Bell

When my phone rings, my instant reaction is to panic. This panic becomes heightened if I’m sat down and the phone is lodged deep into my jeans pocket. The ring of a phone to me sounds more like a countdown, the everyday equivalent of a bomb going off. The only consequence is that I miss the call, and then have to call that person back. Well, when I say it so logically, what the hell am I worrying about? This is all quickly forgotten when I hear those alarm bells.

Sometimes the phone will go off, and you can hear it, but you’re not quite sure where it is. At first the search is casual, it’ll turn up, you’re thinking. Soon pillows and magazines are being thrown aside, sofa-cushions pulled out, and bookshelves overturned. By the time the device is found, you’d be forgiven for thinking I had been burgled.

Things get worse if the phone is in another room. You’re watching TV when you hear a familiar tinkle. So distant you’re not sure you even heard it. You pause Sky+ (which comes from as little as £16.50 a month, and they install it for free) and prick your ears. Yep, there it is. The insistent bell, making me react like I’m expecting a call from my wife’s kidnappers. Who knows how long it’s been ringing? There are no other options; I’m going to have to run. I bound and leap through the house like a gazelle, taking the stairs three at a time. I trip and fall, receiving a bruise that’s going to bother me for a week, but for now barely registers – I’m already on my feet again, my legs devouring the ground beneath me, silently counting the amount of rings: 16! No one calls longer than 16! I reach for the phone, and snap it to my ear, hoping to save precious milliseconds.
“Hello! Hello?”
“Hi there, sir. This is T-Mobile, would you like to take part in our survey?”