rescue the flat little device from its plight

 Apart from realising that yesterday's post was a part of some dream, and never took place in reality, the day starts of well with the little breakfast and the welcome from the cat. The worry over the file transfer to the cloud showed itself to be groundless too, which is a relief.

All is working well, and now it is midday. The age of this writer is now sixty eight years, more or less exactly. It would never have been considered possible forty years ago to reach this high old age. And now, being here the only thought is as to how will it go on. There is no chance for another sixty-eight years. 

No chance, none at all.

There is a siren call at eleven this morning, the sirens are being tested. The sound of the sirens is terrifying, that mournful howl sounding over the rooftops, the harbinger of disasters. There is no sound from the mobile telephone. There should be, but there is nothing to be heard. Upon reflection, understand that this is not in the least surprising, the telephone is in the car, still attached to that magnetic holder.

Leave the flat and rescue the flat little device from its plight.