Summer 2001 and I am decorating my bedroom. It’s messy, icky stuff. I stuff my paint and plaster smeared trousers into the washing machine after a hard day of brushing and rollering. As I wash the brushes in the sink I hear a “clink, clink, tap, clink” and look down at the bowl of the washing machine to see that my mobile phone and my cordless landline are both frantically tapping on the glass as if trying to get out– having been tucked into the pocket of my trousers all day. I stop the machine and extract them both. A week later I return the (brand new) cordless phone to the BT shop where I had purchased it.
“It appears to have stopped working” I purr at the girl behind the counter.
“Oh don’t worry, Sir” she flutters her eyelashes at me, “This must be a faulty model; We’ve had a lot of these returned”.
Bingo. New phone.
You’d think I would learn, wouldn’t you? Summer 2002 and I run to the swimming pool with just my shorts and a T Shirt on. Hot and sweaty I quickly rinse myself off in the shower before diving into the cold, clear pool. As I surface and climb out of the pool to dive in again, I realize I have left my mobile phone in the pocket of my swimming shorts.
Another one bites the dust.
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