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Autumn 1997
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I hate cell-phone users on principle. The carry those little devices with them all the time - 'must stay on-line' - all day and all night. I thought the idea was that it created the freedom not to be communicated with. Silly me.
They always talk louder than necessary on trains - and have you noticed that the conversations are always "frightfully amusing." I love it when the connection breaks up or the connection comes to an end because they look so awkward, like they have just been beamed down. But normal usage pales into insignificance compared to the pursuit of fitness with cell-phone in hand.
I recently went on a cycle tour and looked forward to a day of man and machine working as one, the miles of road passing smoothly under my knobblies. The camaraderie of the bikers encouraging each other and swapping stories of tours past while carbo-loading from roadside eateries. Not a chance. Everyone had one of those on-board computer/heart monitors thingummijigs and a rucksack full of electronics and like an anorak convention, discussed the functionality and price in load and happy voices.
Every pit stop was an opportunity to phone home and report on progress to a dispirited family trying to get a lie-in. Actual cycling times considered, accuracy of readouts compared and estimated times of arrival were the burning questions.
My bike squeaks a lot and it is very dirty most of the time but we have been through a lot together, mainly mud. I was incensed when a group of fellow athletes went past, one of whom had a cell-phone pressed to the side of his designer helmet, and he had the nerve to say in a very load voice: "Just hold on a minute, there is a lot of background noise."
I was so angry I stopped my bike, reached into my rucksack and dialled home.
Andrew Morris is a freelance IT journalist although he pretends to be something far ore interesting at parties. He can be reached via e-mail at andrew@i-world.u-net.com
Andrew Morris
Last Updated: 31 October 1999