Two very posh girls on the train this evening, both of whom work for a publishing company.
A mobile goes off in a handbag.
"I'm ringing!" exclaims one of the ladies, as she rummages for the eau de cologne.
It's at this kind of moment when I wish my grasp of Greek rhetoric was a bit better. Metonymy, I think. The lady has substituted herself for the phone.
I was picturing her back at home, with her ready-made Tesco Finest meal pinging in the oven. "I'm done!"