Trying to connect you

 

I cannot remember when I last used one.  And yet when I was growing up and well into my working life, they were an essential part of living. We huddled together giggling as we phoned boyfriends, with coins at the ready set out on the little shelf then hastily putting more in when the pips went. We pressed button A to get the money to fall into the collecting box or button B to get our money back.

Then another time we stood waiting in a queue willing the person in the box to hurry up as it was cold outside. They turned their back on the line of people waiting. Phone calls used to be something very special and occasional, now we take it for granted that we can speak any time day or night, and we do.

In Shropshire there are over sixty boxes which could be removed. Some have not been used in over a year. I wonder if villages and towns will adopt them. They have been part of our traditional landscape for so long that some are listed ‘buildings’ and must stay. I have seen some used as libraries, information centres and advertising. But they are a relic of the past thanks to our mobile phones.

Now even young children often have their own mobiles and the average teen spends up to five hours on their phone. There is a lot of controversy about this.

“What a waste of time.”

“Stops you thinking for yourself.”

“They will get addicted.”

It all maybe true but I heard something very similar in the early sixties when most people were getting televisions in the home. We were rationed to an hour before the usual cry from parents –

“Go outside and play”.

Televisions are now part of education in schools and I wonder if smartphones will soon be used for lessons, not least for teaching our children how to use them. We cannot go backwards; the genie is out of the bottle.

We do not even have a landline anymore and I know a lot of people in the same position, we all rely on our mobiles. It is hard to get peace and quiet away from the world.

But last night Mr T and I sat outside at the end of the day in the dwindling light. We have a little cane seat tucked away in a recess at the side of the house. It is sheltered here and we look over fields and trees. Then out of the silence we heard a sound not sure at first, until ‘Whoo hoo’ came over loud and clear, it was a male tawny owl connecting with other owls.

 (Taken from my column in the Shropshire Star)