My mobile phone was in my trouser pocket when I went for my swim in the canal. Not surprisingly it didn't appreciate it. It flickered briefly to live and then died with a cloud of damp on the inside of the screen.
But after a night gently warming over the stove it burst brightly into life next morning, gave me a couple of texts and looked ready to face the world. And then it died again - this time for good.
What a shame, I'd just got to like my little Sony W810.
So now I've got to get a new phone. Boy, how I hate searching for phones. To upgrade on line O2 texted me an upgrade code --- to the phone that no longer works. So I went to the O2 shop at 9 a.m. Only to find it doesn't open until 10; like all the phone shops around it. Why, when every shop in the High Street opens at 9 do phone shops (apart from the C*rph*n* Wh*rehouse) stay shut until 10?
So I went to the Tesco phone shop instead - and found myself stuck behind a couple of Ladies Who Shop For Mobiles as they debated the merits of various phones and deals with the solitary assistant.
I left and headed back to the internet. Where I got even more confused. What's the better deal: 600 call minutes and a phone you pay for or a free phone and 100 call minutes. Strikes me the former is - so I'm now off to Ebay to find a phone!
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment