Dulltown, UK/Europe: Today’s instruction is to put the collected garden worms into a shallow bowl; take off your shoes and socks and place your feet gently into the worms, taking special care not to squash the ones towards the bottom; raise your head, close your eyes, and sing your country’s nation anthem as nicely and respectfully as you can.
Some time ago, it must be several months now at least, I posted a photo of a couple of cream coloured telephone boxes outside a pub in Dulltown Minor a few miles north (Click here); I snapped them out of the cafe window after sitting for a few minutes admiring their elegant design, which I later found out was the work of architect Sir Giles Gilbert Scott back in 1935.
The little bit of research I did for the post has since ballooned into something which might be called ‘an interest’ in the history of UK telephone box design. I think, dear reader, I might now be officially a nerd.
A couple of weeks ago I even went, along with a similarly afflicted friend, on a trip to a museum which has a comprehensive collection of UK telephone boxes, (three train rides to get there, and three to get back). It was a most enjoyable day out! So, why am I telling you all this?
Well, it is just to demonstrate an example of the use of my new found interest dear reader.
The other evening I was watching a creaky old British black and white film from the 1950s on TV. During the viewing I had occasion to break into a brief smug smile of nerdiness:
Showing was an exterior shot, a London street scene, there was a phone box on the pavement, at the left-hand side of the frame, it was a very nice looking K2 (1926 and onwards). A character in the drama, a sullen miscreant, or a steadfast plain-clothes officer of the law, I forget which, trotted down the road towards us, he was wearing a big flapping overcoat and a trilby hat. He flung open the door of the phone box and went in.
We now cut to an interior shot of the box, the man picks up the receiver to make a call, one which would turn out to be vital to the plot of the film. Good! All fine and dandy!
But no! Not to some keen-eyed person with some knowledge of telephone kiosk design (‘kiosk’, that’s what the ‘K’ stands for by the way). Yes, a grave error had been made by the director and production manager of the film! The interior shot was showing not the interior of that K2, but the interior of a K6! Dear me, what a terrible and embarrassing gaffe! Imagine the blushes of the crew when they noticed it!
Yes, as well as one kiosk being markedly bigger than the other, the window panes of the K2 and the K6 have a completely different layout – yes, the miscreant (or copper?) was now obviously phoning from a K6! As you can imagine dear reader – I smiled…
I expect the studio had its own indoor non-operative K6 for such shots, so that the lighting would be more easily controlled, and also to give easier access for those bulky cameras they had back then, I wonder if they actually took the door off?
It’s a pity it was such an old film, I would have liked to have written to the producers to point out their silly error, which for me completely ruined the whole film!…
Well, not really of course, in fact I might watch it again if it comes back on – I’ll be on the edge of my seat waiting for that particular scene though!…