Mobile phones (or to visitors to these shores 'cell phones') - Tag line: Have made talking into a dictaphone in public look normal since... well whenever mobile phones became popular.
Unless, of course, someone hears what you're saying.
And the great thing is, if you meet somone you know and they ask you who you were talking to (well if you're me that is) you can say with complete sincerity, "Walter." And if they want to know more, "Oh we don't talk about Walter."
A word of advice for you this delightfully, productive Wednesday - buy a Dictaphone.
While scribbling notes in the dark (too lazy to get out of bed and switch on the light) I thought, I need a machine that records your voice so I could jot this down and know it'll be readable (in a way) in the morning. Boy, but I wish they'd invent something. Doh! In my defence it was the middle of the night and I was a little bit unnerved by the dream I'd just had.
Okay, a lot unnerved. Why didn't I switch on the light? Because I wanted to stay huddled under the duvet. Things could have been watching me and I couldn't let them know that I knew they were there.
Anyhow, come the light of day, I declared I was going to buy a Dictaphone.
Most wonderful purchase ever.
Bought the Dictaphone on Monday - Monday night I rambled at it - Tuesday afternoon I typed up 1339 words of 'Broken Spokes of an Umbrella Sky' - very, very rough draft, but it exists and it wouldn't have done if not for the rambling. It doesn't end there.
Tuesday night I rambled at the machine - lets call him Walter - and this afternoon I typed up 2601 words of an as yet untitled project. How lazy am I? I didn't take time out to come up with a title. Unless my title was yawn - oh, and I yawn alot.
In contrast. I scribbled some notes into a book last week - I have 223 words of an as yet uncompleted draft and haven't a clue where I'm going with it. Dictaphone, I am sold. Seriously, go out and buy one. Unless of course, you're already prolific, then please don't--you'll make me look bad.
And in other news, you may have noticed the pretty picture above - if you head over to
Barry Napier's blog, you'll find a little contest with some awesome prizes (I want) for his book 'A Mouth for Picket Fences'. Go enter, or better yet,
buy a copy (that way you're guaranteed to win).
*Goodness, but the blog title sounds dirty.
Yep, I can relate. Except that I haven't named my dictaphone yet. Maybe I should call it Satan...
That's freaky, because I thought of your poor unnamed dictaphone when I was typing the blog post and I thought 'Stan' without the extra a. Either way, he is now officially named.
'We Don't Talk About Walter' would make a good title. :)
And then comes the day you meet Walter and he gives you his mobile number ...
You know, it's never occurred to me to do this with my 'phone. That's actually pretty brilliant.
You're right, Kate
If I thought of it, it's bound to be brilliant, Simon
It's made talking to *myself* on the street easier too. No tape recorder required.
I followed your example and got me one of them there gadgets, keeping it my shirt pocket while I'm driving and jabbering all the way to work. I might name mine BlueTeeth.
I suspected as much, Anthony
Good to know, Milo