Pining for good ol' days

Andrew Gale looks back at a simpler time...or was it?

NERVE WRACKING: Picking up the phone to call a girl before caller ID was a bit like "walking through the gates of Mordor" according to Andrew Gale. Picture: Contributed

I HAVE just spent the day in bed with a bit of a lurgi. Boss's orders and no, not something self-inflicted.

I get sick of watching home buying and cake cooking shows on TV real quick. I've taken to playing a few games on the internet.

Simple stuff, nothing like the kids play, just Yahtzee or golf. You play against other people who may be likewise bored.

Sometimes I find myself playing against local people, names that I recognise. But mostly people with little flags next to their name telling me they are from Kazakhstan, Latvia or even American Samoa, some sitting under a palm tree or looking out at a snow- covered landscape.

Like many people, when I was younger, at primary school, I had a pen pal. A guy from Canada.

He was the same age as me, think his name was Scott and he was from Calgary, or maybe it was Edmonton.

Somewhere that they hosted the Olympic or Commonwealth Games in Canada a few years ago anyway.

We would sit down in class and scratch out a letter and the teacher would post them. Months later, one would come back and we'd repeat the process. Pretty lame stuff by today's standards and of course, unprompted by the teacher, the next year we lost contact.

One thing I can see would be much easier today, would be talking to those of the opposite sex. I suppose we called it chatting up.

I cannot believe the number of ways that my children, or my single friends are able to find new buddies or potential partners.

Some of them I don't dare describe. In those cases I doubt the world is better for their existence.

You can chat with someone, or even hedge your bets and chat with a few at once.

You get time to think over the answers, or if you can't think of anything just virtually "wave” or "poke” someone. In an emergency, you can say your phone died.

I certainly know I had it better than grandpa.

He'd have to work 80 hours a week then then, after church on Sunday, if he's done all his chores, he might be able to grab the sulky and ride off to go court my future Granny whilst still in his stuffy "Sunday go to meetings” clothes.

By the time I hit "that” age the telephone was pretty much standard in most houses.

All you needed was a phone book, and the phone to be not attached to sister's head, and you could ring a young lady and try to have a chat.

It was still pretty nerve wracking. You'd dial the number and wait to see who answered.

A mate of mine described it as "feeling like a hobbit walking through the gates of Mordor”. Oh dear.

The girl's dad answered and you'd have to explain who you were and why you wanted to talk to his precious daughter.

Even worse was if a younger sibling answered and called out to the young lady in a voice her whole house could hear "Your boyfriend's on the phone.”