The Strange and Terrible Happenings in the Village

When we drove into Nairne to pick up our mail and a coconut one afternoon, it was noticeable that subtle and unpleasant changes had occurred in the township. On the surface it was just a small busy village in the Adelaide Hills. But as we sat watching the scene and thumbing through our snail mail of advertising, bills, and a wonderful real letter from Aunt Arlie, we realised that nearly all of the people walking the pavements and visiting the shops had so-called smartphones attached in one way or another to their ears. Some had headphones on, some had earbuds and some had black mechanisms like large hearing aids clamped behind their ears, and we must admit, those gadgets looked very painful. Perhaps that was why they were shouting, in what seemed to be distress.  

Those who weren't shouting to their absent besties were staring at the phones in their hands instead, and busily swiping away at them with dextrous fingers.  They were probably reading extremely important Facebook junk and tweets, or looking a pictures of themselves - equally important, no doubt.

It used to be just teenagers who had cell phones stuck in their ears, reporting to their mothers that they were indeed in the shops spending their parents' money big time, or staying overnight at Sally's house, whose real name is Jake the Junkie.  But now all their mothers, fathers, baby brothers and above average dogs are shouting into phones too, telling all and sundry that they're 'just going into the deli' or whatever. 'Who cares?' we can't help but ask.  

It's all reminiscent of the tin cans and string we used to play with when we were children. Some ‘phonies’ must have those memories too, as they haven’t quite grasped that they don’t have to shout loudly into their poofy little phonettes.  Sometimes the volume of their innermost secrets and peccadilloes can be overwhelming. Perhaps it's because the mobile is so small, they doubt its potency.  Little do they know that everybody in the post office now knows who has been doing what to whom, and how often, and what they like to wear during.  It gets hard to look people in the eye after awhile.

The mobile phone seems to have taken over completely in our small world, as we watch the populace cross the road without pausing to look at traffic, as though every call or text or tweet is imperative to their welfare, and must be assessed and answered immediately, preferably with a selfie. If they are actually chatting to real live people in the street, and the phone 'rings' (oh, what a quaint term), all real conversation must stop as they dive urgently into pocket or bag, pushing people impatiently out of the way. The summoning tone of the phone can be anything from a symphony orchestra to a jackhammer. There is only one rule - it must be loud. 

It's becoming quite obvious that the fabric of our little country society is disintegrating, and the telephone companies and ISPs are getting very rich on 'smartphones'.  We refuse to be a part of it, and are the proud possessors of a 'dumbphone' (yes, just one, which we share) that can't do anything beyond phone calls and text messages, (which we never send).  And we usually forget to bring it with us.