Today, it is humiliation. Mine.

My Galaxy Note phone went wrong, so I took it to Tesco’s. Sorry, they said, it has to be returned to our repair department – did you know that Tesco’s repair all the phones? No, neither did I. Anyway, I bought a cheap throw away one for £9, transferred the sim card across, and waited for the return of the repaired one.

It arrived yesterday.

I attempted to place the sim card in the repaired one. The sim card fell apart into two pieces. I attempted to put the battery back in place. It wouldn’t fit. I attempted to put the sim card back just so I could use it. The phone would not turn on.

I gave up, and wife asked me what precisely was wrong. I told her, and this morning after breakfast I was going to Tesco’s for their assistance. Wife said ‘hang on, perhaps I can help.’

Epsom grandstand. I start from the roadway on the other sideFive minutes later, she had turned on the cheap phone – correctly. I had been pressing the wrong button. It works fine.

She took the battery in right hand, mended phone in left. Looked at where the little metal bits were supposed to join, placed battery in phone. It works fine.

Humiliation in our household, marginally better than public mocking in Tesco’s.

I am not to be trusted with phones.

Then it comes to Satnav. I bought one two years ago, it should have been expensive, but I took advice on which model to buy, so paid less than half price on the internet for s state of the art model.

I think my satnav looks like thisIt updates all the latest roads in sixteen European countries, very handy if I want to find a public lavatory in Latvia, or a post office in Lithuania. It has its own slide in pen to scroll in the requests, buttons to push, and I am assured it also has a digital radio. Good for Rumanian traffic reports. As long as they are in English.

I managed to programme in a journey from one location to home, just as an experiment to see if it worked, but it doesn’t seem to want to be helpful when I want to start at any other point. That means that all my journeys now start by the bandstand at Epsom Downs racecourse. I have to drive there, and then follow the instructions so I can get home again safely.

The other alternative is to use Pamnav. No, it’s not possible to buy a model, it’s very expensive to run, and you have to speak slowly to it. The Pamnav works like this.

I say to my wife Pam that we are going on a drive, and I want to know directions. She looks them up on the map, likely using Google Earth. That’s pretty good, as you see a photo of where you are going to end up.

my sim card is the same shape, but the middle isn't connectedPamnav way, you don’t end up driving down an un-navigable river. Behind an articulated lorry from Poland. Or Lithuania, Or Rumania.


Harry is a sight-seeing guide www.harrythewalker

Buy one of his books on Kindly or Kobo just enter Harry Pope and they’ll all come up.

Or ask him to talk at your club or society


About Harry Pope

Very few writers earn more than £10,000 annually. Harry is one of the poorer ones. He is no longer middle-aged, as he knows no-one who is getting on for 140. Literary success has come with an attempt at maturity – failed both – but marital stability with Pam has more than compensated. He is an accomplished speaker, talking on a variety of topics, including how not to run a hotel, buried secrets, and what’s it worth. See Harry The Talker. He has five published books, see Harry The Writer. He is Eastbourne’s only licensed sight-seeing guide see Harry The Walker. He has a daily blog see Harry The Blogger. The only site not purchased is but that might come, who knows. He was a London funeral director for many years, then started Cheam Limousines in 1990, selling some thirteen years later. Arriving in Eastbourne in the Summer of 2003, Harry and Pam first bought a small guest house, then a large hotel, which proved to be disastrous because of their business partnership with a moron from California. He now walks, and talks, sometimes both at the same time.