I emailed my articles from a pub in Lewes: the kind of place where old geezers like me go to have a pint, read the papers and try, without any noticeable success, to chat up the barmaid. One guy was talking on the phone… except he wasn’t talking, he was bellowing. And when he’d finished with one conversation, he immediately rang somebody else. I was going to ask him to speak up a bit, because the bloke in the next room might not have caught every bit of his conversation… but he got up and left.
I hate talking on the phone in a public place, where my witless meanderings can be overheard. On the rare occasions that my phone rings, I rush to somewhere quiet where I won’t disturb anyone. And I make sure to get as few calls as possible by neglecting to charge my phone…
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