Will It Never End?

Guess what?
It happened again.
Oh Yes.

My phone started ringing.
Me: Hello?
Caller: You forgot your bear.
Me: I'm sorry?
Caller: Felicity?
Me: Um No, you have the wrong number.

Of course they have the wrong number. I am the eternal wrong number.
I'm now imagining Felicity as a bear wrangler though. And that somewhere a lady has a grizzly running riot in her lounge that she cannot control.

Seriously...

Can people not manage to complete a phone number in the right order?

I would like to let the world know that 5.50am is a highly inappropriate time to dial the wrong number. It's also very bad form to let the phone ring for just long enough to make sure the sleeping person is wide awake before hanging up.

What's even worse is withholding your number so that the poor, suddenly awakened victim isn't able to call the number back and shout viciously at the culprit.

Grrrr.
That's all.

More Misdiallings

The ding-dong from my phone announced the arrival of a new text message.
It was a number I didn't recognise, using words I didn't recognise.
"Hey gawjus" it read.
I frowned. Was someone teasing me from a new phone number or was this a misdial?
"Gawjus?! Me?" I replied.
"O Yes" came the reply.
Anyone that knows me knows I loathe txtspk only a little more than I loathe bad spelling.
I replied again, "Hmm. I think you either have the wrong number or you changed your number."
Finally I received a response in English; "who is this?" they asked.
"Who do you think it is?" I asked, ignoring the rule about not answering a question with a question.
"Itd b easier if u told me haha" they said, swiftly followed by "Is dis Sheila?"
Ah, safe to say I am indeed not Sheila.
"No, I'm sleepyhead"
I thought this would be the end of it. But no. More terrible txtspk came my way.
"K kool, i got rong numba sori" Seriously. Who talks like that?
In my polite manner, I responded again "No worries. Cheers!"
That was the end. Surely?
No.
"Bye xxxxxxxxx mwah! X"
I wonder if he's as free with his kisses with all strangers?
I also wonder if my numbers are out there for all and sundry to call and text at their leisure. Surely this isn't normal? Oh wait, nor am I!

Wrong Numbers

Now really. Do I get an abnormal amount of wrong numbers, or does this happen to everyone?

So it's the weekend, I'm enjoying sleeping. At least I assume I was as I didn't enjoy being woken at 7.50am. By a text message, reminding me of an appointment I didn't ask for and didn't want. More on that later.
I have a rant to myself about the idiots responsible for the text and fall back to sleep.
To be woken just twenty minutes later by my home phone ringing.
I run into the computer room (cursing having left the bedroom cordless downstairs) and answer the phone.
Me: Hello?
Caller: Sheila? (or Shirley, Shania, Syliva, some name that did at least share my initial)
Me: Um, I think you have the wrong number.
Caller: Oh. *Hangs up*
Me: *Yelling at dial tone* AND I WAS BLOODY SLEEPING YOU BITCH!

I'm not so good in a morning.
And would it have killed her to apologise? Really? Rant. Rant. Rant.

So tonight, I sit on my sofa, resting after tea.
Phone rings.
Me: Hello?
Caller: *In Darth Vader-esque voice* It's only meeeee.
Me: Err. (Strangely lost for words)
Me: I think you possibly have the wrong number.
Caller: Oh. Well, um, Sorry. Bye.

Seriously. What the hell?

Oh, and, the text message. Some time ago I was in a very minor car accident. Following this I received a phone call to ask if I wanted to make a personal injury claim. I said that as I had no injury, there would be little point.
That was that.
So I thought.
A while later I got a second call, they asked if I'd like to make a personal injury claim following the accident. I reiterated that there had been no injury, I was 100% fine and did not want to make a claim.
That was finally that.
Apparently not.
A letter arrived, with the date and time of the appointment for me to be assessed for my personal injury claim. Seriously. What the hell?
So, I decided not to bother making the phone call to cancel it.
They plainly have no intention of listening to me and have wasted my time enough already.
Then the aforementioned text arrived and made me so cross that I definitely wasn't cancelling.
The day of the appointment arrived and I was sitting happily at home when my phone rang.
The gentleman said he was calling from the physiotherapy department about my appointment for my personal injury claim.
I wasn't happy.
"I do not have an injury."
"I never had an injury."
"I've told you twice I don't want to make a claim."
Did you have an injury you've recovered from? he asked.
"No I did not, I have had bigger bumps on The Corkscrew at Alton Towers."
"I am totally, 100% fine and have been since the moment of the impact."
"It was a tiny, tiny, tiny bump and I didn't even have the minutest of aches."

You know, I think that might, actually, be that.
It had better be!

Song Of The Week XII & A Wrong Number

Every time I listen to this song I just can't help but bop around. If the camera were a little less blurry and you were here I'd be almost able to point to myself in the crowd of this video doing some bopping.
How very grateful you should be that I can't do that.
Although I might have to scour youtube for other videos of Cambridge Folk Festival and see if my scarlet hair is in evidence anywhere.

So, this week, it's the delights of The Dhol Foundation. Who I love. I love Johnny Kalsi's work with Afrocelts/Afro Celt Sound System and this is superb too. If it weren't for my total lack of musical talent I might quite fancy a dhol. But then, I really fancy playing the fiddle too. I'm not great with decisions, although my neighbours might object to the dhol as it's really bloody loud. I can't remember how many decibels and wikipedia isn't helping me, nor is google, or I just haven't been tenacious enough.

The Dhol Foundation - After The Rain:


It's a damn shame that it gets cut short, but I chose this one because I can say I was there.

I just have one of those numbers. This morning. 10am
Riiiiiiing (that's the phone - in case you wondered)
Me: Hello
Mystery Caller: Hello young lady!
Me: Hello, How are you?
MC: Good thanks, you?
Me: Um, who is this?
MC: It's your father.
Me: I think you may have the wrong number as you really don't sound like my dad.
MC: Oh, I thought you were my daughter.
Me: I'm afraid not. Unless there's something my mother isn't telling me.
MC: I thought I got the right number from my mobile.
MC: Oh well, I'm sorry to have disturbed you.
Me: I'm pretty lazy and was sitting right by the phone anyway.

Do I have an abnormally high number of people mis-dialling?

An added note, I learnt something new this week. Tagalog is a language spoken in the Phillipines. But apparently there are approximately 180 languages spoken there. This fascinates me.

Sheila?

My phone rings, a number I don't recognise is displayed and I wonder who it can be, run though all the possibilities and yet with my imagination, I'm never right.

Me:Hello?
Caller: Sheila?
Me: Er No, I think you have the wrong number, I'm sorry.
Caller: Oh, I'm so, so sorry.
Me: No that's fine, don't worry.
Caller: I'm really very sorry.
Me: Really it's fine. Bye.
Caller: Sorry!

A few minutes pass. My phone rings. This time I recognise the number.

Me: I'm really sorry, it's still the wrong number.
Caller: Oh my goodness, I'm trying to.. well... my granddaughter... bad car accident. Oh my goodness.
Me: Oh... Er...
Caller: I'm so very, very sorry.
Me: No really, it's no trouble. Don't worry.
Caller: Oh but it is such trouble for you!
Me: Honestly it's fine.
Caller: Oh I'm sorry. I don't know what... Oh dear...
Me: Um...

And she was gone. I might add there was a significant amount of slurring.
I love that I just sit here, minding my own business and the weirdness just comes right to my door. But seriously, what is it with me and wrong numbers?

Wrong Numbers

Phone rings.
I run up the stairs, cursing forgetting to bring the cordless downstairs.
Me: Hello!
Gentleman Caller: Hello, how are you?
Me: Fine thanks, and you? (thinking, who the hell is it?)
G. C.: Who is it?
Me: Who am I or who are you? (thinking, is it a test to see if I remember them, then thinking, shit, I don't remember them)
G. C.: Who are you?
Me: Who were you expecting?
G. C.: My sister.
Me: Then I'm definitely about to disappoint you.
G. C.: Oh, I wanted to wish her a Happy Birthday.
Me: Well, you're five months late, but you can wish me a Happy Birthday if you like?
G. C.:Happy Birthday!
Me: Well thank you!
G. C.: I suppose I'd better go find my sister.
Me: Ta ra!

That now holds the record for the most belated birthday greeting of my life.

On an unrelated note, my friend Paul - who has blackmailed me in the past, called me last night to tell me he forgot to poke his jacket potato. Which, isn't as rude as it sounds, but it did result in his oven door blowing open.
And Paul... I'm still waiting on photos of the debris.
The moral of this story - always prod your potato.