Brief waffle.

So I’m moving back home to the UK for the time being next week.

I’m looking at a dual-SIM phone so I can juggle my +61 and +44 numbers. This means I’ll be removing the iPhone (and 3G access) from my arsenal, for the time being.

What does this mean, you ask? Hell, it means I lose my ability to waste time on here, Facebook, and the Internet in general whilst on the go.

Although, more importantly - I lose my ability to pull a dictaphone out of my pocket on a whim when I need a good old fashioned ‘externalisation’ session. (Read as: Mutter on to myself about some witty/cynical/deep topic[s].)

((Yes, I also lose easy access to a camera but I have my Nikon for that shite if I get desperate.))

So now I’m looking at dictaphones. I feel like I’m regressing technologically. Then I realise I’m also playing into my old habits of carrying various ‘trinkets’ around with myself. Before I leave the house, on any occasion, I perform what I’ve dubbed the ‘Pocket Macarena’ . Thankfully, it looks about as ridiculous as the dance associated with that particular 90’s “hit” from an observer’s point of view.

Tapping out once again. Cheerio.

I have neglected Tumblr the past few days.

I’m a fucking criminal. But I got to cuddle one of my cousins today, on another note. /softtouch /fag /fag /broodysteve (I use ‘fag’ in the loveliest fashion possible, bee-tee-dubya.)

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