I remember a time before most people had internet access. The internet, or BBS (pre World Wide Web – called Bulletin Board Systems) was only the preserve of the rich. Or, 'lab coated intellectual university types'.
[dons a smoking jacket, and swills around a glass of port while puffing on a cigar]
The 'information age' is all very well and good. It's amazing the way people can communicate online via the medium of social networking sites and forums. It's great how it has made the world smaller if you look at it in a certain fashion, and how it brings people together. Such as this hallowed forum to quote nearly infinite numbers of online examples, You can even go as far as checking this place out on a smart phone wherever you are. Hell, you can even look at the forum while you're on the toilet in a random Starbucks somewhere. Instant communication. The stuff of dreams.
Or...Is it?
[Cue Dvorak's 'New Age Symphony' at this point]
Back in the late 1990s when I finished college, Windows XP had yet to exist and internet connections were expensive. Most people either rang people up, met them down the pub, invited themselves over for tea and biscuits – maybe even a few beers. The only way I kept in touch with college friends that split and went to University while I got a job was writing to one or two people, We aimed to stay in touch with several others but they all disappeared into the ether (to be found a decade later lurking on Facebook with kids, a mortgage, a job, probably some grey hairs and a bit of weight. Maybe even a bit threadbare in the old barnet department for blokes. It varies).
I used to enjoy writing to a friend of mine. Every week, without fail, I would write about how things were and just about anything that we believe that mattered. Not piddling observations either. Elaborate tomes on A4 margined paper, spanning around 10 pages. With decent spelling, punctuation and grammar. These never suffered from connection problems, or needed technical know how. Just a bit of time, your favourite pen, and a 20ish pence for a sticker with The Queen's Profile on it stuck on the top left corner that officially paid for it to reach the destination outlined on the envelope.
Occasionally, I would ring him up too. Using my shiny new mobile phone, which not many people had. Which looked ever so flash and 'looked like it cost a bit' and would raise an eyebrow to use some of my 100 minutes monthly allowance on my contract. There was something in the manual about 'SMS Messaging' – and often wondered what it was like to receive such a thing on my phone.
Every month, or every other month depending on financial circumstance I would take a train down to his University Digs and crash out over there. Meeting in person, having a good old pint down the pub or several. And getting up to madcap high jinks with the occupants of his Digs. I would also splash my wages on shiny new CD's, or better still – Vinyl. Second hand Pink Floyd, Mike Oldfield, and one time I was blown away by the majesty that was 'Floodland' by Sisters of Mercy. Even brand new vinyl. New releases by my favourite extreme metal bands like Emperor, Napalm Death, Deicide, and a record by a bunch of men in Badger-esque make up that had an indecipherable band logo. It was either Darkthrone or Cradle of Filth. I can't recall. I still have them somewhere. And, a couple by this band called The Mission.
I would often stick the hi-fi on, and just write away to these friends. They done the same thing too. And this may looked like I was being anti social, but I also had friends that were more local to me that I used to catch up with and have a pint with them too. I made sure I made the time.
Fast forward back to modern day:
Sometime, not so long ago on a broadband connection browsing Facebook somewhere in a North West town in a spare room, I read an interesting status. It read that they received a letter from their Grandmother that was beautifully wrote, with correct grammar, spelling and was moved by it. She felt the need to switch the PC off and write back. The stati claimed an 'epic number of like clicks' with many people reminiscing of those times. Amongst the sea of drivel that read “I ad my fish n chips 4 my tea n it wuz gret likh, aha” and such like.
Don't get me wrong. I don't want to go back some strange Victorian era where we all wrote with a quill and ink, but don't you miss the days of this sort of thing outlined in this post? In some way, technology has helped communication but has also depersonalised it to some extent.
Make of this what you will...
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