Saturday, January 23, 2010


I'm rubbish on the phone. My dearest and closest friends and family know this - they don't call me and I don't call them. I write/email/drop in but phone? no. I possess an ancient mobile that is never turned on and the belles call it the dinophone as it's so old. I spend less than £10 a year on my mobile - mostly when I'm away at the RNA conference or ringing from a train to arrange for my lift from the station. I can't text as my dyscalculia makes it nigh on impossible. At work I have to brace myself to make calls because I know I will ramble, stutter and make a fool of myself.
So when I arrived home on Thursday to be greeted by Mr Nell with the news that my editor had rung and could I call her back...
Dear Ed, I appologise if I sounded not quite the full ticket. I'm sure you had a much more coherent conversation with Mr Nell.

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