|Operation Rescue Belle's Phone|
So someone has my phone. Obviously they found it in the street and decided not to try to get it back to me, and then, after a week of me not knocking on their door to ask for it, they started texting and calling people with it (I realised soon afterwards and barred the service before they went over my monthly limit). I sent them a message telling them that I’d leave chocolate in my letterbox and would be happy to swap it for my phone. Didn’t work. I then ate the chocolate and called the numbers they’d contacted and asked the people who answered if they could kindly let their friend/relative know I’d report it to the police if they didn’t return my phone to me by Monday. From my detective work I’d deduced it was probably a school-aged person (and also that I should add ‘detective’ to my list of Awesome Careers to Consider Taking Up in Future), and I hoped that the threat of the police would compel him/her to return it, but that didn’t work either. Kids are made of tough stuff these days, turns out.
So today I headed to the police station to tell them about my phone (if parenting books have taught me anything, it’s that you have to follow through). The constable took down my details with a bored expression on her face, and she seemed to be fighting back a sigh when I told her that no, it wasn’t an iPhone, and no, it wasn’t a smart phone, it was just an old Nokia. Oh, and the screen was cracked. Write that down, too. I wondered whether I should ask if she’d seen The Castle by any chance, and explain that my phone maybe didn’t seem like it was worth her important police-y time but it was my phone. Those screen cracks came from repeated drops. That noise during calls is from my baby’s slobber. YOU CAN’T REPLACE STUFF LIKE THAT, Constable Higgins. (Well, I mean, you can, but THAT’S NOT THE POINT. It's about principles.)
She sent me on my way with a little card listing her details and a promise that she’d try re-calling all of the numbers I’d passed on. I don’t think I’m going to see it again. I’m trying not to remember the photos and videos on it that I hadn’t yet transferred to my computer. Meanwhile, I should receive a new SIM card in the mail early this week, and I bought a phone from Gumtree on Sunday. It’s a chunky slide Nokia, and I don’t like it at all which means (according to Murphy, who is rarely wrong) it will never break or be stolen or lost, and I will have this awful thing until the day I die.
OH MY GOODNESS THERE’S AN UPDATE: Alan just went downstairs to check the letterbox one last time and MY PHONE WAS THERE! In your face, Murphy! I may now have to find a new law upon which to base my entire life, but it was so worth it! WOooOOoOooOOOoOOoooOooOoOo!