DESPITE aversion to use of mobile phones on trains, I have been known to occasionally carry one with me.
This is usually part of a general plan to leave work early, rather then hang around in office waiting for vital call to be returned.
In fairness to other passengers, I usually keep phone out of bag and within reach.
If it rings I can then answer and be out of the carriage and into the corridor within seconds, thus sparing fellow passengers and self the embarrassment of sharing shouted conversation about whether so and so would like to feature in magazine article about Britain's most eligible bachelors or agree to take part in Millennium Woman feature.
The downside of this public spirited tactic is that I tend to grab bag when train nears Brighton and head for doors, forgetting that phone is still on seat.
Have done this several times and not realised until the person I'd been waiting to get call from calls at work and tells me they tried my mobile all last night but failed to get a response.
In past have had to pay large bill incorporating nearly 24 hours' worth of calls to Australia, have lengthy tour of lost property office in East Croydon where 500 phones were on display but none were mine, and once managed to phone station manager who in turn got in touch with conductor who found phone and returned it to me the next morning.
This week I left work, leaving mobile number for someone I'd been trying to reach all day and only realised when colleague called me at home that once again I'd succeeded in leaving phone on train.
It took me several phone calls to station and lost property before realising that most obvious thing to do would be to phone the phone itself.
Was delighted to find it answered by helpful and charming man calling himself Matt.
Matt is in publishing and usually travels to London daily but today worked from home and, when I called, was on his way up for an evening literary launch.
Matt was friendly and funny and has agreed to take custody of phone until tomorrow morning when he's promised to meet me by the baguette shop on Victoria Station.
Matt says he'll have to leave phone switched off while he's at literary launch but since I am waiting for an important call will answer it until that time and pass on my home number to callers.
Wonder if it was wise to give Matt character my home phone number but since I have now fallen in love with him, am past caring.
Am considering what to wear tomorrow morning for baguette shop meeting when I realise I'm not sure what Matt looks like.
Perfect excuse to call him back.
"Matt, it's me," I say - perhaps too over-familiar?
"I forgot to ask what you look like."
Can't believe my luck when he describes self as "about six foot two with blond hair and brandishing a mobile phone..."
Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.
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