On line, my washing is on line, if the weather is fine,
All other on-lines I decide to decline.

I love to shop, and to the assistants talk,
Whilst pay machines make me feel quite fraught.

To a restaurant I went the other day,
With no visible assistant to pay,
Only a push-button drinks machine on display.
My coffee looked like a weak cup of tea
Which spluttered and splashed on my clothes and me.

My phone, need I say more? Press 1, 2, 3, 4.
Now throw the damn thing out of the door.
At last a foreign voice I hear.
I can't understand a word. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!

I remember phones with finger holes to dial,
You could dial any number you chose.
Now, in frustration, I stick my finger up my nose.

Bags, bags for the food store. I am prepared!
But whilst wandering around in a prestige store,
My eyes spied some underwear galore.
"Bag madam?" In anger I said "No".
No pockets, and handbag too small,
I walk around the town for all to see
What size and colour suits me.

© Doris Fenner