Please hold the line ...
Created | Updated Sep 21, 2004
Contacting me by phone is nearly always horribly complicated.
My cellphone appears to work everywhere in the world except at my desk and at the stables; this works in my favour as they're the two places I'm happy to be out of reach of microwaves.
My office landline on the other hand, thinks it's pretty clever, and will run about like an eager puppy trying to find my cellphone - except when I'm abroad in which case it gets very confused and leaves me messages which my cellphone doesn't tell me about until I'm back in the country again.
Kent, of course, is the Garden of England, and clearly not abroad (unless you're Scandinavian, which might explain my cellphone's confusion).
If it's a really clear day and I'm near the bottom bit of Kent with all the chalk and bluebirds and so forth, my cellphone will often decide to y va l'Hypermarché, runnning up its own private little booze-cruise expense account from the comfort of my pocket.
I daren't imagine what it would do if I let it near the Channel Islands.
My cellphone appears to work everywhere in the world except at my desk and at the stables; this works in my favour as they're the two places I'm happy to be out of reach of microwaves.
My office landline on the other hand, thinks it's pretty clever, and will run about like an eager puppy trying to find my cellphone - except when I'm abroad in which case it gets very confused and leaves me messages which my cellphone doesn't tell me about until I'm back in the country again.
Kent, of course, is the Garden of England, and clearly not abroad (unless you're Scandinavian, which might explain my cellphone's confusion).
If it's a really clear day and I'm near the bottom bit of Kent with all the chalk and bluebirds and so forth, my cellphone will often decide to y va l'Hypermarché, runnning up its own private little booze-cruise expense account from the comfort of my pocket.
I daren't imagine what it would do if I let it near the Channel Islands.
