Tonight, Ro and I are paying the first visit of the month to the Snape Proms. I am looking forward to it. Mozart, Bruch and Brahms are on the programme (their music not the dead composers in skeletal form).
I stood wondering what to have for lunch. Nothing in the fridge quite did it, nor in the cupboard. I opened the little freezer on top of the fridge. It contains a bag of ice, a wine chiller and a tub of ice cream which the Sage bought. Its message led me to pour some wine, but didn't inspire me. Then Ro came down the back stairs, carrying an empty cereal bowl.
"We're going to Snape tonight - shall we have supper there?" He thought that was a good idea, but added sniffingly that he thinks he's developing a cold. "Chilli omelette!" I declared. "Yes please" he replied. I went down to the greenhouse and tasted Hungarian Hot Wax, Jalapeño and Georgia Flame. Unable to decide, I picked them and chopped an onion and a tomato and chucked in all three peppers. He had 4 bantam eggs (they are small) and I had 3 and we shared the hot filling. I breathe freely. I trust he does.
I bought some new phones, weeks ago, and couldn't be arsed to read the instructions and set them up. I mean, really. I finally did it today though - well, one of them. The rest of them are still charging. The recorded voice on the answerphone was awful. Really bad vowels. I had to resort to doing a message myself. It's so embarrassing, to hear your own voice. The first time, I could hear myself breathing, so I did it again. Still makes me cringe. Posh little girl, surely I have a deeper voice than that? 'this is The Sage and Z's answerphone, you're welcome to leave a message' or something like that is what I've said. I hate long messages. Once I rang someone from a telephone box and my money ran out before the message ended. I haven't left our names before, but now we're internationally known via this blog and his website (and there's a sale coming up) ... I still couldn't turn it into a business message but oh hell, there's no privacy anyway.
The phone rang while I was cooking the omelettes. Ro was horrified. "There's no choice of ringtones" I explained. He disagreed. I've read the bloody book, I don't think there is. He's welcome to deal with it. I have enough on my plate, teaching the Sage how to use a new phone.
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11 comments:
Please give me a chance to listen although perhaps not as some people can't tell us apart!
I'll give you that bwah-ha-ha moment, although it may give you pause for thought. I've given the Sage and Ro carte blanche to change it, but I doubt they'll bother. They are still rolling on the floor. *sigh* No wonder I have no self confidence.
I'm stuffed full of cherry pie and vanilla custard.
Ooh, I haven't had cherry pie for ages. I could just fancy some right now.
Why does everything need instructions these days?
Life has become very complicated.
I'm one of these odd people who read instruction books. I suppose it started with the Bible.
I have two new 'phones, and an answerphone, for my house.
*Goes off to look for the manuals*
When they design new phobile moans, changing the ring tone has a higher priority then being able to make calls.
Like WC Fields when reading the Bible, I'm looking for loopholes.
There was no alternative ringtone for the base unit. The handset had a range of appalling options. The one it came with was the least objectionable. I choose the simplest ring I can for my mobile. The one I have now has a stupid echo, but at least it isn't an unsuitable tune.
As you know, kiddo, I've chosen a reasonably appalling tune for my mobile as I'm pretty confident no one else would ever chose it and I won't be delving in my bag unnecessarily
So you actually read the instructions first? I've often neglected that part (and made a mess of things at times.)
As for not liking the sound of your own voice when recorded, I, too, find it embarrassing, but my other problem is that over the phone I sound like a very young girl. This can be awkward if you're ringing officialdom as an O.A.P. Another time I was 'chatted up' by a stranger. When I asked him how old he thought I was he guessed early twenties so I said he could double that and then add some more. That shut him up!
Wink, I have some pride. Also, if you've forgotten to turn it off and it rings in a meeting, I'd be even more embarrassed if it chirped out the Birdie Song or something like that.
I needed the instructions to set up the answerphone, Sandy. And then I had to show the Sage what to do.
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