Phone box poem
We often walk past this largely unnoticed Wicklewood landmark, and when we do, I am often tempted to cock my leg up against it — but, “No!” say’s ‘him’ (he who looks after me).
I think he is rather attached to it. So much so that he has written a poem about it and you can read it here: ‘Woof woof!’
Decrepit,
In decline,
Still functioning by design
To provide a lifeline
Cubicula
Of KX100 form
For teeming moths and spiders, a silent dorm
A BT lantern in uniform
This ‘Kiosk’ has a light on a timer
It fluoresces on cue
These days its user populous is so few
There is no need to queue
Is it ever used, our booth?
If so, how does it equate
With the published monthly rate
Of rural calls that phonate?
The KX100, a progeny of GKN and DCA
A descendant of the GPO red series K
This was the beholder of the ‘Press Button A’
And a Grade II listed icon of yesterday
In 1968, there was one K6 red box standing
Outside the ‘pinkish’ PO in Wicklewood
Just up from the corner of Low Street, villagers could
Telephone to anywhere in the world from this neighbourhood
In 1996, the BT Piper finally played its ‘last post’
The old General Post Office closed
In Wicklewood its franchise already sold
To a grocery store, further up the road
Soon the Wymondham’s Exchange would be all but gone
As the likes of Nokia, Motorola and Ericson
Took on British Telecom
But it was the Android and Smartphone that eventually won.
Sir G.G. Scott designed his K2 as a community thing
It still is in some places and has always been
Although its appearance has changed many times since it was first seen
In early 20th century shops, railway stations and promenade scenes
Not all now connect to telephone wires
But there are some that have survived
As the ‘world’s smallest’ Library, a virtual Concert Hall or Café hive
Some, bought for a £1, contain defibrillators to keep folk alive
So, what is there inside Wicklewood’s model KX100 box?
Yes, a working telephone — albeit its handset is slightly broke
There is last year’s, moth-eaten, ‘Circus Fantasia’ poster to attract WickleFolk
And above its door a banner reads ‘Coins not accepted here’ — a vandal’s joke.
