SMALL DILEMMAS

Modern life does tend to give us one or two small dilemmas which can confuse and befuddle the unwary. Like whether you really need to constantly thank people for retweets and just add to the pointless blather flying around in cyberspace; or whether free one month trials will inevitably lead to contracts you don’t want; or how to politely put an end to a cold call; or whether you’ve filled in your online car tax application correctly; or why money spent on downloads doesn’t feel as “real” in quite the same way as cold hard cash does.

Another tricky little problem unfolded for me when I got a little disorientated a few weeks ago, when I was heading over to Warrington for a regular appointment. I’ve got the route pretty much sorted now after the five or six months that I’ve been driving over there, but that’s only if I’m setting off from the point that I usually am. This time I was had Salford as my start point and I wasn’t quite sure how Salford arranged itself into the great jigsaw within the Manchester ring road, and so I got out my old A-Z and had a quick look.

All well and good, although I’m sure that the more hi-tech gizmo oriented of you are already whispering “sat-nav” under your collective breaths and wondering how on earth I survive this life with such an old-fashioned, lo-tech default position.

Well, the point is that, despite being published in an era when MediaCity was still a pipe dream, the planet hasn’t shifted around all that much in the intervening decade and I was quite able to work out how everything joined up by using the information inside it.

But, thanks for your concern.

Anyway, all of that’s not very relevant to our little dilemma.

The point is that the A-Z in question had been hanging around in the glove compartments and door storage bins of various vehicles I’ve had during all of those years and hadn’t really had that much attention, if I’m being honest with you, because I don’t get out much.

When I idly flipped through it, I found an old “Post-It” note affixed to the corner of one of the pages bearing an address and telephone number but no name, which, presumably, had once been a rather vital element of a journey I once made. Now, when I checked later, I didn’t seem to have those details in my address book and I don’t have much of a clue as to quite whose details they might be, or if they even refer to a person, a business or just an appointment for a job interview or something that I once may have had.

So the question is… Given that at least a decade has gone by and other people’s lives, at least, do tend to move on, are these details likely to be current…? And, furthermore, assuming that the number belongs to an actual person, are these the long-lost details of someone I regret losing touch with, or are they a way of renewing contact with someone who’d rather forget that I even walk upon the same planet as them…?

In the end the dilemma is…

Do I dial those eleven digits and risk opening up a whole can of worms…?

Or do I leave well alone, close the book and forget all about it again…?