During the great, rainswept walk of a couple of weeks ago, my iPhone got soaked. After some days of sitting in a bag of rice, there was still not a spark of life, so I packaged it up carefully and sent it off to iPhone surgery. Where, as far as I know, it remains.
11 days without a phone, and counting. I must say, it’s been, well, absolutely fine. There was one day when I really needed to make calls, but other than that, my phone use is mostly habit. I’ve been slightly irked that I can’t listen to audiobooks in the car but if I was that desperate I could probably reclaim my old iPod (remember them?).
Also, I quite like that I have to make proper plans. Remember the days when you made an arrangement with someone to meet at a set time and place, and both of you turned up? None of that ‘I’ll call when I’m on my way’, ‘Oh, sorry, I’m running 15 minutes late and can we meet somewhere else entirely?’ nonsense.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder, so I’m sure it will be a happy reunion when I do get my phone back. Unless the other axiom applies: absence makes the fond heart wander…