WITH THE PLETHORA OF COMMUNICATION TOOLS CONSTANTLY AT OUR FINGERTIPS, HAS IT IMPROVED THE QUALITY OF LIFE?
In my 20s, I hardly ever communicated with my brothers Tom and Gerry. I was living in Jamaica and them in London; and in those days phone calls— if you were lucky enough to have one — were expensive, unintelligible and short:
"Hello Gerry! It's me, Brian! Brian! BRI-AN! Yeah, how are you mate? Everyone here's fine. When you coming down? Bring a carburetor for the bike, brake pads for the car, magazines, records and teabags! Bye!"