As some of you may know from my lack of comms, a couple of weeks ago I crushed my phone at work. It still sort of worked, but the screen was a psychaedelic vision of swirls and lines of every colour known and as yet undiscovered.
Sometimes I could get a hint of a text or a missed call through the fog, but I had to give up and I changed my answering machine message to direct callers to the office and slung the phone in a drawer at home.
I didn’t do anything about it for a few days, and found myself totally free of being “able to be got” for the first time since ’95 I think. Oh my god. The joy, the bliss, yes it was mighty. The inconvenience be damned.
Folk quickly adapted and just sent emails. I didn’t miss any important items, it just took a few hours longer to deal with it.
I don’t have a hands-free for using in the motor, I just let the phone ring out. I’m kinda holding onto the notion that the pace of life has been synthetically enhanced, stronger, faster, but without the red track suit. Well, I’m not holding on any more, I’m standing on top of it, hands on hips, hair blowing in the wind.
Who made the pace of our lives this frantic blur of unnecessary necessity? We’re all running. even if we’re sitting down, we need it now, tomorrow is too late. By the weekend? That means we’re writing threatening emails.
It’s rubbish. Rubbish. And I hadn’t really noticed it.
But, I got a new phone yesterday and I’ll no doubt slip back into the groove. The torture of trying to get all the numbers and photies out of a phone with a blank screen by simultaneously pressing menu buttons on my phone and Joyces’ similar model (successful, surprisingly) will help the feeling to linger on for a while I hope.