Wednesday, 9 August 2017

After Kipling.

I just set the alarm on my little mobile phone which cost all of £15.99 from Tesco, and which I feed with about £5-a-year's worth of credits. That's because I hardly ever use it except to reply to the odd text from the one person who sends them to me.

You're supposed to feel guilty these days if your phone fits easily into the pocket of your jeans and doesn't have the power to read Facebook posts from Alpha Centauri, aren't you? Am I? A little ditty jumped onto my desk and said 'post me.' So I'll do that instead of wasting money on a megaG smart phone. I'm sure the sweet spaceship will still swing low to carry me home when it's time.

If I bought myself a smart phone
Would I be a different bloke?
Would I be somehow superior
If I learned to prod and poke?

Or would I lose the lessons
That I learn from twilight skies
And the hint of deepest meaning
In a Chinese lady’s eyes?

I suspect I’d be a martyr
To the ways of modern times
And the path laid out by robots
And the hill up which it climbs

So I think I’ll stick with wand’ring
Down the road to Mandalay
Taking refuge in my ramblings
And the view across the bay

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