I'VE burbled on before about the evils of the mobile 'phone but it really can be the limit.

After a conscious decision to give up my mobile 'phone on the basis that I'd rather not be accessible when walking around Tesco choosing tea, I've had mixed feelings about it all.

On the (very delayed) train to London I was glad to be able to tell my daughter how late I was running, but mortified to discover that I was in a "Quiet" carriage where mobile 'phones were banned.

I spent the journey alternating between deep embarrassment and fear that it would ring. It did, of course.

Then, I rang a friend to ask for some information about a badminton match locally, kept him talking for 20 minutes, and then was astounded when he finished by saying "I'd love to chat more but I'm in France on the first day of my holiday."

This week, my husband has been on holiday in the sunshine (I'm about to join him, gloat, gloat) and he's got his mobile with him.

My lovely mum (86 not out) had not realised he had gone, and rang him up to ask him could he possibly fix the clock/radio/'phone in her bedroom.

"Do you think you could pop round, dear," she asked, ingenuously, "before you go on your holidays?"

She was genuinely shocked to hear him say that, sorry, it was a bit difficult that day as he was in Lanzarote. Could he call round two weeks on Tuesday?

This just underlines the whole business of always being on the end of a 'phone line, anywhere in the world.

Of course, BEN surfers may recall that some problems are much nearer home. My youngest daughter called me to ask could I take her around to a friend's house.

"And where are you?" I asked suspiciously.

"In the toilet," was the reply.