Mobile phones: do we really need them?
Yes, apparently we do and to almost epidemic proportions, or so it seemed recently during an outing to The Apex in Bury for their comedy club night.
Our balcony seats gave a good view of the people beneath; one moment there was laughter and tears on cheeks the next, a sea of LED screens that lit the auditorium with a bizarre and unsettling light.
It was like Stepford Wives with phones.
I am not the greatest fan of the text message. It is a ludicrous idea that a worthwhile conversation can be conducted using this medium.
The art of conversation requires a number of ingredients including each party giving due time to listening. How does that work with texts? By the time I’ve deciphered all the abbreviations, I’ve nearly lost the will to live.
I use my mobile phone as little as possible. The flavour of texts I may send are along the lines of: ”I’m still in bed, please send tea and toast reinforcements”, or really important communications such as: “Flat tyre. HELP ME!”
One useful function, however, is the secret code. If you have an elderly parent with telephone answering deficits, you might do well to adopt ‘The Code’. It is genius in its simplicity and as long as both participants are wearing their glasses, is completely fool-proof.
My mother and I devised a plan for the safe release of her dog in the event of her untimely over-night demise. An early morning text.
She sends me her text which simply reads ‘K’. This is code for: ‘okay, I am alive and the dog does not require rescuing for at least 24 hours.’
If you are a visiting relative refusing to detach mobile from hand, I am strongly minded to completely ban from this establishment your iPhone, iPad and any i-device you may care to bring with you. Should anyone need to get hold of you for cogent reasons, we have that old-fashioned thing in the corner called a telephone.
It would not be untrue to say I’d prefer to place the mobile phone into a padded, room 101, but then I’d worry about mother’s dog.