Telephone times

Kids today just don't know how lucky they are, carrying their own phone around in their pocket!

The late '60s saw our very own phone installed.

Dad made a telephone table, fixed to the wall in the hall:

A slim white melamine box with gold stick-on trim,

Holding the Yellow Pages, local directory, notepad and pen,

Spring-loaded black book of special numbers, with its matching dial.

In pride of place the polished ivory phone sat on top,

Each number dialed clockwise round to its stop,

Then let go to click back before dialing the next.

Its round dial centre inscribed with our home number,

Ready for us to give out with our name when it rang;

Etiquette important, we were coached on how to answer.

No chair. Calls should be short, to the point.

No more walking to the phone box on the corner,

But we didn't have money to burn.

Everyday Poetry