Call me old-fashioned but I’ve no call for a mobile

As the “smombies” hirple about the streets of Britain, “phubbing” each other and whatnot, Rab remains firm in his belief that the mobile phone (and TV licence) are not necessary

One of the many benefits of my location on Skye at the moment is that there is no mobile phone coverage.

I can get it if I go down to Sabhal Mòr Ostaig, the Gaelic college, or up to Portree, but I choose not to. It’s a kind of freedom, though only a limited one for me, as I hardly ever have a need or desire to use my mobile phone. I don’t know what people do on them. Play games, I guess.

Some people even speak on them. There’s a man who runs a stall in our mall and he’s never off his portable phone. And I mean: never.

You can go in at any time of day, and there he is: yak, yak, yak. Seriously: how is that even possible? Who is he talking to? What is he saying?

I’ve tried asking the police to intervene but they say it’s none of their business. Typical. No need to tell me to “move on” so brusquely, either.

I don’t even know why I have a mobile phone. Even when writing serious work for newspapers that requires some confabbing beforehand, it’s usually done by email, which I pick up on my computer, like a normal person.

If you do not have a computer, I recommend them. They are quite handy. Unlike mobile phones.

When I was a serious news reporter, I’d meet friends for coffee. Maybe they were library assistants or nursery workers, maybe even retired. And they’d be on their phones the whole time, whereas I never touched mine. Anybody observing would think I was the nursery worker and they the frantic journalist.

My friends are mostly nice and polite, but quite often I would find myself “phubbed” by them. Phubbing is a term that combines “phoning” and “snubbing”.

Another new term is “smombies” for smartphone zombies, those folk you find hirpling along the street with their heids doon, looking at their phones.

It’s a real problem. If you’re a motorist, you’ve almost certainly tried turning into an opening only to find a smombie ambling across obliviously.

They’re also a nuisance to normal pedestrians. In some parts of China, the authorities have created phone lanes. In Germany, they’ve put traffic lights at ground level, in Austria padding around lampposts into which the smombies are prone to blunder.

Again, I don’t know what they’re checking. Is it emails? I read somewhere recently that even emails are passé now – replaced by texting, I guess – but a report in The Courier this week suggested that almost half of Scots will check their work emails on Christmas Day.

Whenever I leave Skye, I stop somewhere on the mainland and check my phone but there are never any messages on it. Actually, I should have said “used to stop somewhere”, as I don’t even bother now and just wait until I get home several hours later.

I could probably get rid of my mobile phone, as I should my TV licence (since the only thing I watch is Match of the Day), but it could be handy in the car or on the suburban hill for emergencies (the phone, not the TV licence).

For the time being, though, the mobile is switched off, which is the best way for it to be switched.

Picture: Getty Images. What’s wrong with this picture? Friends “phubbing” each other.