The upside of having a new phone is organisation.
It can do everything and it forgets nothing.
Yesterday I found myself going through an old notebook.
It was the sort that most of us have from time to time.
Scribbled notes, telephone numbers...names from the past.
I tiptoed through the pages, cherry picking the contacts I needed to store in my new shiny smart phone.
One name caught my eye. I shall call her Helen.
Helen and I were friends and colleagues in Sheffield and we worked very effectively together.
She was a consultant and I was the ward manager, and apart from sharing a respect and depth of knowledge in the field we found ourselves in, we shared a wicked sense of humour, similar emotional intelligence and benefited from liking each other a great deal.
She moved away before I left Sheffield and as friends do sometimes when life gets in the way, we lost touch.
Yesterday I spied her old mobile number, hidden away in a corner of my notebook
It was twelve years old , so I doubted it would be current, but on impulse I messaged her.
The reply came back almost immediately and messages shot back and forth with gay abandon even though she was at work and couldn't really " speak"
We have arranged to meet up and even though texts are notoriously unemotional sometimes, something in the tone of it prompted me to ask "are you happy?"
The reply moved me with it's honesty
"Not very...no....my life isn't awful. Just not what I wanted it to be"
It can do everything and it forgets nothing.
Yesterday I found myself going through an old notebook.
It was the sort that most of us have from time to time.
Scribbled notes, telephone numbers...names from the past.
I tiptoed through the pages, cherry picking the contacts I needed to store in my new shiny smart phone.
One name caught my eye. I shall call her Helen.
Helen and I were friends and colleagues in Sheffield and we worked very effectively together.
She was a consultant and I was the ward manager, and apart from sharing a respect and depth of knowledge in the field we found ourselves in, we shared a wicked sense of humour, similar emotional intelligence and benefited from liking each other a great deal.
She moved away before I left Sheffield and as friends do sometimes when life gets in the way, we lost touch.
Yesterday I spied her old mobile number, hidden away in a corner of my notebook
It was twelve years old , so I doubted it would be current, but on impulse I messaged her.
The reply came back almost immediately and messages shot back and forth with gay abandon even though she was at work and couldn't really " speak"
We have arranged to meet up and even though texts are notoriously unemotional sometimes, something in the tone of it prompted me to ask "are you happy?"
The reply moved me with it's honesty
"Not very...no....my life isn't awful. Just not what I wanted it to be"