Bloody Phone

I lost my phone last night. Grrr! I've never misplaced my phone, let alone lost it. I went out for dinner with all of my old girlfriends to a restaurant in Brighton. I had on camouflage pants with shallow pockets and it must have just slipped out in the taxi. I, actually, felt my cigarettes slip out of my pocket, at one stage and I retrieved them. So, why didn't I feel the phone go? Grrr! Again! Grrr!

I called the taxi company, who were of moderate help. Silver Top were okay, but Black were useless. Their policy is that the drivers hand them into any police station, anywhere. In other words, they don't want to know and they don't care. The trouble is that as the girls were booking a taxi at the restaurant, clever me hailed one in the street. I was outside having a smoke, it wasn't that hard. So, therefore we don't, actually, know what taxi company taxi we were in.

I don't even use my phone that much, but I went to call two people this morning, as we are heading up to Bolago for the day, but, of course, I don't know anybodies phone numbers, they are all in my phone. Grrr!