Once again life and literature have co-incided.
Let’s start with life.
A couple of evenings ago, in the gloaming, I was walking through the Bordeleau Park near our house (I pronounce this as “Bordello” but this is apparently not correct). I came across two young people sitting very close together on a bench. As I approached I realised that the girl was pretty and there was a boy sitting by her. Each was ignoring the other and busily typing on some form of mobile device: presumably sending text messages to each other. This is not what we used to get up to on park benches when I was a boy but one must, I assume, keep up with changing times.
And now literature.
Earlier this year I paid a flying visit to the UK and, on my way back through Heathrow, I bought a copy of Private Eye: the issue for 5th-18th March 2010. This turned up in a pile of paper yesterday and I was thumbing through it and came across a joke on page 4. It shews a man and woman in bed together, each holding a portable (and unattached) device and busily typing text messages.