I moved into Belfiore Lodge in Highbury on 28 December 1985 after waiting for a year and a half for one of the attic flats.
It was a Victorian house that looked like it’d come out of a Dracula film set, with a Virginia creeper covering the front wall, honeysuckle and sweet peas covering the side wall, and turrets and a wind vane on the roof.
The interior was equally time-frozen with, among other things going back to the 1940s–1960s, a pay phone on the wall in the ground floor hall. There was a bell on the ground floor, and another on the attic floor just outside my door, so that all eight flats (from basement to attic) could hear the ringing of any incoming call.
One day, I was at home all day, marking 200 ‘O’ level Chinese exam papers when the phone rang. Not expecting any calls, I ignored it.
The ringing went on for a long time, then stopped. A few minutes later, it started again, going on and on and on. This happened at least half a dozen times, each time ringing for ages. It was driving me to distraction.
I wanted to run downstairs, pick up the phone and shout at the caller, “Will you stop ringing! You’ve been ringing non-stop. Can’t you tell nobody’s home!?!”
(London, 1986)
Haha
ReplyDeleteYou could have, just adding "who wants to answer the phone" to avoid getting in a logical bind...
It was a spontaneous thought, which was what prompted the blog (the illogicality of it). I was later reminded of a phone call I took as a child for my mother from someone she was trying to avoid, and I said, "Mummy says she's not at home." So, my brain just works in this scrambled way, it seems...
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