Oh the tales this telephone could tell. The stories and secret that have been spoken into it. The laughter and the tears it has shared. Memories by the million.
For this is the telephone that my family used all of my growing up life. Mum and Dad refused to update it even after it had gone out of fashion and the telephone company said they wanted to take it away and give them a plastic one with a plastic lead. Now they are collectors items and I am so grateful that Mum and Dad kept it. I spent a lot of my teenage years sitting in the hallway on the velvet chair which is now at the top of my stairs and next to the table that this telephone now stands on. Curled up in the cushions, twiddling the cord between my fingers as I confided news and shared gossip with my friends.
When I was little, our telephone number had just four numbers to it, then the 3 at the front became 29 and then in latter years a 4 was added to it and it became the normal six digit number. The numbers are still visible, written on the little circle of card in the middle of the dial. Just beneath the printed information to remind you to call 999 for Fire, Police or Ambulance and 100 for the operator. Hand written by my dad, the ink is faded now, but this is still a tiny, tangible part of him, and still very precious.
At Christmas, the young children in our family were enthralled by the phone. The weight of it in their little hands, the effort it took to put their tiny fingers into the silver holes of the dial and turn it. The noise it made as it whirled back into position. They had never come across a phone like this before.
So, January 2013, I have 'picked my precious' - now please pop over to Sian's blog to share other people's precious possessions.