Today I am mostly in between mobile phones.
I bit the bullet and got myself a new phone, because my little old Nokia was being erratic about battery charge life. Also, because I am used to the 2-hours-on-the-train-each-way madness now, I need something to amuse myself on the journey.
I have tried reading work stuff, but that can be dull, plus I don't get paid for an extra four hours work a day. I have issues about reading work stuff on trains anyway, because I know I always look at what the person next to me is reading, and I don't really want random strangers knowing what I am up to.
I have tried reading fiction, but I dislike my books getting squashed and bashed around in my rucksack.
I listen to music on my iPod, but that isn't sufficient to keep me entertained.
I then ummed and ahhed about getting a little teeny laptop and a dongle to pick up internet access so I could waste yet more of my life on the internet. But I'd still need a phone. And an iPod.
What to do? What to do?
I decided to be a complete techno-geek, and I bought an iPhone. A pay as you go one, I didn't fancy being locked into a contract for two years. I will see how much it costs me per month, and whether it's worth it. The Apps store had better have a backgammon game.
Other news: I got caught up in the Tamil demonstration on Monday evening, which was interesting. I was walking to Waterloo from the office, as it was a nice sunny afternoon, and got to Parliament Square, where there were many, many police riot vans. Also horseshit, which indicated to my fine mind that police horses had recently been in the area.
I kept walking briskly, because I didn't want to miss my train. I knew that if I got stuck on the pedestrian crossings it could take me ten minutes to get round the square and onto Westminster Bridge.
I rounded the corner next to Big Ben, and there were hordes of angry flag-waving Sri Lankans sitting in the road, shouting stuff I couldn't decipher through megaphones. I kept walking, still determined not to miss my train, and ended up having to shoulder* through the crowd quite forcefully, as there were so many of them.
Finally I got to Westminster Bridge, hot, flustered and increasingly grumpy. A tape line was across the bridge, preventing people from crossing it, and many unsmiling policemen stood there.
"You can't cross here " they told me.
I looked at the people walking up and down on the other side of the tape and said "But I need to get to Waterloo station."
"Sorry madam, you must walk down to the next bridge."
So. I had to shoulder my way back through the protesters, down the steps, along the Embankment and across Hungerford Bridge. Took me bloody miles out of my way and meant I missed my train. Gah.
Too much bloody democracy, if you ask me.
Another thing. It is an illegal protest, given that there had been no notice sent to the police. Why, therefore, has it been it allowed to run for three days (and counting)?
*My shoulders, the top of most of their heads - they are quite a petite people, it seems