Sunday, 25 May 2008
I have a confession to make.
Yes. I finally gave into a combination of repressed no-new-gadget frustration, too much time analysing fripperies, and an unpleasantly opportunistic, almost sneakily coincidental offer from those conniving bastards at Vodafone (no, I'm still not prepared to forgive them their inanely cheerful voice-recognition telephone support line). As a result of which, I traded up from a competent but flawed feature phone to what was Nokia's codpiece of a flagship when it came out, and has been kept one of the best through software updates and having had so much put in when it was new, and don't have to pay anything up front. I'm just indentured to the bastards for two years worth of contract.
And I'm still making manic chortling noises over this.
It has now been more than a week since I picked it up, since which time I have had no time to comment on it, having been to a motorbike rally in Mingoola, a delayed mothers'-day visit in Buderim, a Jaguar Driver's Club meeting in Newstead, a couple of instalments of work, and lots of scrabbling-to-catch-up-with-things time.
A brief rundown: It has GPS, which drains the battery but is a really cool toy. It has WiFi, which means that I can sit at home, where I already have two perfectly good computers, and not pay data charges for Internet access. It has a good music player, it has surprisingly good stereo speakers, it has a radio which unfortunately needs the wired hands-free plugged in, because that's the aerial. It has a proper mini-computer operating system and the advantages of that are even bigger than I had been hoping for.
I am sincerely hoping that from this point onwards, everything I notice about my phone will be either intriguing or amusing, not baffling or enraging.
Of course, I may be kidding myself there...