‘Hello,’ says a strange voice on the phone. ‘This may sound odd, but I have found a mobile phone…’ And indeed, not only had she found it but she had dried it out, charged it up, coddled it back to health, and then took the trouble to find out whose it was. It seems that on Friday’s bike ride I had done more than forget my bag, I had also managed to bounce my phone out of my pocket outside her cottage.
Once I’ve been here a bit longer, and they realise I live in a constant trail of dropped gloves, scarves, umbrellas, phones, wallets, bags, notebooks etc., they may just take to leaving all lost property outside our house. It will save a lot of time, in the long run…
My goodness. Now you know you’re not in London any longer. Almost restores your faith in human nature, doesn’t it?
One of the many joys of village life – the only downside is everyone knows everyone’s business, that and the effects of interbreeding.
Sharon – when you’re as liable to lose things as I am, your faith in human nature is constantly topped up, even in London
J – yeah, and now they know my entire phone book as well…
[...] dropped but it was otherwise still working. A friend then gave me an old one of hers, which I dropped in a puddle and had returned, although it was never quite the same since. Another phone got dropped in a car park, picked up by [...]