That's the iPhone, otherwise referred to as 'eye pee', attempting recovery in that rice-filled hyperbaric chamber I spoke of. It's been over two days and it shows no signs of life. It was therefore with a heavy heart that I went to my local O2 shop this morning and asked them whether there are any options available to me, anything other than paying £ 35 per month for the foreseeable future while not having the actual item or using the actual service I am paying for. They played the tune I knew they would play; Apple doesn't repair water-damaged eye pees because it costs them more than selling you a new one. Of course, that makes sense, but a repair would cost me less than buying a new one, wouldn't it? I left struggling to keep the latte down. One thing is to think that the new phone 'will probably cost me £ 400' and quite another one is being told that 'the new one will cost you £ 400'. Damn blast. It really brought it home I am telling you.
On the way back, however, I resolved to call my insurance broker and friend Paul, who has always advised me against purchasing further insurance of any kind (not that AppleCare would have made a difference in this instance), because I've got a comprehensive house cover, or so he tells me. Still, I was seeing doom, and even went through the disastrous mental scenario that saw me shouting down the line: 'That's it! We're over! Don't call me!'. I am smiling as I write it, as Paul greeted the re-telling of the sob-story with a: 'I bet you were ready to threaten our relationship over a phone'. And so I was, but I needen't have worried because I can get a straight replacement through the house insurance. Thank you God! And thank you Paul for having me sign good stuff I never really read! I feel a little lost without the ability to go snap happy whenever I am around, but it shouldn't be long before I am back online and able to contact everyone on the currently lost address book. Relief doesn't come close to it.