I GOT a new phone this week. One of those touch pad mobiles where you slide your finger over the screen and everything changes. Not that I understood how it worked.

It came in the mail after I ordered it from the Vodafone internet site. I paid cash so I could stay Pay As You Go rather than take out a contract for two years.

I mean, why would I want a contract for two years at my time of life? Besides, I had £14 worth of credit on my old one to transfer.

My old one had been an all-singing and all-dancing item when I chose it six years ago but it proved so complex I never did understand how the video bit worked or learn how to send texts.

I took some photographs once but never saw them again. They may still be lost in space, for all I know.

I never attempted texting because, on older phones with tiny keyboards, it demanded incredible digital dexterity and an ability to learn Morse code. At least that’s what it seemed because each key represented not only numbers but three letters, as well.

Press twice for h, twice for e, three times twice for l and three times for o and you ended up with ‘hello’ and a sore finger.

Achieving one word was a taxing parlour game but to achieve a full message and, back in the Second World War, you would have been recruited to Bletchley Park to codebreak.

Which is why texting has always been an enigma to me.

One reason I chose the new phone was because it had a four inch screen that provides a full keyboard and separate key for numbers. Bliss. With this freedom of expression I may now take Twitter by storm.

“Went to the pub. Had a laugh.”

“Came home. Had a vindaloo. Went to bed.”

I mean, who could resist such pertinent prose that encompasses alcohol, humour, exotic dining and the possibility of regular visits to the loo?

But when the phone arrived I was confused. In fact, I felt my age – something I never usually contemplate – as I always remember Roger Daltrey fronting The Who and snarling: “I hope I die before I get old.”

Daltrey is now 68 and appears to have changed his mind. I know I have.

So I produced my shiny new technical toy at the bar that evening and looked for help.

“Don’t ask me,” said Hobby. “I just use one. I know nowt about how they work.”

Barrie and Karen were more helpful and we stood around comparing implements, in a manner of speaking.

“You need to play with it for a few weeks before you get the hang of it,” said Barrie, a statement to which there was no answer.

I remained confused, but the next morning, everything on the phone that should work, actually worked. Perhaps it was a time lapse thing before networks were activated.

Now I’m thrilled to bits with my new phone and can’t wait for someone to call me or send me a text so that I can respond. Trouble is, I’ve never been a real mobile phone user before and friends and relatives have known not to bother calling because I’ve never had it switched on.

So here I sit, phone at the ready, in the growing silence.

Come on, someone. Call.