Troilus and Cresuda...strike back.

Hello internet!

It's time for another little self-deprecating update from the "series of awkward moments" which constitutes my life. Can I hear a hurrah?! Oh it sounds so sad when it's just me cheering.

ANYWAY - let's try and avoid that gaping pit of sad ramblings and cut to the (dubious) humour.

So, today's humiliation was thankfully, narrowly avoided. But by god it was close. Basically, I very nearly made a Classics joke to a complete stranger. Now, I freaking love Classics jokes. They are hilarious. Many a happy hour was spent at university playing variations of the classic (ha!) 'shag, travel, marry' game with different Roman Emperors. (All time favourite = Caligula/Nero/Domitian. BUURRRRN). Or there was the worrying phase I went through of going out, getting on it, and randomly texting people I didn't know particularly well from my course asking them "WHO IS YOUR FAVOURITE ROMAN EMPEROR!!!!!!1".

So today was basically the result of the classicist in me having been pent up for too long. ERROR. Lesson learnt. I'll give y'all a brief run down of what happened:

So I was outside my work having a smoke, and my building is behind a gate. On the other side of the gate there is an alley way with a pub and another office building. So this bloke came out of the office also to have a smoke. So I'm standing there, glancing across at this other human being and the thought popped into my head that this gate was acting as a kind of barrier between us. We could still communicate through it and all - just between the bars. What does this prompt me to want to say?

"Hey! I just thought of something...WE'RE LIKE TROILUS AND CRESUDA!!!!!!!

Oh Christ, no. Just, no.

For those of you who have no freaking idea who Troilus and or Cresuda were, they were basically a pair of lovers who communicated with each other through a hole in a wall. It's knock-out stuff. Actually I'm fairly sure they end up dying somehow, horribly but frankly that's irrelevent. For the meantime, lets just focus - in fact CLING ON to the fact that by the thinnest glimmer of self control, I managed to restrain myself from shouting the following words at a total stranger:

"TROILUS!

CRESUDA!

WALL

LOVERS

DEATH

CLASSICS!!!!!!!"

Thank fuck for that.

A brief history of mobile phones

I can count the number of mobile phones I have had on one hand. I'm no Anne Boleyn, I've just only ever had 5. I'm really not fussed by phones which will tell you your hair looks nice or remind you what you did the night before. I just need one which can send a text message either saying: "Where are you?" or "Just coming, G&T, thanks" or which can handle me making a phone call to say "Sorry, I'm late". This is predominantly what I need and use my phone for.

I'm currently experiencing some mild phone trauma, in that mine has broken and so I've been forced to take a walk down memory lane with the replacements and it's jogged my memory as to the various phones I've had in the past 10 years. Hold onto your hats people, this is going to be a nail biting ride.

I want to make reference to my first one, purely because it secured my place in the hall of "people certain never to be famous, cool or respected". Please see below:

Please don't be distracted or impressed by the dazzling selection of colours. It was a rubbish phone. That aerial may look sturdy but it will snap like a twig. Believe me. I will never forget the time my brother and I were wandering around one of those giant supermarkets in France where you meet 90 year olds who came in for some fromage and never found their way out and saw MY phone, my pride and joy on sale for less than a fucking euro. Shame.

Anyway, I think I actually used this humiliation to my advantage as it meant I actually motivated myself into buying a better one, and so I did what the craze was at the time, and bought a yo-yo. I mean a Nokia. And to be fair, Nokia's have never let me down. When my crackberry broke and I had to revert to an old model, I had a fun week typing-out-every-single-letter-in-a-text on this bad boy:

What a fucking classic. I'll tell you, I actually was pretty proud of this. I got looks of admiration on the tube when I first pulled it out and they swiftly changed to looks of seething envy as I'd happily while away the tedium of the tube with a quick game of Snake 2. Oh yes. Someone even told me they are going for upwards of £300 on ebay, so I have a back up plan in case the whole "career" thing falls through too - win!

However, sadly, I have also abandoned this one. Frankly, it was just bloody knackering. I felt like I'd dived into a pool, rescued a brick, and was now carrying this brick around in my pocket ALL THE TIME. So I've opted for the next best thing. My most recent, old phone. This is a classic. It's still a Nokia, but it's very much an upgrade-downgrade situation I've gone for.

You see, it's an upgrade, in the sense that it's a better phone (colour, camera, can connect to the internet if it really tries but can't actually display a webpage, bless it) but downgrade in the sense that it's not really in a condition to still qualify as a phone. I'd say it's approximately 75% electrical tape and 15% phone. You can see most of the screen but typing is a bit of a nightmare. I'll upload a photo at some point for the full effect, but right now, it texts, it rings (quietly, the tape has muted it quite a lot) and I love it.