EDitorial ± 3-May-2005

Don't Answer The Phone

In the good old days of Danny Baker doing the breakfast show on the more simply monikered Radio 5, he said many, many things, a lot of which tickled me greatly. One of the more thought-provoking was this: if the phone's ringing, there's no obligation to answer it.
Ring, ring, why don't you give me a call?
Ring, ring, the happiest sound of them all
— Abba, Ring Ring

Chances are that the incoming message falls into one of these loose categories:

  • good news — eg, that big lottery win
  • neutral news — eg, on your way home could you buy some juice, bread and a small bag of pine nuts
  • bad news — see below

Walking backwards to the last week of April, my mobile trilled late on Monday afternoon. This was Good Lady Wife: hi, I'm calling from the hospital — (never a good start) — The Boy tripped over in the playground and hit his head on the edge of a wooden bench. Rather than give him stitches, which would leave a scar, they're filling the hole with glue.

Ugh! Now, you need that kind of call like you need, well, a hole in the head. Still, he's peddling along the road to recovery rather well.

Skipping forward three days to Thursday, and I'd forgotten to recharge my phone overnight. Not working for RyanAir, I was able to do this at work, then switched it back on around lunchtime to find a voicemail from GLW: hi, the cat's been run over and is dead; I found him on the way to work this morning. He's in a box in next door's shed.

Ugh again! Poor little fella didn't even make it to the end of his first year. Kids were devastated. So long Minty.

Be seeing you!