I tried to put new batteries in my flat phones. By that I mean apartment phones not horizontal ones…..
Got back from the Dorchester and the batteries had leaked acid everywhere. So now I have no phones at all.
Got the step ladder out of the utility room, scuffed my knuckles and tore the skin off my left thumb.
Climbed aloft and riffled through bags and boxes and finally found a bag containing two new phones, where they come from is a mystery.
Please understand; Me and instructions are not happy bed fellows. Normally the ‘oosbind would read the small print and I would take advantage. Tonight though I was on my own….
The man is in the cottage, I am in the flat, so all telephone engineering had be undertaken by yours truly. I threw everything over the draining board, cleared the bread board and tried to understand what I had to do.
I know that reading the instructions slowly helps but fear gets in the way of it making any sense whatsoever. Having to read diagrams is like map reading for me. I have to orient myself to the east take three deep breaths and then turn found four times before bowing to Buddha and praying that a taxi will come along. it didn’t SO
Unplug one thing, plug up another, scratching my head on the desk trying to pull the plug through too slim a gap. I had to remover two canteens of cutlery, spilling gold plated cake forks all over the floor, stack boxes of paper and remove cobwebs from my cardigan.
Finally I managed to stop panicking, I screamed at the kitchen bin – well why not -when I couldn’t get the lid to open. The new phone had more cardboard packaging than Waitrose..
I put two new AAA batteries in each phone, plugged up the base and PING went the strings of my heart not to mention the read-out on the main phone.
I now have to wait 16 hours before the bloody things are charged by which time I have to remember to plug the phone back into the socket. So far so good only my mobile has given up the ghost. I’ve dropped it that many times I can only get it to work if I use the tip of my left index finger, yes the tip of my left index finger. For some reason none of my other digits will do. I cant upgrade until November. I refuse to get one of those things that you swipe with your finger, you’ve seen them; they play music, Google the earth, clean the lavatory and perform keyhole surgery all at the same time, all I want is a blinking phone. Well not exactly blinking it means it’s on the way out, no a phone that I can dial easily so that I can talk to my loved ones and work mates.
So here I am , finally, eating almonds at 2.00 a.m. having been to a big charity bash with botoxed women, vain footballers, ‘A’ list actresses and ‘Z’ list presenters. I looked like an old auntie who had been let out for the evening. When I hit the red carpet – literally hit it running. But I was collared by some razzi’s in the foyer. If anybody sees those pictures I will never work in telly again.
I stuck to water. Ate the starter, of rubbery mushrooms sitting on a funny type of soggy wafer. I couldn’t help but eat the meat even though I’m a died in the lambswool vegetarian, but by the time we were seated I was so hungry. I tucked into the pudding; a frozen ball of ice cream and somethlng that was trying to be a spotted member. No coffee, too many chocolates and an hysterical panic about sugar rush..
I cried at the London Gospel Choir, gasped as the Cheeky Girls, winced at the fashion show and left as the 49th incarnation of the Temptations were about to take to the wooden ramp..
It ran one and a half hours later than it should. The cause, however, was very good, which is why I went. Raising money for orphans in Zimbabwe. This country that used to be called the bread basket of Africa is now a wasteland since Mugabe has had his thieving hands in the kitty. Most of the nation is starving. I walked around barefoot since my high heels hurt, I was complimented on removing my shoes. Some compliment! I have never seen so many empty heads in one room you could hear the tumbleweed whistling from one 36ddd underwired implant to another across the candle lit tables.
I walked to my car, carrying the goody bad which contained body cream, a tee shirt that can only fit a 9 year old, a badge, lip gloss, eye shadow and some wet wipes. Wet Wipes? Having secured some kind of deal for a friend with a wonderful man called Raj, I drove home in fifteen minutes then set about clearing up the bleeding batteries.
I am now tired, over fed, underwhelmed and ready to sleep. I had a wonderful talk with Sybil the soothsayer, Jim the ‘oosbind and my darling girl friend Linda without whom life would be less rich.
my eyes have finally closnrkayugfdv'[pl”>