‘Victorian Titanic’ fell foul of the same failing – human error

Natalie Facetimed me the other day. No warning. Out of the blue.

Up to now, when I’ve been Facetimed, it’s been after a few to-ings and fro-ings so that I can get lipstick on or shift something inappropriate off the desk. We will not discuss the inappropriate items that might find their way on to my desk, but mostly they’re calorific and shameful.

In this particular instance, however, I was nowhere near my desk. I was in fact halfway across Leeson Street Bridge, admiring the ivy coating the big building that sits on the bridge, that ivy having turned the deepest russet in response to it being autumn. The phone went and when I glanced at it to check the identity of the caller, there was Natalie, beaming up at me in the happy confidence that she was making my day. This view was not shared by the drivers who nearly ran me down when I went into stasis in the middle of the road. I scurried to the median and couldn’t even give the finger and yell “Get over yourselves” after the beeping hordes because wouldn’t Natalie have seen me on my phone and heard me? (Not that I ever would, you understand. We are speaking hypothetically, here.)