Talk Telephone

Talk Telephone

When I pulled up at the traffic lights in my funny, green 2 CV, especially at pedestrian crossings, I use to pick up my phone and chat away. Ok, what’s so smart about that you may ask? Well believe me, it got people staring everytime and they were obviously puzzled. I’m sure they were asking themselves if I was I off my head and if I was how come I was allowed to drive? That’s because my phone was a black, ancient Bakerlite, the sort with the massive handset and an old-fashioned dial with holes for each letter and number which was stuck on a huge black base. You had to shove your fingers in the relevant holes (ooerrr) and turn the dial and hard luck on your fingernails. So, making sure I could be seen picking up the huge receiver, I’d dial up then natter away until the lights turned red when I'd carefully, with a goodbye, replace the receiver and drive away.

I did take it into the square in Knuttyford one day and did much the same thing only this time I had to take it out of my (big) bag and rest it on a post while I dialled.  I was walking and it was heavy. When I finished my  ‘call’ I returned the whole thing to my bag and walked on.  For the life of me I didn't dare look to see if anyone was watching. I know I would have become embarrassed and blushed for England and I didn't have an engine beneath me to make for a quick get-away.