Do you know anyone living without a mobile phone? There are definitely not many of ‘us’ around. Yes, you read that correctly. I referred to myself as, ‘us’, because last night at approximately 2am, I joined that tiny minority group, when I shut a taxi door which then drove away with my phone still on board. Within seconds I realised why I felt like I’d lost a limb. I watched helplessly, rooted to the spot, sick, thinking ‘Come back you frigger, my phone is still in the car’.
Sobering up quickly, I ran to the front door. My plan was to quickly ring my phone and Mr Taxi would answer and reunite us. It would be a lovely Christmas story. Racing up the drive I burst in my front door, which is always left open if I am out. As I did so I nearly broke my nose as my face slammed into it at great speed. It was not a pleasant way to discover it hadn’t actually been left unlocked after all. A bit stunned, possibly even concussed, but I don’t like to exaggerate, I stood outside my house wondering how on earth I could get in.
We have a small window on the front door, just a little above the height of my face. I began to knock, relatively gently, while standing on tippy toe so I could see whoever emerged from their bedrooms or down the stairs. Nothing. No sign of anyone. However I had managed to wake the dog who began to go mad. I went to my son’s window and tapped on it gently numerous times. I felt guilty waking him up, and quickly made my way back to the door to await his arrival….. Nothing. In the back of my mind was my disappearing phone, now well on it’s way to Cork city centre. With that thought in mind I began to knock more aggressively on the front door and waited once more for any sign of life…. Nothing. ‘What sort of a feckin useless family have I reared?‘, I thought to myself. I stomped back over to my sons bedroom window and upped the banging to a hammering, along with my out loud exclamation, ‘How the feck can you not hear me?’. I returned to the door one more time, feeling desperate. Still nothing. What would I do? No one was waking up, except the dog who was by now frantic. I put my finger on the bell and went for it. It buzzed long and loud. Then at last, at the top of the stairs I saw life. Yahoo, success.
I know you are now thinking that the man of the house must surely be the one waking up, worried by the lunatic dog barking, and fearing for the safety of his children. Wrong. At the top of the stairs my sleepy daughter peered down. Rising myself to my tallest height of at least five foot three and a half, I eyeballed her with a desperate ‘let me in’ look. She quickly obliged, and to my shame did not get the thank you she deserved. Instead she got ‘How in God’s name did you not wake up earlier?, Is everyone in this house deaf?’ as I burst in the door. Ignoring me she toddled back to bed, while I went in to introduce myself to the frantic, almost hoarse dog.
I had now lost all hope of being reunited with my phone that night, but I rang it anyway. I rang it, and rang it, and rang it, and nobody answered, except myself that is, on voicemail. Demented and beyond all help, I made my way to bed, my two hands hanging. No phone to plug in or put on silent. An empty space on my locker.
You will, I’m sure, be pleased to know I have managed to get through the day. I am living in a fantasy world where I keep thinking my phone is in another room. The different possible taxi companies have been contacted, and I have been assured that if they did find my phone it would be handed in to the local garda station or the main station in town. The garda station has told me they have not received a phone, as of yet ( there’s still hope), and one of the taxi companies have asked me to ring back at 8 tonight. Well as that is only twenty minutes away I am firmly of the belief I will very shortly be reunited. I can’t help but build up my hopes.
So fingers crossed. Only nineteen minutes to go!