The power of the telephone

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.