Conversations with my Grandmother

The heavy black Bakelite*, with her old-fashioned finger-dial face, rang cheerfully. No electronic beeps or booms. No flashing buttons or man-made dialogue. Just the classic ring of a phone from years gone by, echoing out of the receiver. I was lost in this nostalgic moment.

There I was back in the old sunroom at 3 Yonga Road. Mum and Dad had scored tickets to the tennis at Kooyong and it was time to explore my Grandparents’ house. The back room had all sorts of surprises for young inquisitive children. Raffle tickets and empty ice-cream containers from bingo; old stamp pads; letters (I later discovered were from my Grandfather’s brother in WW1) sealed inside reused bread bags; and the old Singer sewing machine, drawers spilling over with interesting buttons, threads and implements.

Plonked on the Singer was my grandparents old Bakelite phone with their phone number scribbled on its dial. It didn’t work anymore but it became one of our favourite play accessories.  Phone calls to our Mum and Dad at the tennis (mobile phones weren’t even conceived,) calls to our toyshop or our office and phone calls to our grandmother in the next room. These were conversations that evoked the same magic from pumpkins, magic beans and toadstools.

‘Ring, ring.’

“This is Dot’s Diner. How can I help you?”

“Hi Dot. We’d like to order a ham sandwich with green pickles, a crab-apple jelly sandwich and two glasses of cordial please.”

 “What time shall I expect you?” 

 “We will be arriving in ten minutes.”

 “Would you like the table set with fine china?”

 “Yes please and we’d love Jacko to eat with us too.”

'Click.' The Old Bakelite phone piece gently presses the receiver buttons and engages our conversation. A poorly insulated wall separates us.

Conversations with my grandmother are becoming clear again as the Bakelite rings on.

‘Ring, ring’

“836 3442…Hello Mrs Meagher speaking”

 “Yes. Hello Mrs Meagher. We’d like to invite you to our fairy party.”

“That sounds splendid. When is it?”

 “Today of course!”

 “I’d love to, but I’m not sure I will have time to bake.”

 “That’s o.k. We are eating magic fairy food in the garden.”

“ I’ll put my boots on and see you soon”

“ See you soon Dot.”

Silence as the Bakelite swallows our secret conversation with a smile.

It takes twice as long to call out on the old Bakelite but the eh urrr, eh urrr sound of the finger dial being turned is enjoyable. For that moment I am the little girl at the diner ordering her lunch and the magic fairy planning her party. I am having a conversation with my grandmother.

‘Ring, ring’ the Bakelite cheerfully exclaims as I wait…

* Bakelite phones are the old black hard cased phones from the 50-60’s (see pic). I recently purchased one on EBay because I was feeling nostalgic and it reminded me of my happy childhood as we approach Mother’s Day. Who needs an IPhone when you can have a Bakelite phone?