Cut adrift
The Tuesday before Easter, I parked my car and went off to play football. In something of a rush, and having performed acrobatic movements in the car to change from my work suit to my football kit it would appear that I left several things strewn across my front seat.

Returning to my car an hour and a half later, I was somewhat aggrieved to find that someone, no doubt keen to point out the appalling lack of tidiness in my car, had thrown a rock through my passenger window, and helped themselves to my mobile phones (work and personal), and showered the inside of my car with little bits of glass.

Needless to say I was incredibly grateful to them for highlighting my carelessness.

Perhaps fortuitously, this was nothing more than a smash and grab raid, as investigation of the various locations in my car would have revealed my wallet, ipod, watch, glasses and house keys - all ripe for the plucking.

Anyway, the upshot is that I now have a shiny new phone, but have lost a load of phone numbers.

I suppose this is nature's way of culling my phone book - as I'm now in a situation where, if people don't call me, I won't have their number. In particular I've lost the numbers for a load of people who were very good friends at University, but who I haven't spoken to in years. Previously, I had the comfort blanket of knowing that I could still call them, and in a minute re-awaken a dormant friendship, but not any longer.

Without that comfort blanket, I feel strangely naked, and cut adrift from parts of my life which are now, in all probability, gone forever.

If you happen to be reading this, and know my number, please send me a text with your name so that I can rebuild my phone book. For some, I suspect the chance to converse has now been lost forever.
- posted by Paul @ 5:32 pm