Dearest *ehem* phone,

You did not just do that. You did not have the cheek to go off, thus interfering with my stereo and making it forget that it was playing a CD, right in the middle of Hatfield and the North's 'Son of 'There's No Place Like Homerton''.

Look at it! You know my stereo's a poor, senile old dear and you know that your fancy waves and signals confuse it! Now it won't recognise the CD anymore!

Go to the naughty step, you hi-tech little twerp, and take that blasted Twitter with you. You meffed up the stereo during the best song on the album, and I'll never forgive you for that.

No love,

~ Someone Who Likes Her Stereo (And Music)

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@ 03:01PM: The stereo's still dead. I've put off my work to try and resuscitate it.

@ 03:05PM: I hate to say this but perhaps a new stereo is in order. I give up.

I've got water, now, and I've had another snazzy idea. Either I get a wall-mounted stereo, or I can just make a little corner shelf where I can plonk my current one! As temperamental as my old green stereo is, it does work - occasionally - and I've had it for so long, gone through so much awesome music with it, that I couldn't bear to part with it. Everything I'm into now - Kevin Ayers, Caravan, Soft Machine, Yes - has been played through this.

Sure, it's jumpy and dusty and apparently hates Jimi Hendrix (it never plays his CDs!), but it's old and its mine and I love it. It's been to sea with my Dad and it's kept me sane in what might otherwise be moments of silence. I love you, stereo <3

P.S. My stereo's been immortalised in my Art exam final piece, anyway; the big A1 oil pastel drawing that I did for 'everyday objects'.