Living in the Future

I got my first-ever mobile phone the other week.  It was a moment of great excitement.  After all, I grew up in the 1970s, when the nearest thing to the mobile was the walkie-talkie, as sported by Bodie and Doyle, TV's ' The Professionals'.  In 1977 these bulky, crackling devices seemed like the last word in space-age gadgetry- but really, walkie-talkies were a bit useless, weren't they?  For a start, Bodie and Doyle could only use them to talk to each other (and to some guy called 'Roger', and very occasionally, to the Third Professional, the stern old Scotsman in the suit and tie who never came out of his office), so walkie-talkies were pretty useless for everyday needs such as ordering pizzas.  In fact the only conversations for which they came in handy at all were urgent, shouted ones held while jumping in and out of brown Ford Granadas, or chasing armed villains up ladders.

Which aren't the sort of conversations I have very often.  So I never really saw the need for a walkie-talkie in 1977, and I never saw the need for a mobile phone in 1989, when they were the size of televisions, cost £1000 each, and were only owned by braying yuppies in candy-stripe shirts.  Until suddenly everyone had one- so I took a perverse pleasure in being different. 'Oh I don't need one of those new-fangled devices', I would say.  'If I need to make a call I'll use a phone box'. 

Which was all very well when there was a phone box on every corner, and calls cost 2p for half an hour.  Nowadays it's 30p for fifteen minutes- unless, of course, you've run out of change, in which case it's a pound for as long as you want- or unless you're calling a mobile phone, in which case it's £4.50 for fifteen seconds, and you'll only get through to the voicemail anyway, because just becuase everybody has a mobile it doesn't mean anyone is going to answer the damn things, and you will just have to call again in ten minutes time and put in another fiver, or leave a message and stand around in a dank telephone box waiting for them to call you back.

So the whole Living in the 20th Century thing was getting just a bit inconvenient, and very damn expensive.  The last straw was just before Christmas when I had to go into town to get the Fiat Punto fixed.  The bill for the day came to £149.50- £20 for a new windscreen motor, £40 for labour, and £89.50, spent entirely in 50p pieces, on telephone calls back home.  The time had come to take drastic action. 

So of course I did nothing whatsoever.  But then one day about three weeks ago Charlotte came in with a shiny package, containing a tiny, and very basic, Nokia device.  I was being dragged, kicking and screaming, into the 21st Century, whether I liked it or not.

But you know what?  I'm not minding it at all, this Living In The Future lark.  All right, so I happened to be holding the Nokia in my hand showing it off to my work colleagues when it rang for the first time, causing me to shout out 'what the f*ck is that?' and throw it five foot in the air and narrowly miss ending its life prematurely in a styrofoam cup of coffee.  And I didn't quite get the hang of text messaging at first- I had to call the Virgin helpline, where a very patient young man explained the reason I was 'getting more letters than I'm typing in here' was because of something called 'predictive text'.  And OK, I didn't know how to do punctuation at first- and couldn't get used to the need for brevity- so my first few text messages came out as free-form, stream-of-consciousness riffs that would have been rejected by Jack Kerouac's publishers as being rambling and lacking in structure.   But -apart from these minor mishaps- I think I have taken to the world of 21st Century communications like a fish to water.

All of which makes me feel a little guilty for leaving behind the 20th Century without so much as a backward glance.  So, as a tribute to that century, and as a useful source of information to any of you poor buggers still stuck in it, desperately searching in your pockets for your last 50p piece, I hereby present a special event....

The Crinklybee Guide to Manchester's Top Five Telephone Boxes. 

I know, it's very exciting indeed.  It will start tomorrow, or maybe the next day.  We might do all five at once, or we might count down one at a time on separate days, if I think you can stand the tension.  Hell, there might even be photographs, although I'm not promising anything.  And listen- if you have any suggestions for the top Five (based on such grounds as aesthetic appeal, sound quality, ambience, and acceptance of those tiny little five p peices) email them to the usual address and they will be given due consideration, before being discarded in favour of the five I've already got in my head.  Come back soon, now....

Comments

[Ben]

Hurrah! Welcome to the 21st century! And all rather well-timed, too - have you seen my email about being in Manchester this very weekend? Would be great to meet up if I get the opportunity and you're around. You've got my number so I await a text message that reads like a paragraph from 'On The Road'...

[looby]

Great idea about the guide! Phone boxes used to accept 2ps when I started using them.

I'm not a great fan of mobiles myself. I had one for a few months but gave it away for recycling, after people found I responded insufficiently quickly, but you're right - phone kiosks are now priced on the assumption that you're going to make a two hour phone call to Mum in Burnley, rather than a few quick calls to check things with the garage or the girlfriend.

[Zinnia Cyclamen]

That's a funny post Mr Crinklybee. I too resisted until my clients changed from saying 'have you got a mobile?' to 'what's your mobile number?', at which point I thought I'd better get one. And I love mine, too, now. Except when I get random calls from drunk strangers misdialling at 3 am.

[jonathan]

That's exactly what happened to me, Zinnia! (except for 'clients', read 'people I was arranging to meet down the pub'- Ben in the comment box up there was in fact one of them...).

Hey I'm not kidding about this top 5 phone boxes thing, either. I've just spent my lunch hour taking pictures of Manchester telephone boxes, and then scoring them on a scrap of paper according to a complex rating system of my own invention. It's looking a very close-run thing, I can tell you.

I know, the tennsion is killing me, as well. Tune in next week for the full results, all in one go cos I think that's the best way (and yes, I know I said by today but you should all know by now that round here 'the day after tomorrow' means 'next week if you're lucky'. But it will be worth waiting for- and hey- you still have time to nominate your own favourite kiosks....

Oh, and finally- I haven't forgotten about those indiepop singles either. I think we are up to 20 or so out of our thirty- the rundown will continue to its conclusion, I should think the week after next. There's some more Tracy Ullman in there, if I am not mistaken...

Right then- one more hour of work to go and then it's the weekend- one last push and we can do this, folks....

[abby]

I am one of the few people still convinced that mobile phones make your brain feel like it is being microwaved, and I am sticking to my luddite cellphoneless stance and huffing and puffing about those people that talk on the phone on trains and in cafes and the like. This, while breathing in black diesel fumes from New York's nasty delivery trucks and handling the anthrax- and scarlet-fever-infested phone receivers of the city's many scrofulous phone boxes. And -- I know this is absolutely contemptible -- sometimes borrowing other people's cellphones after acting all haughty and above it all. I await your Manchester guide with bated breath -- what are the selection criteria?

[jonathan]

I thought no-one would ever ask! Well, let's see now- I'll just consult this scrap of scribbled-upon paper which has been languishing in my parka coat pocket since Friday lunchtime. Ah yes, I remember. Kiosks are to be awarded total marks out of 20, with 5 from each of the following criteria:

form
function
ambience
economy

Any city-centre public telephonicular facility accepting coinage qualifies for consideration for the shortlist, which so far comprises:

The phone attached to the wall in the downstairs Cornerhouse bar

The one upstairs in Piccaddilly Station by Yates Wine Lodge

The one inside Royal Exchange

The one along from the ticket office in Deansgate Station

and of course....

the line of old-fashioned red ones in front of Central Library.

That's five so far- but I am sure to have missed out some splendid examples of 20th century street chic... so if anyone would like to make a late plea on behalf of their own favourite kiosk, please do so- I will be taking my camera to work tomorrow just in case! Full results tomorrow, or at very latest Wednesday.

Eeeh, it's like Eurovision or something, this, isn't it?? (except of course without any of that pesky need for diplomacy, as I will be doing all the judging myself..)