Etiquette of the Telephone

Phones. Wonderful things, and they've been knocking around a fair old while too. Invented by Alexander Graham Bell all the way back in the distant times of 1876, in the space of just over 100 years they've become an integral part of our society. You'll find a telephone in practically every structure with four walls in the country and one of the mobile variety on every person over the age of 12. So you'd think in all that time and regular use we'd have become pretty well acquainted with the art of the telephone. Apparently not. With the new addition of LCD displays or screens to most phones, can it really be that hard to correctly enter 11 digits? You can now even check your finger tapping is correct before you press that all important dial button, yet still find myself picking up on numerous occasions only to be confronted by an adamant caller insistent that I "am" Jill/Tom/Sandra or Billy. Oh really? Well I wasn't the last time I checked but I guess you strangers who have never set eyes on me know best. And yes, I'm sure they don't live here, unless they're living a nocturnal life under my kitchen sink, but sure if you want me to take a message "just in case" I'll be more than happy to oblige.

So once we've finally got over the hurdle of actually calling someone we'll now have to master the technique of conversation. Now for dumb machines telephones are actually pretty smart. There's no need to holler down the phone at 2000 decibels (consequently deafening the person on the other end of the line as well as those around you) in the hope of actually making your voice cover the literal distance between you and the other end. Believe it or not that is actually the job of the phone. Nor is there any reason to whisper down the phone as if you're scared of it. And you wonder why I ask you to repeat things?

But let us not forget the role of the person being called upon. So it's a common occurrence for more than one person to reside in one house so it's therefore a pretty good bet you'll be dealing with calls or other inhabitants somewhere along the line. Now it's pretty peeving to say the lease to return home only to be told " Oh yea... Someone called...Wanted you to call back..." Oh that'll be a doddle then considering I don't have the foggiest who they are. Would it really kill you to simply get a name, number and reason? Even if you don't think you can stretch to the last two just for goodness sake tell me who called.

So If you've successfully managed to perfect all that now all we have left is how to hang up at the appropriate time...



Bambi Poppins Signing Off...
bambi.poppins.yahoo.com

Piece Of Cake...

Just imagine the scenario: a warm hot sunny day and a next-door neighbour fleetingly gives reference to their upcoming holiday to some exotic far flung destination and how the plants are going to need watering. I don't mind. Wave the hosepipe around in the general direction of the shrubbery and the ecosystem will sort things out for it's self. Pretty simple one would think. I actually felt quite bad in accepting the 10 pound note forced upon me despite my continual protesting that payment was completely unnecessary, let alone ridiculous to pay me for dowsing a few stationary lifeforms with H2O.

But not even one week in to my garden tending venture and I'm pondering between two possible options to explain the recent turn of events (against my favor in case you hadn't realised where this one was headed) :

a) I must have been transformed into a complete and utter disaster area as of last Monday and become infected with the worst luck ever to have been bestowed onto one person in such a limited time scale

or b) there's more to this gardening lark than meets the eye.

Now for those of you who know me fairly well it wouldn't be overly big headed of me to say that it's most likely not to be option a, as I have, thankfully, been blessed with a fair share of common sense and academic talent. But as the tomato plants continue to wither regardless of the torrents of water lavished upon them daily I begin to doubt my talents slightly. As the handle breaks of the watering can, which I wasn't aware was physically detachable in the first place without extreme force, I start to wonder if maybe I'm turning into a bit of a klutz. When the hosepipe springs about 8 leaks simultaneously, thus drenching my new shoes on their first excursion from outside my four walls (admittedly only four good old British pounds from primark but still not a nice feeling to be tipping them upside down and watching the new Niagara Falls emerge which mostly ends up over most of me to precise) the thought does cross my mind that something's out to get me. When trying to mend said hosepipe with waterproof taping and the reel of tape snaps in my hands.. what did I do to deserve this? When I go in the house to pick up the post from inside the front door I find the house has been invaded by an army of ants. Quite literally taking the place over - practically non negotiable in fact. 24 hours and some ant powder later I'm now staring at an ant graveyard. Admittedly better than an ant hostel but still not a sight you wish to return home too.

So as I cautiously make my way over to the house today I wonder what delights it has in store for me today. And without exaggeration or any form of imagination i find the garden gate has blown off it's hinges. Maybe I should post that 10 pound note back through the door....