I regret to inform you that the display on my mobile has passed away. It happened quite suddenly on Saturday evening. The last I checked, the cheery face of the brat wearing my spectacles and sticking his tongue out at me was in place. Then nada. Zilch. An ominous dead silence which was scarier than waking up and seeing oneself asleep in one’s bed from the vantage point of the ceiling. I shook it desperately. Turned the battery on million times. Switched it on and off with the desperation only one who has all her contacts saved on a hard drive will understand. Nada. It has been sent to the Nokia service centre where it is currently in the oxygen tent, with two sexy nurses on standby. Four days they tell me. And no guarantee of it lasting. No telling when it will croak again. Ah, my beautiful N72. What I wouldnt give to feel you in my hand again!
PS: There is strange liberating feeling of not being with a mobile constantly attached to one’s person which I strongly recommend. You get to know exactly how many people really desperately want to stay in touch with you and hear your voice, and will take the trouble to call on the land line, leave messages, and even email their concern at your unavailability. Exactly two in my case. Never said I was Ms Popular.