the phones

Our landline phones were as old as the hills, and ran out of charge after about 20 mins. I can talk for much longer than that. I went to Tesco on Saturday and bought phones and wine when I should have been buying kitchen scales and ingredients for birthday chocolate cake.

These phones are fancy, as well as being half price. I plugged them in to charge. I took the SIM out of my mobile and all the numbers were copied to the new handsets. We can have different ringtones on each handset. We can have different ring tones for different callers.  We can text from the landline. Girl1 was able to programme the handset better than Spurs Fan.

You’ve probably been able to do all this for years. I’m not up to date with the technology. It wasn’t always so.

Some families have a houseload of electricians, bakers or shipbuilders. We had the phones. At one point it seemed that everyone we knew in my parents generation worked for Post Office Telephones (which became British Telecoms/BT). My father, mother, grandfather, at least 3 uncles, an aunt, assorted more distant relations and many of the car loving friends all worked there. They were the security at the gate, the engineers and the telephonists. They drove vans, climbed poles and connected callers- while watching out for the red light indicating a 999 call.

We always had a phone in the house. A dial phone, replaced by a push button model. Two phones. Then a phone in the kitchen as well. (Impressive, eh?).

Granda died. One of the uncles died. My dad died. My mum, uncles and aunt retired early or took redundancy. The friends and more distant relations have left too. None of my generation work there. We don’t have a ‘family business’ any more. I’m not, even by association or a stretch of the imagination, up to speed with communication technology.

But Girl1 was able to bring a 1950s dial model into school for history one day…

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6 thoughts on “the phones”

    1. Ah Mise, I’m sorry to have missed you. I must have been trying to figure out blogtopia and being a yummy mummy. Or maybe drinking some of that wine…

      It’s not like you to not say your piece- are you feeling ok?

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