Ridley: Now, we’ve touched on this before, where there have been internet losses and broken laptops, all dark times to be sure (first world issues, eh?). However, I really don’t think I understand how…attached…to my gadgets I’ve gotten. I forgot my phone the other day. The most important of my tools.

It was a day like no other where I wandered off to work, as you do. I’d gotten up early, which is always a massive feat for me, usually I’m darting around doing two things at the same time, ironing my clothes and straightening my hair or smudging eye shadow onto my eyelids as a thick layer of it dusts over my Weetabix (hmmm, chemical flavour). This particular morning, I was happily full of lovely scramble eggs I’d whipped up, I also had a homemade lunch I’d prepared the night before and I thought I was oh so clever with all my organisation. Then as I’m driving away, humming along with the radio, my eyes widened and I let out a loud shout as I pictured my little phone sitting on the bed, abandoned.

The whole day was torture. It was like when I was younger (before phones existed. Yes, there was such a time) and I’d forgotten my watch, I’d continuously glance at my wrist and sigh in frustration (even then there were gadget addiction tendencies…). Now, I don’t even own one any more, not when I have a mobile. I’m amazed how much I depend so utterly on it.

I felt quite anxious actually, like part of my protection or suit of armour had been stolen, if I needed help or if someone was in trouble, what would I do, I had no phone to ring anyone and what if someone was trying to contact me right now ringing over and over, and it was urgent. How would they know where to go to get in touch with me, if not through my mobile, or email (but then I use my phone to check that too). I wasn’t even able to finish most of my sentences that day either:

“The password’s in my phone, I’ll just…er…”

“Oh yeah, I’ll just look that up on my…*sigh*…”

“Hilarious, I should tweet that, let me just grab…nope…”

“I’m just going to check my internet banking…god darn it…”

“His number, yeah no problem, I have it in my…eh…”

When I got home that evening, I made a beeline to my bedroom. I was certain there’d be at the very least three missed calls and about half a dozen text messages. How could there not be, I’d been out of contact for almost ten hours. I was pretty certain I probably had pending search parties that needed to be called off too. I pushed the button and the screen lit up. A chorus of loud annoying imaginary crickets sounded in my ears. There were no new messages, no missed calls, no updates, no tweets, no emails.

I’m over it…mostly…*sniff*

I do remember when we didn’t have mobiles actually. When people queued to use public pay phones and phone cards were for sale in all good newsagents. I even collected the cards for awhile (found them in an old bottle green photo album the other day).

My parents were the first people I know of who got a mobile. It had a massive antenna, a small garish green digital screen and it was the size of a piece of turf or a brick (for people that haven’t seen turf in a while!). To protect it, they put a large leather cover over it, with a thick clear plastic front that made it hard to press the large buttons.

What a novelty at the time, but looking back I realise how unbelievably lucky we are now and I shudder to think what I’d be like if I were thrown back in time to the start of the technological advances, where all the things I take for granted would have yet to be properly invented or improved. All of them snatched away from me. No mobile, no Kindle (and instant book buying), no television, no computer…no internet *sob*. And I wouldn’t have a clue how to make any of them, how to describe how the internet actually works, or how engineers went from a large brick to slim pocket sized mobiles. My knowledge of the future would be useless!

So I do wonder, what would happen to poor Ridley, the techno addict, if she can’t even stand less than a day without her phone? (and is now talking in 3rd person!! :D)