Texting

Personally, I find texting (sending an SMS for any non-Anglo Saxon readers) about one of the daftest and most inconvenient methods of communication ever invented. God knows why it caught on but my thumb just can't work a phone key-pad - it would be easier etching hieroglyphs in a tablet of wet clay with a stylus of goose feather. And predictive texting doesn't really work for me either although it has given rise to one of the funniest comedy sketches ever:-



STOP PRESS - last time I tried to predictively text the word "shit" (on the rare occasions I do text, it tends to come up), I was indeed offered "shiv" (an improvised knife like object as in "I despatched the blackguard with my shiv") or "pigt" (the acronym for the phosphate thingy enzyme). But tonight, I tried it and it does offer "shit" first with "shiv" and "pigt" as second and third choices - annoying if you're wanting to text someone about a blackguard despatching or microbiology breakthrough, though ...

 

How did I get on to this? Oh yes! Text messages! We've suddenly become great fans of them. Well receiving them anyway. One of the websites our holiday apartment is advertised with sends you a text if anyone makes an enquiry. So as we're rather sad old people that no-one else texts, whenever the phone chirps we know it's an enquiry. Which is nice.

Unless, of course, it's bastard PT Communicações (the Portuguese equivalent of BT) with an unsolicited text (or worse, phone call) trying to sign me up to one of their deals which actually ends up costing you more. V tempted to pay a call to PTC armed with a shiv and drop a bag of pigt down their chimney.