(This post is not wholly suitable for iphone5 users)
It is day 9 of operation no iphone5.
Had you asked me 10 days ago to predict my mental state if I lost my 4 week old iphone5, I’d have opened my mouth and eyes realllllly wide, shaken my head from side to side, looked up at the sky incredulously and brought the slinky machine close to my breast. Famine, murder, Helen Flanagan’s tits aside – losing a phone is an important issue.
The worst part was letting people know.
‘You DICK!’ said one Editor I work for.
‘Owch’, said another.
‘Wanna hangout on google chat?’ said mum optimistically, and suddenly google chat became my only way of communicating with the outside world in non-crackly real time. Depressingly, resignedly, I ‘activated video chat’.
Yet, here I am over a week later still without a single way to call someone… and I’m as happy as a little sandboy playing in the sand with a pink spade made of sugar!
What’s that about? I’m a journalist. My job is barely possible without a phone and yet, wow, I’m doing it. I’m working – functioning – smiling – GIGGLING! – wiping my bum without an iphone in sight! Gmail chatting to people instead of calling, regaining the feeling back in my thumbs with every phoneless second that passes. Leaving the house old skool style, with just my keys and my wallet – the original duo, before that bloody third wheel came along.
I remember it not so well, that fateful night on November 2nd in Paris, when anxiety filled my life after disembarking the French Metro without Mimi, (yeah she had a name). I was drunk. That’s right, I was drunk because I was having a good time and left her on the floor, or the seat, or in the hands of a lucky Parisienne… or some shit.
Maybe it’s because I know that a phone is slowly making its way back into my life. Maybe it’s because I haven’t experienced that debilitating neck pain for a while. You know, from stooping over your phone for 20 minutes at a time, in the street, on the train, in the bath…
Maybe it’s because I’ve spoken loads to my boyfriend since Mimi went awol – had great chats, reconnected, hi-fived, without interrupting our time together to check whether one of my mates has seen a shit photograph I’ve taken of my feet and posted on instagram. I don’t miss having a phone. I don’t miss having an iphone5. Can you believe? I’m not missing something I used excessively. Obsessively. Anti-socially. Maniacally. I am… whole again.
So if you’re an iphone5 user and you’ve dared to read this post, I’m calling to you from over the fence. The grass is still green. The water’s still warm. But, naturally, try not to join me because being phoneless is pure bollocks.