Yes, please sing with me, as I mourn the inevitable parting with my old cellphone.
I got it for free in 2000 as part of a free women-getting-back-into-the-job-market course. Even then it was pre-loved, so I don't know how old it really is. But it has served me well, and for someone who only wants to call/receive calls and store telephone numbers, it was perfect. Even though it took me a few years before I learned how to receive a call.
About four years ago, I was having a wonderful Friday after-work drinkie with my friend Marj at Harry's Bar. I had the phone out because it's also as my watch. Harry's has stools for the extremely-hyper-leggy, and the two of us just about fell off when this thing made a funny noise. "Blush" doesn't cover 1% of it.
It's been dieing a slow death; the charger connection has been iffy at best and finally this week I had to coax it to connect and ever so slowly put it down so it would recharge. I liked the buttons being separate, but every time the battery died the date/time were lost.
The new Nokia was NZ$79, (A$61.34/US$39.30/£27.54/€30.87/JPY3815.49,) the cheapest in the shop. Ben had scouted around town for me earlier. It's in my favorite color, gray. It does a few more things than I asked for, but I don't need to know.
Claudia, how has an older version, said sometime hers forgets what it's supposed to remember. So I shall write down all the numbers stored for starters. I don't think I get attached to "things" much, but I get a little sentimental thinking about the time the old one stuck with me; it was after I left my last real job, and saw me through my transition to becoming a weaver, and I must have made some crucial calls on this little baby. Belatedly, I christen the old one Harry Senior, and the new one, Harry Junior.
Rest in pieces.