A little while ago I was temporarily separated from my mobile phone. The feeling I felt is something I can only compare to a mother losing her child in the menswear department of Marks & Spencers. It was as if I had lost a part of myself, like my kidneys had fallen out of my backside. In the few hours me and my beloved phone were apart I left a number of frantic status updates on trusty Facebook in an attempt to track it down. Refreshing the page every few seconds only to be disappointed when the only news the site was ‘feeding’ me was that whatsername who I haven’t spoken to since primary school has ‘LOLd at a picture of …(insert something dull here)’ or that one of my friends would prefer a pork based snack to Cheryl Cole.
When I was eventually reunited with my phone, I must admit that the wonderful feeling of relief and elation was slightly deflated by the discovery that I had no missed calls or texts, but I reassured myself that my phone had probably deleted them for me as I was not around to receive them. It’s amazing what technology can do these days.
But this traumatic event perfectly illustrates why I am reluctant to move over to the pristine white side and purchase an iPhone. Although the thought of being able to give the world minute by minute updates on my trip to the local shop via a series of ‘tweets’ is appealing, the fact that I would be able to lose my phone and iPod in one easy step is not worth thinking about. It is highly likely I would have a mental breakdown and end up shaving off my hair or drunkenly pestering holiday makers in St Lucia.
I love this Jo!
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