Doudous

We popped into Montpellier this morning to get a couple of things and couldn't resist lunch at Entrecôte. The best steak and chips joint in the world, 'cos we've got simple tastes. By the way, I found the recipe for the sauce. It's the one with anchovies in it.

Anyway, as I'm sitting there on the tram on the way there it dawned on me that lots and lots of people were carrying phones or maybe music players in their hands. I only really noticed this because I hate carrying anything. If it doesn't go in my pocket, or Jan's bag, then it doesn't travel. But not only were they carrying these things but they were cradling them lovingly. Looking at them every two minutes. Waiting impatiently for someone to call them on their bright new shiny toy. Are these the new dummies for the masses? Their doudous.

How did these people cope before their shiny toys were invented? Maybe they were all in lunatic asylums? Looking at their hands and rocking rhythmically in the corner.

When I worked for a living (you never worked for a living - Ed) I used to carry a bloody great briefcase with everything in it. I could manage a nuclear winter with the contents of this thing. One day my boss's boss walked in with his hands in his pocket and when he needed to write something he took an old envelope out of his inside pocket.

It was my eureka moment, from that moment on I never carried my briefcase again.

I got rid of my doudou and have been doudouless ever since!