Last night I was sat next to a woman on the train on the way home, she was addicted to her phone. I lost count of the calls she made, but she organised her birthday drinks next Thursday ‘Promise me you’ll come!’ A barbecue today, ‘No you won’t need to bring anything, I’ll just have a couple of jugs of pimms and some beer, I don’t want it to get messy like it did last time.’ Heard all about her two weeks in France with Will, how she had 197 emails when she got into work yesterday, she was absolutely knackered, but couldn’t sit still, checked her phone 18 times between Liss and Fratton (no joke I counted that lot.)
All in the quiet carriage.
I couldn’t complain, I was listening to my Ipod. People all around were clucking and chuntering. But being English, didn’t say anything.
My phone is on holiday at Nokia central as it isn’t working very well. I have been given a interim one which I would gladly love to throw at the wall. I can’t text on it, I can’t call anyone – as although we have been told that my contacts are in it, I can’t find them. And yes I have looked!
As I type this there are all sorts of banging and crashing noises from outside, I have no idea what is going on, but there are police everywhere. I would go down to report back, but at 19:00, I have bed-head, yesterday’s make up smudged under my eyes and am in a right state. I have been working on my course all day, I look a state, the flat looks a state and I haven’t done half as much as I wanted to. This module is badly written, so I am having to repeat myself all the time, I have to add ‘ALL’ my notes.
It’s driving me mad…