On Monday 7th December, a terrible crime was committed in the large Sainsbury’s just off Effra Road in Brixton. Some d*ckhead stole my phone. So instead of crying, and kicking doorframes and yelling ‘WHY ME!’, I accepted that unfortunately more often than not, this happens to everyone at some point, and instead decided to experiment and flirt with the idea of living in a 70s/80s professional career no phone timewarp.
Day 1: Tuesday 8th December
7.15am: Wake up call to make way for a run. 7.30am awake up call instead from tired housemate and then a snooze for 10 minutes, not her fault we were up late wondering about my poor baby phone and how cold and alone it must be feeling without its momma.
9am: Leaving for work, patted my pockets before leaving. Wave of ‘Urgghh I have no phone wah’ washed over me. Especially as the oyster travelcard of dreams was located in the pocket of the phone case. A new one of them to purchase from the crying bank account.
1pm: Lunch. Off to the phone shop for a new sim card. Sit in a chair waiting to be served, look at pictures on wall. Look at others waiting, everyone on phones. I am staring into space thinking about how empty my hands are. Asked first person what time it was. Got reply like I’d asked if I could lick their face.
5pm: Arrange over Facebook (haven’t gone completely ice age) to meet up with boyfriend, give strict instructions to head to my house to avoid standing at tube station like a willy.
6.30pm: Asked second person for the time today. They took long look at 70s outfit and decided I was actress getting into role for new BBC Drama.
7pm: Find boyfriend at tube, impeccable timing skills from me. Wonder is life so bad without a phone after all?
Answer after Day 1: Yes.
Day 2: Wednesday 9th December
7.30am: Boyfriend snoozes alarm until 8am. Dash for shower, I realise I wouldn’t have got up any earlier if I’d set the alarm.
9.15am: Early for work, but only have a vague idea as pushed out of the way of viewing the clock on underground by disgruntled morning commute phone owners. If only they knew about my pain.
1pm: Lunch. No wedding quizzes on Buzzfeed app 😦
5pm: Slight panic at the thought of once again wandering London aiming to meet up with boyfriend and without phone.
6.30pm: Late to meet boyfriend, he is stood exactly where he said he would be, has stood in cold for 20 minutes, I have reassurance we could have dated in the 70s.
8pm: Seeing Bill Bailey, luckily no photography allowed in the appollo so no phone envy. Laugh a lot and forget I even have phone, until one of his sketches involves jamming to iPhone tune. Silently weep in toilets at interval.
12am: Friend in need has to call my boyfriend to get through to me. His phone also broken, shards of iPhone glass are digging into my ear. Asks why I didn’t reply to her snapchat, remind her I have no phone. She finds it funny. I do not.
Verdict Day 2: Hate everyone, want my phone.
Day 3: Thursday 10th December
8am: Wake up late due to unfamiliar sounding alarm.
9.45am: Arrive late at work because of red signal tubes, not knowing the time and walking around in tick tock denial.
12.20pm: Not having a phone has made me more on time for lunch because I’m scared I’ve been out of the office too long so I panic and am actually out for 20 minutes.
1pm: Take real lunch.
7pm: No phone means I have no friends to make plans with so working late and sidling off to work drinks is the easier option. I don’t go swimming because without a phone I don’t know what time the pool closes and that’s the excuse I’m sticking to.
Feeling Day 3: I forgot at two points that I didn’t have a phone, I was eating at one point and shitting at the other. Two times a phone isn’t needed. (I feel like my boyfriend would argue the latter).
Day 4: Friday 11th December
8.20am: Housemate wakes me up because my laptop alarm hasn’t gone off and I’m still fast asleep. Apple are failing me a lot this week, we’re going through a turbulent time in our relationship, I hope we pull through it.
10am: I’m technically late for work but it’s a Friday and being late on a Friday in my office isn’t a thing. I explain the laptop alarm situation and reiterate that I got my phone stolen and I get a chorus of ‘ahhs’ and ‘oh that sucks’ from the two people that have showed up on a Friday, one of which happens to be my boss so I appreciate the attention.
12pm: I’ve found my bosses on Facebook, accidentally, but I can’t check their profiles because I’m sat next to them. I don’t have a secret phone device to pretend I’m checking my calendar on…I am lost.
1pm: Dad emails me picture of our dog as a puppy being held by an attractive (and topless) male model to me and my siblings. That thief may have stole my phone but they WILL NOT STEAL MY JOY.
11pm: There is a lot of confusion between me and the boyfriend as to his whereabouts and how alive he is on a scale of 1- 10. With one without a phone and another that is broken and stabbing shards of glass into the sides of one’s face, communication never was to be simple.
Verdict end of Day 4: Empty.
Day 5: Saturday 12th December
9am: Today is an important day, a Christmas day. Full of cheer and Christmas joy. It’s the day of our Christmas meal.
5pm: Who knew how much I wanted to instagram a pig in blanket before? The rest of the dinner stays committed to memory as even phoneaholic Blasmin doesn’t touch the insta buttons whilst we dream team cook the Christmas dinner.
10.30pm: No pictures are taken on what can be described as the most university night out ever. There are no pictures, therefore no memories. Which is great for how drunk I got.
3am: What’s a phone? Where’s my bed?
Verdict: Glad I didn’t have a phone today, I would have only lost it anyway.
Day 6: Sunday 13th December
11am: Hungover, I rarely use my phone. I don’t know why, it’s maybe because my eyes can’t read lines of tweets without making me want to throw up. Or perhaps it’s the fact that I spend the day of being hungover in the arms of the ones I love, and pizzas I enjoy. Who knows.
End of Day 6: I’ve forgotten what phones are like.
Day 7: Monday 14th December
11am: I’m walking to the post office. I’ve made the boyfriend come with me like it’s some monumental occasion where the phone that I have waiting for me at the post office in Streatham Hill is the new iPhone 7S3000+ and not my mum’s 4 year old second hand Samsung S3.
2pm: The phone is charged, the SIM is accepted and my background is that of my parents leaping into a sunset on holiday in Greece where they look silouhettes of Fred and Wilma Flintstone, and I am refusing to change it.
4pm: Someone rings me, I’m not sure if they’ve rang me or if Will Young is trapped inside my mum’s phone, she has three songs on this phone, all by Will Young and all used for all of the phone elements. Ringtone, Alarm and possibly voicemail message. My phone is sporadically ringing on and off loud so there are enough people (2) leaving messages for me to find out.
??: I’m like that person who hasn’t had a phone for a week and forgets that they’re a thing, friends are contacting me again, slowly, the texts come through ‘WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?’ ‘OMG HAVE YOU BEEN LOST WITHOUT IT?’ ‘YOU WERE GONE FOREVER, I THOUGHT YOU’D ALSO DELETED FACEBOOK’.
Day 8: Tuesday 15th December
6.59am: I am awoken to the soft but waking tones of Will Young. It is payday, I instantly transfer money to the BUY NEW PHONE fund set up on my account. I cannot live with this shit. I want my baby back.
RIP iPhone 5s in CHAMPAGNE, you will be sorely missed.