Friday 21 January 2022

Micro-blogging: telephones

When we were at secondary school, BrotherBear and I both went to school by train. To different towns. In opposite directions. GrannyBear dealt with this in the mornings by simply dropping us both at the station in time for the earliest journey. In the afternoon/evening, we might miss the train, or there'd be a delay, or one of us had an afterschool activity, so the exact time at which we'd reappear at the station was unknown. The station was well-equipped with telephone boxes (invariably reeking of stale urine), but every phone call, no matter the duration, cost the princely sum of ten pence. But, if one inserted one's coin, rang a number, and it wasn't answered, one's ten pence piece was returned. So, we used to do that, and hang up after exactly three rings. GrannyBear would hear the phone ring three times, and come to the station to collect an unspecified member of the family. Strangely, this system worked remarkably well.

This week, I collected LittleBear from afterschool football. My mobile rang, but I didn't hear it. My friend's mobile rang, and she answered. Another mum was running late, and needed someone to prevent her 9-year old escaping unaccompanied. I scampered down the school drive to retrieve the already-escaped 9-year old, and friend retrieved her own boy and LittleBear. We all convened at the end of the school drive and waited until late-mum arrived, and all was well.

The world has changed a great deal, and while it's possible to bemoan the degree to which we're all tethered to our mobiles, the ability to retrieve small people from school is definitely a lot easier than it used to be.


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