o, thou unholy ringtone

The other day I was drifting about our village, in full festive mood, trying to get a few little things for my family when all of a sudden, while browsing in the bookstore, my inner peace was pierced by a very loud rendition of the 007 theme that came wafting out of my handbag. You know how it starts, like a melodramatic fanfare, "DAH-DAT! DAH-DAT! DAH-DAT-TA-DAH-DAT!!"

Did I mention that it was loud?

All heads in the shop turned scornfully toward me, and I think I saw at least one lip curl upward in a sneer. All chat in the shop ceased. Two teenage shoppers, who had previously been bickering over moneys already spent on people and how each was doing the other's head in, snorted and looked at me as if I was the epitome of embarrasing 30somethings trying to make a statement about my youth. A toddler, who had been throwing the mother of all tantrums over a Dora The Explorer book paused in mid-gale.

In the best of times, I have nothing in my hands, and my handbag isn't stuffed full of little things I bought at the Ecoshop (but failed to bring a bag to put them in), and all I have to do is calmly reach in, locate the phone by it's vibration, and hit the silence switch on the side (or answer it). But this was not one of those times.

Armload of books down, handbag parked on a table, stocking stuffers cast about the floor, I rummaged for that damn Bond phone. Of course, the bloody thing is less of a brick than my older phone and for some reason it's narrower profile made it nearly impossible to lay hands on. But finally, triumphanty, I grasped it, I wrenched it out of the bag, and I held it aloft in a gesture of victory for all to see.

And then I pressed the answer button. Everyone in the shop leaned in so they could overhear what kind of conversation required such a fanfare and dramatic exhibition.

"Hello darling... yes, there are clean knickers in the hot press. No, not at all. Chicken soup alright for dinner, dear? Yes, I can get a potato or two. See you later, then, bye bye."

Oh the sheer disappointment around me. My audience rolled their eyes in exasperation at the anticlimax of it all. They made a great showing of turning their backs to me and going back to what they had been doing; browsing, chatting, buying. The cash register began cashing again. The teenagers began bickering again. The toddler began howling again.

As I gathered up my things, an elderly lady bumped me hard from behind with her shopping bag, and as I tripped forward a mother ran over my foot as she navigated past driving her enormous running pram (the ones with the big, nobby wheels that should require an operating license). The lady at the register failed to discount me the sale price of the books I bought.

Based on this event, I have decided it would be preferable to teach my phone to sing something else when someone calls. Something fun, somehting clever, and it can be obnoxious, but perhaps a little more appropriate to my personality, like an old-timey naughty ditty or something. Any suggestions? (Any suggestions refering to the Crazy Frog will be scornfully admonished)


Oh, and Happy Solstice, everyone! We're sailing again into brighter days!