Before I regail (just joking, H) with the story of the unfortunate event today, I would like to thank Harry and Catdownunder for pointing out the errors of my previous blog. Due, no doubt, to the stresses and strains of living with chargers. I wonder whether there is a name for mixing up an acronym, something similar to a malapropism? If so, I am sure Harry will let us know. If not, maybe it is time to plant a word in the ether and see how long it takes to catch on.
Today's unfortunate incident came about because of the need of my youngest daughter's to sign up for a new phone contract. The only good thing about today was that she agreed to cycle into Glasgow with me. Now, call me old-fashioned, but if you sign up for a £15 a month SIM card, wouldn't you assume that after the allocated allowance was used up (300 mins calls, unlimited texts), the wretched thing would cut off? That is what I had naively assumed when I signed up for one. It also meant there would be no danger of someone else running up a huge bill if she lost it. Ha! How wrong could I be when a couple of months ago I received a bill for £45 (instead of £15). Obviously this is how mobile companies make their money. When I complained, they just pointed out (as though I were some deranged old bat) that my daughter could always check how much time she had left. My question is, why can't they provide a cut-off service once the limit is reached? How difficult could that be?
Anyway, Luisa decided to opt for the same network as her best friend so they could talk trivialities ad infinitum. The problem being her phone was Orange and therefore needed to be unlocked. The unlocking shop was closed (it being Sunday) and Luisa gave me earache about how she couldn't wait another day without a mobile. I remembered the adage that successful people are the ones who are prepared to wait for something and felt I should instill this attitude in her. The feeling that my head was about to explode with the whole wretched business coincided with my my need to mount the pavement. And rather than do it straight on, I attempted it from the side. All cyclists know this is a mistake. I could feel myself falling and just went with the flow as my head and body bounced off the pavement. A kindly couple scraped me off the floor, picked up my scattered specs and asked if I was ok. Which I was sort of. Luisa keenly felt the shame of seeing me fall and asked if I wasn't embarrassed by it.
Well, reader, the outcome was positive. Luisa kept shtum about her lack of mobile.
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