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| Hanging (up) on the telephone... |
I am mourning the loss of the telephone box. For those old
enough to recall, they were a haven of warmth on a cold day for us ‘street’
kids who played out after school. They were perfect for the pranksters among us
who liked to dial random numbers from the phone books that hung beneath a ledge
where coins could be piled up ready to feed into the pay phone. It was a tall
order fitting everyone you hung out with inside – but we somehow managed it – and
there was always a stranger who would spoil the fun by standing outside
tut-tutting as we took advantage of the warmth, pretending to make phone calls
when we so obviously were not. Much later, I admit that I too became that shadowing
figure annoyed by the misuse of a much-loved and now much-missed little piece
of British heritage.
Nurtures conversation
But what also hit me recently was the power of the telephone
and how it encourages and nurtures conversation without structure; how it
breaks rules and breaks down boundaries. Conversation – and I mean real conversation – curves and meanders free
of any pre-planned path. It can edge into unchartered territory – liberated
by a lack of bullet-point agendas to which an email can shackle us all. No
constraints, no long electronic trail of commitment to topic. A sharing of
thoughts, experiences and snippets of life shared – and no real point to the
conversation, save the simple need for a connection with a person in real-time – their voice, tone
and lilt revealing nuances of a life that lie undetected and hidden in the
restrained formality of the written word.
Tug-of-war
Of course, as a journalist, the written word is my trade. I
glue together words, make them fit and hammer in facts and quotes, references
and opinions. Deadlines are met, articles turned around quickly and it’s a game
of tug-of-war in my head between emails and writing articles. I train my brain
to flit effortlessly between the two, mentally punching the air when the laptop
is shut down at the end of the day and I’ve an empty inbox and thousands of words
in crafted copy. And because of this, there is very often a need for speed when
connecting with people. Email ‘conversations’ come easy when sat in front of a
computer screen. Let’s face it, I am perfectly placed for them always – and in
all ways.
Keeping it real
But, for all my fondness of the written word, for all my
pouring over pun and point, for all my stressing over sentence, spelling and
syntax – and despite my craving for literary creativity – I am also rather fond
of a chat. A verbal one that has been neither edited or rewritten nor
cut to within a hair’s breadth of an expected word count.
Real contact is important and the foundation on which we
build relationships. In lieu of a face-to-face meeting, the telephone offers this.
Whilst I may marvel at Tim Berners-Lee’s worldwide web on a daily basis and
all that it has given us – good and bad – my heart still sings with joy at Alexander
Graham Bell’s amazing, all-ringing baby. This weekend, I downed tools and chose to pick up the phone instead
to discover that talk is cheap (in monetary terms) – but priceless in every other way – and discovered yet
again that happy and unexpected friendships are only ever really found inside a real-life, real-time chat.
