2 Weekend
what’s inside
Saturday, February 19 – Sunday, February 20, 2005
Contents
SEEING STARS IN NAMIBIA
P6 & 7
It’s my life ........................3 In the news.........................4 Talking heads ....................4 The week in pictures...........4 TO CRUMBLE FOR
Past/present .......................5
P9
Close-up on Brighton ...........5 Around the world ............6 & 7 Late breaks .........................7 Reading matters.................8 Cooking in style ..................9 Drink talking......................9 Weekend walk .................10 FAR AND A WEY P10
Gardening ......................11 DIY .......................................11
GOLDEN GLORY
The vet ...............................11
P11
Cover story ..........12, 13 & 14 TV preview ......................15 Pick of the week ................15 The week’s TV .............16-23 Vanora on the box ............24
HEDY STUFF
P24 FLAMING FAREWELL
P15
the rant I CONFESS to being addicted to my mobile phone. I have a package which includes 400 text messages a month (all used up) and I’ve been known to tap away at dinner parties, in shops, airports, doctors’ surgeries, up mountains – anywhere and everywhere. If I accidentally venture out without my mobile, I feel as if my left leg has been cut off. That aside, I believe there’s no excuse for the toll SMS text messaging has taken on British literacy. We’ve bred a whole generation of teenagers who communicate in bizarre abbreviations such as “cu l8r m8” (see you later, my good friend), “ru gd 4 2moro” (are we still on for tomorrow’s fixture?) and “spk to u b4 wknd” (we shall communicate before Saturday). I dread to think what they will put on their GCSE exam papers. If the hapless youngsters are fortunate, the exam markers will mistake the relentless tide of abbreviations for algebra or hieroglyphics.
Texts have secured their own place at the root of our neuroses Adults fall flat when trying to condense their deepest inter-personal thoughts into 160 characters on a mobile phone screen, instead of putting pen to paper. I mean, whatever happened to writing a letter to one’s romantic partner or valued friend? I’d much rather receive a thoughtful, sealed-with-aloving-kiss missive on quality writing paper than a scrambled “have a mice time spk 2 un soon”, which is what tends to happen when the writer’s fingers and predictive text system
have both gone astray. Indeed, predictive text messaging (where the phone struggles to work out what you’re typing) can throw various wobblers of its own accord. If you don’t pay attention, the name “debs” turns into “fear” (ideal for causing offence to friends), while “I’m going home” can all too easily become “I’m going good”. In a discussion about “is it worth coming to the party?”, the latter could confuse the recipient into making a wasted journey,
only to find six remaining party guests sitting round a warm can of beer. Worse still, texts convey very little sentiment, which can lead to them being misunderstood. For example, a friend sent her new boyfriend a message saying she had “a lot of options”, following a conversation about job interviews. He assumed she meant rival suitors and was offended. It was the beginning of the end! This could never happen with a polite letter or phone conversation. Bearing in mind the complexities of modernday relationships, SMS messages have secured their own special place at the root of many neuroses. Is your special friend deliberately ignoring you? Did you send the message to the right person (perhaps it went to your boss instead of your lover)? Is the recipient simply too busy to reply? Are they, in fact, dead? I believe we should all consider what BT once said: “It’s good to talk”. Jo Chipchase
Is something bothering you? Then get it off your chest by emailing rant@theargus.co.uk Only contributors who include their full name and address will be considered for publication, although we shall only show an abbreviated form of the address. We reserve the right to shorten letters.
David Roper ....................24 COVER: LIZ FINLAYSON
barking
90109-5
Martin Fish