London Calling

“London just might be calling, but I ain’t fallin’ for that trap! Because you know, they left us, the union, so, guess they don’t want us there anymore?“ Gun Roswell

London Calling

The doors painted bright red, as is the whole boxset, like an alarm or giant sign, they were there, a reminder of the good old days, where nobody would be glaring at their small mobile phone all day.

Placing calls, only if you could afford, a coin inserted to the slot, and on the dot, well, with some effort, fingers numbing from rotating the disk filled with long numbers.

And if memory had suffered a loss, then the only boss, was the thick of the phone book, with names and numbers written down, reading needing to be fundamental.

Still, now, they are a picture perfect reminder of what once was, as no modern day kid, can even realise, what effort it took, just to phone home, never mind chatting, netting or ‘graming the whatever each and every moment of the day.

All hail the phone booth of yesterday!

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