So here goes. For exclusive benefit of any techno-buffs out there, I can reveal to you, these blogs are written entirely using a Vodafone 'Open Hand' thing. It's a kind of 'flash' mobile phone which ended up getting purchased for me by work (but obviously, please don't tell them I only use it for these purposes).
It's got text messaging, 1.3 megapixel camera, a Mobile version of a Windows operating system so that I can create and edit spreadsheet and word documents, an email account with archiving facilities, a reader for PDF files, a media player with both music and film capability, wireless and mobile internet access via the user-standard reader 'Explorer', full miniature keyboard (useful for typing ease), an addictive solitaire game for which to endlessly procrastinate with, calculator, calendar, alarm clock, a file zipper and a phone book storage facility big enough to accommodate a greater level of numbers than actual amount people you would ever actually ever end up meeting in the whole of your life.
But can it obtain sufficient signal to actually make a telephone call? Can it bollocks. My whatchamathing might be fancy, but for something proclaiming to be a 'mobile phone', I can't help feeling there's a rather fundamental flaw.
Since obtaining this... well, whatever you can call it, I have continued carrying my old personal mobile for the purposes of telecommunication. It is to my great chagrin that the microphone on the more humble handset seems now to have also given up the ghost. People can call me, but they can't hear a single word I say. Once again, this is a pretty major flaw for a phone.
This fault couldn't have come at a worse time, because today, not only did I have my MOT results pending after taking my car to be tested, I also have the imminent call relating to the success or failure of my job interview.
Which started me thinking that there's a kind of problem with keeping this blog. Maybe I have started subconsciously willing unfortunate things to happen, just so I can have something interesting to write about. This is undoubtedly an unhealthy and ill-advised mental outlook to commence living your life by. Surely it's only a matter of time before I am concluding every single entry with derivative world-weary phrases, like 'You just couldn't make it up', or 'Isn't that just bloody typical!' (with an exclaimation, rather than question mark, to make it seem even more rhetroical') . Who knows, I might even eventually carve a career as a columnist for The Sun.
In fairness, the day didn't actually turn out too bad. I swapped my SIM card with an old handset of my dad's and the garage successfully contacted me later in the afternoon. Thankfully, my car had passed its MOT, despite all the gloomy prospects I'd envisaged at the time of yesterday's ill-timed windscreen crack.
Though there's still no word on the job front yet. I imagine they'll contact me tomorrow. Provided yet another of my phones doesn't start getting its job description perilously confused. How bloody typical would that be! You just couldn't make it up.
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