My mobile mishap
BEFORE I knew it, it was Sunday afternoon.I'd been rehearsing dance routines on the stage of the Regent all day for my terrifyingly-soon-to-be-performed show.
BEFORE I knew it, it was Sunday afternoon.
I'd been rehearsing dance routines on the stage of the Regent all day for my terrifyingly-soon-to-be-performed show. After making strenuous efforts to get it right, we had finally been allowed home to enjoy what was left of the weekend.
Back in my little Ipswich sitting room I picked up a biography of Queen Mary, switched on an early evening nature programme and poured a 6pm martini.
But I couldn't concentrate really. The life of Her Majesty wasn't exactly riveting and the pictures weren't up to much. So turning to my bookshelf and deliberating between Agatha Christie's Death on the Nile - a bedtime stalwart, a biography of Judy Garland and a little book on Art Deco ceramics.
You may also want to watch:
I knew I was a little fed up. As I sat down, unable to make a decision, I turned my head to admire the mirror - well the reflection - on the tastefully decorated wall. It was then that I heard a little voice in my head reminding me that “tomorrow is your day off.”
This thought - along with the knowledge I shan't need too much cosmetic surgery until much later - much improved my mood. The melancholy air lifted as I reached for Judy.
- 1 Documentary on former world’s fattest man Paul Mason set to air
- 2 Drink driver found slumped at wheel after partying until 7am
- 3 How Ipswich are you? Take our quiz to find out
- 4 Man arrested following Ipswich sexual assault
- 5 'Kind and gentle' retired Ipswich Hospital orthopaedic consultant dies
- 6 Ambulance service apologises after woman left lying on Cornhill for 2 hours
- 7 Business units set to be converted into new seafront flats
- 8 Suffolk police share ridiculous reasons for 999 calls
- 9 Brunch trip leaves friend group 'anxious' after spiking fears
- 10 Ed Sheeran self-isolating after testing positive for Covid
“Forget your troubles, come on, get happy,” had never been more apt.
So then, looking forward to a day away from the news room, I headed for the bright lights of the capital to luncheon with a old friend. I texted her with my plan: “Darling, I'm in town tomorrow-boozy lunch?”
No sooner had my little telephone informed me my message has been successfully sent than I had a return memorandum.
“Hello gorgeous. How divine 2 hear from U. Of course I cn drop everything 4 U and njoy a liquid lunch. Cn't wait 2 C U.”
Well after a little time deciphering the msge, I sent a further missive.
“Where shall we meet sweetie? 1pm Kensington High Street?”
A reply was again almost instantaneous - marvellous these things aren't they?
“Gr8. I'll b there.”
So early last Monday I woke earlyish, sashayed down to the station and boarded the quick service to the city.
I lunched on pasta and Merlot with my old friend while she told me about her plans and latest job. I probably mentioned my dramatic weight loss and ballroom dancing lessons.
As we parted, I jumped in a taxi and headed towards Piccadilly to a bookshop where I thought I might pick up some sheet music before heading home.
It wasn't until I had stepped out of the cab and was half way towards my destination when I realised I had left my mobile phone on the seat next to me.
Can you imagine the horror?
Deep inside my stomach lurched a feeling of despair. I fumbled my pockets for the familiar shape of the phone but deep down I knew my search would be in vain. It was hopeless.
As I stood on the pavement staring in disbelief at my reflection in a highly polished granite pillar, I stared at a phoneless me. I was naked - well metaphorically or I might have been arrested - without one of life's most vital crutches.
As the panic eventually died away, I had to accept there was little I could do. I went on with my day, enjoyed an hour or so not buying anything in Bond Street, ambled over for a 6pm snifter in Soho and caught a late train back to Suffolk.
For three days I was uncontactable. For three days I had no unnecessary textual contact, and for three days I was alone in the world. It was bliss.
On the third day, my mobile phone company which was keen to reignite my addiction, sent me a replacement phone. I'm back in the land of texting and phoning and contact. My day off from reality was over.
AS I picked up a charming bunch of daffs from Ipswich market on Saturday, I knew Spring was on its way.
My little garden - if I had one - would be already full of snowdrop and crocus, black bird and squirrel. Instead it's a back yard full of dustbins.
However, I shan't let my lack of green space stop me enjoying the bounty of nature. I have bought a cherry tomato plant which I suspect will do quite well in my light and airy kitchen.
I haven't planted it yet - I think it needs sticks and regular watering, and right now I'm just too busy in the demanding world of performing arts to have any other demands on my time - but I am looking forward to using my home grown produce in a sumptuous Greek salad.