Carlisle life

Downtown Carlisle, red traffic light; I’m waiting confidently behind  the cyclists’ advance stop line ahead of a queue of grumbling cars.

An old man strolls across the road, mobile phone pressed to his ear.

“Yes, darling. Goodbye – I love you.” How sweet, I think.
 He switches the phone off ,  puts it in his pocket,  grins at me and mutters “******* phones” .
(At least, I think he remembered to switch it off.)