Discovering England — without a cell phone

By Jim Payne
Reader Contributor

“I’m sorry, sir, we’re fully booked,” said the smiling, white-haired woman busily tending luxuriant purple flowers in front of Wheatleys Farm B&B in Ashton Keynes, England. This was my third failure to find accommodations on the gray, blustery afternoon, and I was getting worried.

It was the first day of my hike along the Thames River. Twelve years earlier, I had kayaked this waterway from start to finish, and wrote a book about it, Discovering England. Now I’m retracing the route on foot, following the famous Thames Path.

This isn’t the only tale I’m re-enacting on this expedition, however. I’ve just published another book, Being Human Being, a novel that explores how technology — especially smartphones — might be taking away from the fullness of life. My idea is to test this idea by going without a phone and getting lodgings the old-fashioned way, by knocking on doors and asking people. So far, the results have not been encouraging.

I walked back down the High Road toward the village, passing the two older women from whom I had asked directions to Wheatleys Farm.

“They’re fully booked,” I called out to them.

“Oh, that’s too bad,” said one, who turned to her companion, asking something I didn’t hear. “Yes, maybe she does,” the other woman said. She called to a woman working in her garden at the house next door. “Pat, we’ve a question.”

Pat came over. “This gentleman is looking for lodgings, but Wheatleys is booked and he’s without a phone. What about Yvonne, her Airbnb?”

Pat frowned. “Can’t be. It’s closed this week. She’s gone to Spain.” She looked firmly at me. “You know what I’ll do? I’ll take you to the White Hart in Cricklade. They’re likely to have a place.”

I made a polite protest about not wanting to trouble her.

“No, no trouble.” Then she added, a twinkle in her eye, “It’s a chance to do my good deed for the day.”

We walked to the tiny white car in her driveway. “Now, you just sit over there” — she pointed to a chair by the garage — “while I clear the passenger seat.” This took a few minutes since the seat was piled high. Eventually, we were underway, Pat skillfully guiding the vehicle on the non-American side of the narrow lanes to Cricklade, four miles away.

“So why is it you don’t have a mobile?” she asked, using the English term for cell phone. “That’s unusual.”

“Well,” I said cautiously, “I have an idea that they might not be all that healthy for us.”

“You’re so right!” she said, thumping the steering wheel with the heel of her hand. “People are so occupied with them! They take away connection. People don’t get together anymore.” 

She shook her head. “It’s sad, really.”

“Well, er, you know,” I said with barely suppressed excitement, “I’ve just published a book about this idea. If you’ll give me your mailing address when we get to the hotel, I’ll mail you a copy when I get back to the States.”

“Oh, that would be lovely!”

After signing in at White Hart Hotel, I turned to Pat. “Thank you so, so much!” I said, giving her a big Idaho hug.

“Well, I’m just so glad it all worked out for you!” She held out her hand and gave me a firm British handshake.

Yesterday, I mailed the copy of Being Human Being to Pat, the saint I never would have met if I had taken a cell phone on my trip to England.

Jim Payne returned from his Thames adventure on June 1. His book, Being Human Being is available at Vanderford’s (321 N. Second Ave.) and The Corner Book Store (405 N. Fourth Ave.).