Celebrating the best of all things Yorkshire

I WENT out the other day without my phone and had a panic attack.

It was only a short trip into the village to buy the morning newspapers and call in and see Stan the Garageman.

My car has a Bluetooth connection and halfway down the road I noticed I was incommunicado because my smartphone failed to show on the electronic dashboard display. I had left it charging in the dining room. Oo-er, mother. I was overcome with unease and actually considered turning round the car and going home to pick up a piece of equipment I only use for ordering a takeaway curry.

What if the car broke down? What if I broke down? What if I had an accident or a heart attack or fell over and broke my leg whilst walking from the car park to the Co-op?

The fears were irrational nonsense but they still briefly swept over me until I told myself to get a grip and not be stupid. I had lived most of my life without a phone. They were only invented a few decades ago.

I had driven the length and breadth of Europe without benefit of satellite communication, cruised the West Coast of America, explored the Everglades of Florida and negotiated the Rockies without a mobile device.

I had navigated dirt tracks through the African bush without the security of a compact Nokia in my pocket. So why should I worry about driving through the Holme Valley?

It’s because a mobile phone has become a comfort blanket, an extra layer of insurance to keep alongside your RAC membership. Except if you leave it at home you are unable to phone the RAC to come and help.

For others, a phone is as essential as playing Candy Crush at the bus stop, Tweeting or checking who has been doing what and with whom on Facebook and Instagram.

I rarely make calls and hardly ever receive them on my mobile and yet I experienced a sense of loss and vulnerability without one.

Mine is carried because it has a camera and “just in case”.

I hadn’t realised that “just in case” clause meant so much.