Living with a man with no mobile

MANY have pointed out that it’s all very well for Simon Cowell to rave about the benefits of giving up his mobile phone because he has people who are paid to sort things out for him. Ordinary people do not have that luxury so they must remain attached to their phone at all times.

This is not true. I say this through gritted teeth because one’s husband – who does not have people paid to do things for him – has never and will never carry a mobile phone.

He affects wilful ignorance of all things mobile. If I’m driving and my phone rings I will ask him to answer it for me. No matter how many times I’ve explained to him how you “answer” a mobile phone he examines it as though it is some strange artefact the like of which he has never seen before, holding it gingerly in case it explodes. He greets the bleeps and dings my phone makes as texts and tweets and emails arrive as though they are impudent intrusions, designed expressly to cause him pain.

Depending on my mood I either find his mobilelessness infuriating or bizarrely admirable. On the plus side he has never taken a selfie, never walked into a lamp-post while texting, never discussed his medical history for the benefit of an entire train carriage.

On the downside if I want him to pick up a packet of petit pois on the way home then I can whistle.

His comings and goings are always a surprise. Heaven knows what he does all day. He is as elusive as the Scarlet Pimpernel.