Davy? Chill...

On Friday I try to get hold of my future-ex-wife (telephonically that is, the death-grip days are over.) The idea is that I drive over to see the kids, and I want to make sure that they'd be in, because it's over an hour away. Anyway, I call the house phone - no reply. Her mobile - no reply. My daughter's mobile - no reply. My younger son's mobile - no reply. My older son's mobile - I bet you've guessed that one already. No? No reply.

Now in the years B.C. (Before Cellphones) I'd have thought "They must be out. I'll call later." But no, these days I'm used to talking to people when I want to talk to people. I get irritable. I try them all again. No reply. I fly into a rage. I phone them all again leaving increasingly frenzied messages. By the time I get to Matt's voicemail for the third time I'm shrieking "What's the fucking point of having a mobile phone, if you don't take it with you and keep it turned on, you stupid little bastard?! And I'm not your father. And we adopted you! From the leper colony! And you're a crap guitar player! AAAAARRGGH!"

And so on.

Then I calm down.

Then I start to worry. I know that my future-ex-father-in-law is staying with them at the moment, and I know he has heart trouble. The only scenario that makes sense to me by now is that he's had a heart attack and they're all down at Intensive Care with their phones turned off in case they interfere with the equipment. Either that or a plane has crashed on the house and my family's mobiles are ringing plaintively amidst the lifejackets, pieces of people and little tinfoil containers.

I decide to face down my demons and go over there. I'm ready for the worst. Then my phone rings. It's my F.E.W. She and my daughter were at the gym. My younger son's on the way back from Prague (I'd forgotten about that one.) My older son had a real good night out and is still asleep.

I decide I need to change my medication.