Kingston Upon Hull - White Phone Box

Standing in a phone box 10pence in hand, on a dark winters night, somewhere in time, kids in tow, all squeezing into the box, sheltering from the wet cold weather, the air of the box stale with smoke, beer & piss engrained into the fabric from prior use and abuse, calling a loved one or a friend across the city, a husband too late in the pub, venturing out of the house in pyjamas & dressing gowns, qeues grow for the shared receiver, used by those in the city who cant afford connection or want anonymity. Arguments held in the street for all to hear, eyes & ears watch and listen through windows and from door steps "who's Doreen ringing at this time of night"? a nosy house wife questions to her husband.

Before the mobile phone, before the web, before connectivity we had the white box, a relic from an age long passed, standing still, an echo in time.