On Mobile Telephones

Ones niece Josella has recently acquired one of those portable telephones. Allows her to keep in touch with the other debutantes and plays 'Rule Britannia' every time someone calls her. Been trying to convince one to invest in one as well. Absolutely not, bloody infernal devices, see the local common oiks hanging around outside the village store using them. Tippity-tapping away to their equally revolting chums, probably informing them that Mr Bhutee has had a few cases of cheap cider delivered and to get there before they drink it all. Not going to lower oneself to that level and anyway, carrying one means that the mem' can get hold of one even when one is enjoying a quiet snifter at ones club or comfortably ensconced in the summer house with a G and T and one of Sir Percivals collection of vintage erotica.

Of course, one isn't completely out of touch with technology. Ones grandfather, the late Sir 'Binky' Fortescue VC, OBE, DFC had one of Mr Bells Telephonic Apparatus installed in the 1890s. Been providing sterling service ever since without the need for gimmicks and makeovers. Does the job it was designed for and can't see Mr Bell resorting to annoying blue amphibians to sell a few more.

However, one does rather prefer to use the old fashioned method of pen and paper. Scribble a missive and get Blenkinsop to deliver it to the mem' in the East wing. If he returns safely unmarked by a couple of rounds of birdshot and without his wooden leg in splinters one knows the message has been well received. Much more pleasant than having to listen to the mems dulcet tones emanating from ones telephone as she employs the turn of phrase that would make a navvy blush.