I’ve spent much of the evening writing letters. Handwritten ones, that is, which is most unusual. One is to a friend in America, who doesn’t use the internet and the other to a friend who lives near Norwich who does, but who much prefers a ‘real’ letter to an email. LT provided me with an envelope but then I discovered that I didn’t have the address of my Norwich friend on my phone. No matter, there’s always bt.com … Except that it now transpires that he’s ex-directory. I know the name of the road and the village, but not the number – so he’s going to get an email after all.
i suppose people have good reasons for going ex-directory, but it’s not very helpful when a friend needs their address or phone number (I do have the latter, but I want to write, not phone).
in my younger days, I had quite a telephone phobia. Telephobia, hmmm. I’m over it now but I still find it a slight challenge to pick up the phone to make a call – I’ve always been fine with answering. I think it started when, as a child, I accidentally knocked the phone off the hook and a voice said “Number please?” I was terrified, slammed the phone down and ran away. I probably would again, actually.