Why Me Burt 2

Well regular readers may remember a posting by me from back in December 2019 after a visit by us to our daughter Sarah in NYC. The last time we were there in fact, from the old days when you could do crazy things like travel internationally. If you recall I’d left my mobile phone at her place and it was the usual pasta paulie horror story about delayed delivery, unnecessary spend, poor communication, surly Royal Mail staff and ultimate redemption and recompense.  The title was drawn from a phrase we coined on a Eurocamp holiday we shared, when the kids were younger, with some UK and Dutch friends in the beautiful Dordogne. Again it all sounds like a million years ago when you could do his sort of thing. Anyway we dads spent our days watching over the kids swimming in the pool whilst we played pétanque (boules?), drinking many light beers and getting gently bronzed. Ah happy days. Burt was the Dutch dad and if anything slightly unlucky happened during the game Dennis and I, the English dads, would turn to him and say ‘Why Me Burt?’ It sort of became a catch phrase (you had to be there) and I’ve often thought that it’d make a very suitable title for my yet-to-be released e-book of those many, many unfortunate and embarrassing moments that seem to pepper my life (and provide rich content for this blog). Blimey this a long intro. The point is that this is another story about mobile phone calamity; this time totally self-inflicted.

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