Good evening
Bloggets. A lovely day today, despite the weather. Our Son is happy, that makes
us happy. Today he chilled walked along the beach and went on his cruise with
his nine pals. I can’t believe how clean the house is without a teen in the house.
I wipe the kitchen work tops once a day, when Teen is home, about a dozen
times. The dish washer is on once, oppose to up to three times. But we still
miss him like mad. And one week today he returns.
Hub took the little Fella to a new vet today just the two of
them. LF did so well in helping Hub to find where it was. He had his nails cut,
his injections and tablet, he got weighed too. He is just over 29k.
I’m thinking about getting a new phone. My phone is five
years old now and yes it looks like it comes out of a museum and sometimes it
dials the correct number, other times it decides to go silent and freezes. Well
it is one of the last normal mobile phones that has talks on it, to make it
talk, other than this phone, which they don’t make this kind any more, I have
to use an IPhone. I’m dreading that day as you know, Fifi and tech are not the
best of friends. But one day, this phone will just die and though of course I
could survive without a phone for some days, the thought of that makes me feel
rather ill.
One thing about getting a new phone, it comes with a new
number, this gives chances to get rid of those who I no longer want to
associate with. Hub was thinking about doing the same some weeks ago, looking
at the prices now he is thinking about changing his number. As for Teen, his
phone was second hand, so it’s old too, but he has the trouble, he charges his
phone all night and it lasts 22/24 minutes, but he is keeping his. It’s just a
pain.
We don’t have a landline as the only people who used to call
that were sales people. Hubs Dad knows our number as does his brothers my
brother and family have our mobile too.
I wonder if there are
any people in the UK without a mobile? Going to the earlier blog I posted about
technology, I remember the horrid cold dark corridors of our boarding school
where we were allowed to phone home once a week and we had to put coins in the phone
box. 2p’s and tens. Gosh, remember those days? Each street had a pay phone
where in the UK we went into the famous red box resembling a Tardis closing the
door behind us and hoped that there wasn’t a queue going to form outside whilst
we were on the phone. What would our kids think now days about having to do
that? You know, if we wanted to go out with our friends, we would walk and
knock on their door, now, it’s a text to communicate, that is where we are
going wrong I think. As when we went for our friends as children, we would
knock on our pal’s door and the Mum would answer, she would ask us in and
Grandma would be there as would other relatives. Now, our children miss out on
that family environment.
Oh those pay phones, when our money was about to run out, we
would hear a beep beep sound and we knew we had to either put more money in or
quickly say goodbye. I hated that at school, as even if we wanted to put in
more money, at my second school we were not allowed and the evil matron would
stand around the corner and listen to what we were talking about. Just to annoy
her, I would talk Russian to my Mum. Poor Mum didn’t have a clue what I was
saying, but neither did the dark eyed dark haired dark soul standing waiting
for me to fall. So she could stamp all over me.
Oh the thought of her still sends shivers down my spine but
now she will be a weak old woman and I’m a stronger person no thanks to her.
Everything at that school was monitored. We had letter
writing each week and one day in my one paged letter as that is all we were
allowed to write, I told my Mum that I was not allowed to wear the T/shirt that
I had just acquired from an aunt. Thinking nothing of the words I had written,
I put the letter on the desk of our teacher as every letter had to be read.
Lunch time I was called to her office, her as in the matron and told I had to
rip the letter up and re write it. Leaving out the information that I was not
allowed to wear my new gift.
We thought we were allowed out once on a Saturday, once a
week. Until we learned my friend Mandy and myself that we were being followed.
I have to add, I was fourteen. The bus stopped outside of our jail… and dropped
us off right outside of the shopping centre in Preston where I went to school.
An yet still Matron had us followed.
That school combined with going to Russia pre Perestroika,
left me with the desire to run free. But for me freedom came at a price.
Now I can call whoever I want and receive calls and texts
from whoever I wish to hear from. It’s great, but my old phone sadly is on it’s
last legs and soon I am going to have to move with the times. Goodness knows
who I will call?
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