An Old Friend With Light Trails

Do you remember?

The smell of the receiver. And if you were unlucky, the box itself? The heat after someone else had been in.

The calls to first loves with your heart skipping till the end tone.

The ability to phone home without paying to see if your Mum was back?

The totem of teenagehood, drawing the masses to gather of an evening.


The Old Red Phonebox.