Category Archives: Mobile

The death of a time and a place for everything

Diary date: 12th May, 1985

Amazon LockerI did two utterly unremarkable things this week in 1985, but they were exactly the kind of things I started followthehumming to help me spot.

First off, I went to the university library twice to do some research on Swedish canals (sounds odd I know, but don’t be alarmed, I’ve written before about how this forms part of my secret superpower). The library itself was about three miles away, so going there wasn’t a decision to be taken lightly, eating as it did into valuable drinking time.

Secondly, I waited at home all evening for a phone call that never came (don’t worry, I’m over her now – or at least I was until I started re-reading my diaries!).

What on earth was I thinking? Why didn’t I just turn on my tablet, connect to the nearest wi-fi and do my research sitting in Starbucks? Or just put my mobile on vibrate and head to the nearest bar to drown my sorrows in anticipation of what was about to happen?

Clearly the fact that the technology involved was a distant dream at the time didn’t help, but what these stories really bring to life is the very different relationship we had with ‘place’ in the 80’s.

Back then, place sat high on the list of stuff you needed to keep an eye on. If you agreed to meet someone somewhere at a certain time, the arrangement was locked and loaded. Once things were under way, you couldn’t alter your plans without leaving someone stranded. Today, we don’t even agree to meet up, we just agree to agree to meet up later, details to be confirmed – with at least the one consequent benefit of it now being very hard to be late for anything.

Activities happened in predictable places. Phone calls were taken wherever the phone was  plugged in – a draughty hall in my case. Watching TV happened in the living-room with everyone crowded round, rather than in isolated pockets of the house and on lots of different devices. Books were browsed and bought in a bookshop. ‘Computing’ happened three feet in front of the television into which you’d plugged your ZX-81. Video games were played in a seedy arcade. Listening to your music library happened wherever your parents had set up their ‘Music Centre’ – the enormous record-and-cassette-tape-playing monster that has now been replaced by the ubiquitous iPod. Even living itself was location-specific, and took place either in the kitchen or the living-room, probably the only two rooms where your mum and dad thought it was acceptable to turn on the central heating.

Place continues to evolve. With Amazon Locker, the world’s largest online retailer has decided that even the home is not sacrosanct. The items you’ve bought from them can now simply be delivered to you as an individual – wherever you are.

As technology changes, so the idea of place is gradually becoming more fluid and more personal.

Place feels less and less like something external with which we interact.

Instead, it has started travelling with us.

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Sealed with a ‘x’

Diary date: 15th March 1985

On this day 28 years ago I was on a public payphone chatting to my mum and dad  about what I’d been up to at University. I seem to remember working hard and remaining relatively sober featured strongly in my account of what was happening, but there may have been other things that I chose not to share.

I even remember my mum suggesting – correctly as it happened – that I wasn’t really bothering with shaving too much because she could hear the crackle of my stubble against the receiver. ‘Lots of love!’ she said brightly at the end of the call, just as my money was running out.

These days I get more ‘lots of loves’ than I know what to do with. They’re nothing to do with popularity, just the pay-off line of almost every text message I receive. I can’t quite remember when it was that ending every communication with an ‘x’ (or ‘xx’ or ‘xxx’ – depending on how you’re feeling) became obligatory, but it clearly has. I even had one ‘xx’ from a colleague at work the other day – although he did apologise afterwards.

One of my daughter’s friends was explaining last week that she actually prefers texting to talking on the phone, specifically because of the ease with which she can add a kiss to the end of the message. ‘After all,’ she said – looking very exasperated – ‘how do you put a kiss at the end of a phone call?’

Calling places, not people

Diary date: 2nd March, 1985

Remember what it was like to make a telephone call to a place, not a person? Here’s how it was. . .

[A public payphone rings in a crowded student common room in a hall of residence. Sarah looks round and realises that no-one else is going to answer it. She picks it up.]

“Hello?”

“Oh hi, it’s Andrew’s mum here. I was wondering if he was there?”

“Hi Andrew’s mum! It’s Sarah here. Give me a second and I’ll see if I can find him for you.”

[Sarah turns to the room.]

“Anybody seen Andrew?”

[Various shakes of the head. No-one replies. Sarah goes to stand by the stairs.] 

“Tony! Are you up there? Tony! Is Kirsty with you? Andrew’s mum’s on the phone and I was wondering if she knew if he was in? Tony? Oh, for goodness sake!”

[Sarah returns to the phone.]

“Andrew’s mum? Hi, it’s Sarah here again. Really sorry, but I’m going to have to go and have a look. Can you hang on?”

“Yes of course.”

“OK. I won’t be a minute.”

[Sarah runs up three flights of stairs to Andrew’s room and knocks on his door.]

“Andrew? It’s Sarah. Your mum’s on the phone. Andrew?”

[Andrew appears at the door, looking hung over.]

“Thanks, Sarah. Can you tell her I’ll be down in a minute?”

[Andrew pulls his clothes on and drags himself downstairs five minutes later. He picks up the phone, trying to ignore everyone else in the room.]

“Hi Mum.”

2nd March, 2013

. . . and here’s how it is now:

[Andrew is asleep in bed. His mobile rings. He is slightly hung over and winces at the ringtone. He reaches over, picks it up and looks at the screen. It’s his mum. He groans, presses reject, rolls over, and tries to get back to sleep.]