ANOTHER Saturday from hell in the WoS offices, and my mood wasn't made any better by the fact I must have left my mobile phone in my flat this morning. It seems strange that 10 years ago I didn't even possess one of these essential devices. If someone needed to get hold of me they would ring me at the office, or on my BT landline, or just send a carrier pigeon. In those days you actually possessed a phone book, with phone numbers in, so that you could look up someone's number when you wanted to speak to them.
Not any more. Nowadays my phone is my life. It is the only place where I keep my numbers, it is the main place where people contact me, whether it be by text message or a straight call, and without it I feel like I have travelled half way down the Amazon in a canoe wearing only a loincloth and armed with just a paddle.
It put me in a grumpy mood all day because I couldn't text Wren for any aimless chitter, chatter, or maybe just a moan about... well, leaving my mobile phone at home, for starters! It's pretty bad that I cannot even recall my girlfriend's number because all I do these days is look up her name on my phone then press a button. It rings her automatically.
I went through a silly spell a while back when I kept leaving my phone in pubs. There would then be the cry of anguish and the trip out to a nearby kiosk to ring the damn thing. If my luck was in someone would answer and I would then arrange to pick it up or, in some cases, arrange for the taxi driver who suddenly found this awful din going on in the back of his car (possibly a Goodnight Irene ringtone or even my most recent, Kenny Rogers' "What condition my condition was in" or some such) to bring it back to me at a reasonable price.
And every time it happened I promised myself that in future I would write all my numbers down, particularly after losing the odd mobile and having to piece together my life from my most recent itemised phone bill.
Anyway, it never did happen and today I have spent minutes just wondering who has rung my phone during the day. Ironic, really, because when I get home I will almost certainly find I have no missed calls. It's like facebook really. You think you have friends, but in reality you're Norman No Mates.
The rest of the day was pretty dire. England lost the rugby World Cup, work was a pain and the only saving grace was the two surprisingly tasty Ham and Cucumber Sandwiches that Brammy very generously left me as he sloped off into the night at half past 11.
Still, not long to go now and I'll be re-united with my phone. It must be love.