Frozen Spike

Dressed like Nanouk of the North I ventured out into what seemed like a proper snowstorm this morning with the tree branches delicately laced in white and the railings highlighted in white. Even the green swaithes of grass were disappearing underneath a white carpet, but it didn't last, and by the time I returned to the flat, it was melting again.

I have an all singing, all dancing smart phone which can do the most amazing things except follow me around of its own free will, whither I go.
That, I think may be the biggest difference between my generation, teetering on the abyss of eternal sleep and my children and grand children's generations where their smart phones seem to be permanently attached to their ears, or at least within inches from them at all times.

They only miss calls and texts when it suits them, whereas I miss them because I've forgotten to take my phone with me, it lies forgotten on the charger or the worst sin of all, I haven't heard it ringing even though it's somewhere in my bag.

This means when at last I remember that I have a phone, there are missed calls and texts which should nave been dealt with hours ago.
And so it was that this morning I missed a possible visit from Glasgow daughter because I hadn't got her phone call, text or email in time. Oh dear, I know she thinks I'm loosing the plot.