Missing phone

So, last night, Mirinda called to say she’d lost her little friend. The last time she’d used it was to call me from the ferry but she thought she could have left it in the black cab she took from Waitrose to the flat. She was a bit concerned for its well being.

Given the task of locating it, I managed to login to iCloud and used the find my phone facility. And, miracle of miracles, there it was, at the ferry wharf. And there it stayed all night.

Then, this morning, Mirinda went to the ticket office to ask for it from the Clipper Nazi in charge. The conversation went something like this:

M: I lost my phone yesterday, do you have it?
CN: What kind of phone is it?
M: An iPhone.
CN: (Holding up phone) No, this isn’t an iPhone.
M: Err…yes it is.
CN: Well, if you tell me the PIN I’ll check that it’s yours.
M: How about you give me the phone and I’ll enter my own PIN and you’ll see that I own it.

The Clipper Nazi reluctantly handed the phone over and Mirinda successfully activated it. She was about to walk away when the Clipper Nazi indicated she wasn’t finished.

CN: Hang on. There’s a note with it.
M: Note?
CN: Yes. The woman who handed it in left a note. It has her name and address on it and the words ‘don’t give it to her’ written underneath. What do you think that means?
M: I really have no idea but you’re not getting my phone back.
CN: Maybe it means don’t give it to the woman who found it.
M: That doesn’t make a lot of sense though, does it.
CN: I guess.

And so, happily reunited, Mirinda continued on to work secure in the knowledge that the Clipper ferry staff are clearly mad. I knew she’d collected it because I followed her journey along the Thames.

Meanwhile, back in Farnham, I had my yearly visit with my handle-bar moustached optician to discover that my eyesight has improved by .05 and while I don’t know what the measurement is, it’s obviously good. Though not good enough for new glasses. Which is good because I really like my present pair. So all good really.

At the optician