It is a truth universally acknowledged, that when one drops one’s mobile phone in a thermally heated pool at Taupo, it is no more. It has ceased to be. It has expired and gone to meet its maker. It is a stiff, bereft of life, it rests in peace in a bowl of rice. It is an ex-mobile phone.
It seems that my sim card has survived the dousing, and it may yet be the case that I will be able to retrieve my list of contacts from my phone, should the bowl of rice perform satisfactorily. And I have an old phone on hand which will do duty until my doused phone revives, or I buy a new one. In the meantime, it seems that I have lost everyone’s numbers. Should you have been one of those people with whom I txt, you might perhaps send me a message, including your name, please, so that I can reconnect with the world.
With apologies to Jane. And the Pythons.