lost in phonespace

[devi]

I lost my phone on Sunday night, somewhere between the restaurant I was at with the Zokutou people and the bus home. This isn't as annoying as it could be - I've got a new one on the insurance already and I had all my numbers written down. But I needed an alarm clock, so I dug out my old mostly-knackered handset and turned it on for the first time in maybe six months.

"Answer Phone message," it said.

This was very strange. I hadn't used that number in a year. I couldn't think of anyone who'd be likely to phone me who would have that number and not my new one. I rang up voicemail, a little nervous, thinking about people I've lost touch with.

The message was left on Saturday. "Hello," said a deep, unfamiliar, kind Scottish voice, "this is Sam, just wondering how you are today. I phoned up [inaudible] but I couldn't get the message out of him. Probably drunk in bed. Anyway [he hesitates] we're meeting at ten-thirty at [Bar Code?] on [George the Fourth Bridge?]. Give me a call when you get this message. 'Bye."

Sam hadn't left a number. Poor Sam. I hope he didn't think she (I presume it was a she) was avoiding him, and that they managed to sort out their communications blip and have their drinks together in Bar Code, wherever it is, looking at pretty lights bobbing in some river.

*

(Edit: Google is your friend, and it seems I was wrong about almost everything. There's no river: George IV Bridge is that lovely elevated street in Edinburgh. It has a Bar Kohl, which is a gay bar, so it's probably not a she.

I love the internet.)

Comments

[rainsinger.livejournal.com]

When I first got my phone I kept it switched off a lot of the time (I was cramming for my exams) and on re-activating found a series of voicemail messages from a woman for someone called George that went along the lines of:

*Hi George, it's me, just wanted to call you and say I had a wonderful time last night*
*Hi George, let's go out again sometime, call me back*
*George, why aren't you ringing? Did our night together mean nothing to you?*
*George, is there someone else? George answer me* and so on, and at one point she rang again and I answered and tried to explain I wasn't George and she had a go at me saying I had stolen George's phone and was sabotaging her love affair. I really should have replied with *Hi, this is George's wife*

[nevecat.livejournal.com]

Oh, my grandmother went one better than that - she got so sick of someone persistently ringing her landline & launching into phone conversations without stopping for breath (and refusing to accept they weren't actually ever ringing the person they thought they were), that eventually she put on her best old-school nurse's voice and informed them that [person] had sadly passed away...

She never had phone calls from the caller again ;)