.......using the wrong emoji

Emojis in emails have never been a good fit - email is a word media, with attachments that might be pictures. Emojis also seem a little inappropriate in emails - "she can't be bothered to say she is happy, she has to send me a smiling face." Or maybe - "he sent me a sad-faced emoji, but is he actually sad?"

Many people send an emoji as part of a WhatsApp message, which I am quite happy with. The problem I have, shared with some celebs in the news recently, is choosing the right one. I mainly use  😀 😊😕😑, but people send me really interesting emojis. Where do they find them? Back to the theme. Maybe you have just selected the wrong one by accident or carelessness. Maybe it is just a bad choice. The reader will always think the latter.  One hundred well-crafted words could be undermined by the wrong emoji. Is it worth the risk?

🙍

......searching for something to listen to on the radio.

Yesterday I needed to take a short drive to collect an item from the supermarket. Five minutes out and everything stops. What is it? Roadworks, an accident, a diversion? No problem, I've got a reasonable sound system. Let's see what's on the radio!

Switch on, select FM, set the volume level - all from the comfort of my steering wheel.  I recognise that - Mahler's second. No, this is not a day for jumping off the bridge. I could wait and see what comes next - but for how long? Press search. Phil Collins - easy lover. This is great, it perks me up. I sing along. I am Phil Bailey. But then it finishes and there is some rap song coming out of four corners of the car. No thanks. Press search. A very serious and committed woman is telling me about teething problems with one-year-olds. She has a pleasant upper-middle-class style. Definitely a mid-thirties version of Joan Bakewell. Interesting, but this content will probably not be of any value to me - I had better move on. A discussion. What are they talking about? Brexit? No, but something about trading in Europe and Russia. Press. Sade, you have saved my life. I cannot see any diamond lights but I reckon I am a smooth operator.

The traffic moves on. 

.....looking over your shoulder

 

I cannot physically do this with any degree of comfort. Youngsters can. I think I can still look along my shoulder, although don't have many reasons to do so nowadays. I used to run a bit - a club half marathon road runner with a PB of 1 hour 19 minutes. The advice from our coach - Ron - was to always focus on the road ahead. "Never look over your shoulder because you cannot control what is happening behind you. In any case, if you do you will probably miss some crack in the pavement and trip over." Wise words, indeed.

Of course, one needs to be careful when looking at a contentious article in the Guardian or New York Times on the Internet that someone is not looking over your shoulder. You might be reported to the Literature Police and made to sit in a cell and read three editions of The National Enquirer.

It is probably a good thing, though, that stone-age people looked over their shoulders, for the continuation of the species. For that generation, the ever-present sabre-toothed tiger was a problem. However, I have seen pictures of stone-age people that suggested a very small neck - almost no neck, in fact. Therefore looking over the shoulder probably presented a few medical issues relating to the sternocleidomastoid muscle.

Have you ever worked in an organisation where you are continuously looking over your shoulder? Many people have reported that they have, particularly in the UK. Is this positive or negative? I would say the latter.

.... misplacing your favourite notebook

 

By notebook, I mean the paper version. I have got a tablet, so I could jot down my notes into a notepad application, or perhaps even my phone. I have tried it, but I am not consistent enough - maybe it is on charge, in another room, all kinds of excuses for not putting down something vital onto it at the right time. 

The paper version services me best, but then, from time to time I have no idea where I last left the favoured book. I lost it for three weeks, eventually found hidden in the laundry room, but how it got there is a complete mystery.