After several years of faithful service, my cellphone’s camera died, so I handed it in to the digi-guru for repair and found myself digitally disconnected for a couple of days.
What a traumatic experience it has been! I had forgotten what a major role that little pocketful of electronics played in my life.
Apart from making me instantly available to friends and family, that little gadget tells me what time it is, how much money I’ve spent today, how many paces I’ve walked since getting out of bed, what the weather is likely to be, what appointments I have booked, which of my friends and family have birthdays coming up and what the weather’s like in Nova Scotia, Somerset (England) and the Eastern Cape – all parts of the world where I have family members shivering or sweltering.
It also tells me, at the tap of a fingertip, how much petrol costs today, how many South Africans got Covid-19 in the past 24 hours, how much money I have in my bank account and (should I wish to know) the rules of Olympic curling or skateboarding.
It also knows the correct way to spell Gqeberha.
Suddenly all that information has vanished. My life has retreated into a drawer in a technician’s workshop. It’s like having half my brain closed down. Oddly enough, I’m getting used to the idea.
Not so long ago, before the digital age, I wouldn’t have cared if I was not there to answer the (landline) phone. Why should I care now?
Maybe my broken cellphone has reminded me that I’m a sentient, independent human and my phone is just a tool, like a screwdriver or a toothbrush.
If I don’t answer my phone, maybe
I was busy weeding my lawn or having a nap. Or maybe I simply didn’t feel in the mood to talk to anyone.
I’ll make the decisions from now on. Not my cellphone.
It’s an amazing feeling of freedom.
Last Laugh
A gorgeous married woman fell for her handsome dentist like a ton of bricks and pretty soon they were having a passionate affair, meeting once a week in the storeroom behind the surgery after his day’s work.
One day the dentist said to his patient, “Darling, we are going to have to stop meeting like this.” “Nonsense,” she said.
“My husband doesn’t suspect a thing.”
“I know,” he said, “but you’re down to your last tooth.”
* "Tavern of the Seas" is a column written in the Cape Argus by David Biggs. Biggs can be contacted at [email protected]
** The views expressed here are not necessarily those of Independent Media.
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