The Tale Of Dad's Phone...

My Dad is the sort of person who shouldn't have a phone. He hardly ever answers the thing and, on the odd occasion when he does, he shouts so loudly that he could probably just stand at the front door of his house and I'd be able to hear him...even though he lives a couple of miles away from me.

There was a drama today when he couldn't find his phone. Would I dial his number so he could hear it if it was in his car? I did and it wasn't there. We tried searching around my house too as he's often here to see the boys. No joy. I was convinced that it would be in his house somewhere. He asked my Mum (they've been divorced for years but live around the corner from each other) to ring his phone to see if he could hear it in his house. My Mum did this and a young man answered the phone. He'd been just setting on a walk around Rivington and had heard the phone ringing in the grass. He said he would hang around for 15 minutes until my Dad could get there to collect the phone. So my Mum went around to my Dad's...he then got to Rivington, met the young man and got his phone back. It had been there in the grass, overnight. How strange and what a happy ending!