Just a phonebox

1. PAUL WOOD

Just a Phonebox

Copyright © 2024 by Paul Wood

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Contents Just a Phone box by Paul Wood.

Just a Phone box by Paul Wood.

It gets harder the older you get. I’m nearly a hundred years oldnow and still standing battling the elements, the rain forever

lashing down; the wind blowing leaves in their autumn dance. In the winter I’m so cold, the frost cracks my red peeling paint

and freezes in intricate patterns on the window panes. Its the

summer i love, when you can sometimes see couples, as they stroll through the warm barmy evenings, the sweet taste of

passion and promise on their lips

But i shouldn’t complain, I’ve had my time, my moment in the sun so to speak. I was the height of fashion in my day, a

design to inspire and be unique. Now the weeds grow up around my crumbling facade and my flaking skin. But still i remain, a forgotten relic in a unbeatable wave after wave of technology advances.

As i enter my twilight years it all comes flooding back to me, the joy of communication between two beating hearts of youthful desire. Looking back how it seems only yesterday i meet

Johnny and Winnie. I can see the pair of them crashing through my door, giggling with laughter, their zest for life infectious.

‘‘That was a close one Winnie. Storm came out of nowhere, if you hadn’t spotted this we be soaked,’ the Johnny said, and just

as predicted the heavens opened. For a moment they stopped and looked at each other as they listened to the pitter patter of raindrops hitting the roof.

‘Actually its quite cozy in here’ he said putting his arm around her shoulder.

‘There be no funny business buster, or your have my dad after you.’she said pushing him away.

‘Perhaps you can go and ring him let him know your in good hands,’ he said gesturing to the Bakelite black phone.

‘‘We’re not the royal family you know and mum said she'd never have a phone, can’t see the appeal. Whats wrong with good

old fasioned written letters. She’s got all my Dads love letters from the trenches in the Somme, mum says you almost taste the mud and desperation.’’

Listening intently Johnny replied, ‘Thank God he made it home, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.’’

Winnie giggled, going red withembarrassment.

Leaning closer he whispered, ‘‘I love you Winnie Trot.’ And before she could reply he said, ‘‘As this phone box as my witness

as our special place i will one day marry you.’’

Then he lent in and gently pulled her face to his, his mouth brushing with hers, before their lips pecked each other.

How i glowed with pleasure and importance. I was somebodies special place, a secure secret place of love and gaiety. Little did i know it would be a long time before i would see the pair of them

again, but time knows no bounds and for my loneliness time is a great healer.

The next time i saw them I was older but wiser. I had fallen in love with a female called The Operator. She was obviously

a proper English Rose, what with her chipper home counties accent and word pronunciation. But she was never going to fall for an old phone box like me. Her voice was hitting the airwaves with her beautiful sound, and here was me, already getting old the paint flaking around my frozen base. But i knew love when i saw it hand that summer was so hot it didn’t surprise me to seen the two lovers back.

‘‘I’ve got to tell Aunt Flo our news. I’m so happy i could actually burst,’’ Winnie said, dragging Johnny through my door the pair barely dressed. I admit i had to look away as the pair were all hands and hips. I bet even the operator would feel the love radiating in my small cubicle. The operator was joyless this evening as she put them through. Perhaps she wasn’t in love as

much as i thought.

‘‘Auntie, Johnny just proposed , it was so romantic, he got down on one knee his hands full of wildflowers outside our special place!!’’ She was screaming with happiness as they twirled screaming

around and around in a mad spiral the phone hanging,crying,

‘‘Oh my God have you told your Mum and Dad yet?’’

But the pair weren’t listening they were riding their own wave of euphoria. Closing my eyes and looking elsewhere i couldn’t

have been prouder.

It was another five years before i saw them again. This time even Operator couldn’t resist a sneaky glance from her switch

board. They passed through the village in a horse and carriage, the sun beating down relentlessly, their smiles as radiset on a summer evening. As they passed Johnny called the carriage to a stop. Then with his petite bride, her white lace dress

billowing out in the gentle breeze they stopped and had a photo taken with me in the background, trying not to cry and keep my emotions in check.

A bright light exploded and the special moment was caught forever with me trying to look my best. If i had known I would have demanded a new paint job, but i was still only a grade 2 phone box, as common as you could find. As the horse and carriage clattered down the cobbled road the bride and groom locked in an embrace i didn’t know i wouldn’t see them again until the time when the world went mad.

I can still feel the vibration as the bombs fell, the very ground around me exploding in a riot of flashes and thunder-like reverberations that shook the ground. I was lucky as around me the night sky was lit with fire and smoke. But being in the village we missed most of the carnage and destruction that rained down during them dark times. And the only thing that kept me going was that one day i would meet with Johnny and Winnie and they

would grace my door filling me with love and tenderness. Little did i know that Johnny was out flying day after day, one of the few that kept this glorious country free of the Nazi tyranny. I found that out when Willie burst into my embrace her face flush with relief, stained with the filth of the war around her.

Picking up the receiver she dials the number she requires with trembling fingers, every turn of the dial clicking in time with her chattering teeth.

‘‘Operator. What number do you require?’’

‘‘Can you put me through to Brighton 239748 please?’’

‘‘Connecting you now.’’

I feel the silver shillings as they feed through my system connecting a line of communication.

At first there is just static, just a dead noise before the receiver is picked up the other side, ‘‘Who’s that? Hello? Hello?’’ the

voice asks.

‘Hi Aunt Flo, its Winnie, your niece from up north,’ Flo is quiet for a moment before a face pops into her head.

‘‘Winnie, Winnie my god i don’t believe it!!!’’ she screeches.

‘‘Are you still alive? Oh my God that sounds terrible. I heard the house took a direct hit, then nothing.’’

‘‘Yeah we’re fine, still buggering along, ready to fight in the streets if we have to. Mum doing her best, bless her; what with

the food shortage.

‘‘And what about your Johnny? I heard he had joined the RAF, flying them spitfires.’’ said Aunt Flo with pride.

‘‘Oh yes he’s fine now, hes been in hospital. He got shot down near Dover, took some shrapnel in the leg. Typical Johnny tried

getting up and joining his mates. I don’t know what I’ve done if he hadn’t made it..’’ Starting to cry, all she can do is let her

feelings show.

‘‘He’s a special one that one and he’s going to be such a great Dad when Bertie born.’’

Wow, i look up to the skies and see the tracer fires and planes rumbling overhead and think in all this madness a little spark

of love is blossoming within Winnie and i find myself contented for the first time in a long time. At that time i was connected as i could be to the people who had created me and gave me life andlove..

After the war it seemed everything changed. Everything seemed Grey and dull and lifeless. That was it until i heard the

sound of squeaky wheels of a large pram. It would be the last time i would see the couple til the very end, but was the first

glimpse of the future with the cheeky smile of little Bertie, a bundle of love tucked safety away as they walked past past me into the sunset.

It was invevitable it would happen, i should have seen it decades ago when everybody was settling down after the war in their shiny new homes, full of convenient modern gadgets. I was part

of the past now, as a phone in the home become commonplace.

But as the years toiled along, i still stood there my insides plastered with all kinds of graffiti as the new promised future faded as society forgot its roots. Crime, hate and swearing has found a new home. Then the mobile phone revolution has begun, as the heavy beat of progress beats its drums. Yet still i yearn for Johnny and Winnie to return to their special place and show

me again how to love and be loved.

My final day has come and I’m full of regret and misery. But as i lift my head to the heavens, tears cascade down my cheeks. Not tears of sadness but surprise and affection, because standing in front of me is not just a family’; of Grandparents Johnny and Winnie but their sons and daughters and their offspring. All to

bear witness to see me on my last endeavor as an obsolete piece of technology.

As the cranes inch ever closer i realize the crowd are cheering and clapping. Then i understand its for me the applause.

As the mist descends i remember not just being a phone box, but something much more important then that. I was a refuge,a confession box, and a symbol of greatness to a generation that loved me and confided with me as I stand proudly in the museum now, a building full of love for now and the future.