Make notes.
1 Why don't I have a telephone ? Not because I pretend to be wise or pose as unusual.
There are two chief reasons : because I don't really like the telephone, and because
find I can still work and play, eat, breathe, and sleep without it. Why don't I like the
telephone ? Because I think it is a pest' and a time-waster. It may create unnecessary
suspense and anxiety, as when you wait for an expected call that doesn't come
irritating delay, as when you keep ringing a number that is always engaged. As for
speaking in a public telephone box, that seems to me really horrible. You would so
use it unless you were in a hurry, and because you are in a hurry, you will find other
people waiting before
you
do
into the box, you are half asphyxiated
by stale, unventilated air, flavoured with cheap face powder and chain-smoking and
by the time you have begun your conversation, your back is chilled by the cold looks
you. When
get
Answers
Answer
1. Why don’t I have a telephone`? Not because I pretend to be wise or pose as unusual. There are two chief reasons: because I don’t really like the telephone and because I find I can still work and play, eat, breathe, and sleep without it. Why don’t I like the telephone? Because I think it is a pest and a time-waster. It may create unnecessary suspense and anxiety, as when you wait for an expected call that doesn’t come; or irritating delay, as when you keep ringing a number that is always engaged. As for speaking in a public telephone box, that seems to be really horrible. You would not use it unless you were in a hurry, and because you are in a hurry you will find other people waiting before you. When you do get into the box, you are half asphyxia-acted by stale, unventilated air, flavoured with cheap face powder and chain-smoking; and by the time you have begun your conversation your back is chilled by the cold looks of somebody who is fidgeting to take your place.
2 If you have a telephone in your house, you will admit that it tends to ring when you least want it—when you are asleep, or in the middle of a meal or a conversation, or when you are just going out, or when you are in your bath. Are you strong-minded enough to ignore it, to say to yourself, ‘Ah well, it will be the same in a hundred’ years time’? You are not. You think there may be some important news or message for you. Have you never rushed dripping from the bath, or chewing from the table, or dazed from the bed, only to be told that you are the wrong number? You were told the truth. In my opinion, all telephone numbers are wrong numbers. If, of course, your telephone rings and you decide not to answer it, then you will have to listen to an idiotic bell ringing and ringing in what is supposed to be the privacy of your own home. You might as well buy a bicycle bell and ring it yourself…
3 If like me, one is without a telephone, somebody is sure to say, ‘Oh, but don’t you find you have to write an awful lot of letters ?’ The answer to that is ‘Yes, but I should have to write an awful lot of letters anyway.’ This may bring the remark: ‘Ah well, if you don’t have a telephone, at least you must have a typewriter.’ And the answer to this is ‘No’.
4 ‘What, no telephone and no typewriter! Do please explain why.’ Well, I am a professional man of letters1. When I was younger I thought a typewriter would be convenient. I even thought it was necessary and that editors and publishers would expect anything sent to them to be typewritten. So I bought a typewriter and taught myself to type and for some years I typed away busily. But I did not enjoy typing. I happened to enjoy the act of writing. I enjoy forming letters or words with a pen, and I could never enjoy tapping the keys of a typewriter. There again, there was a bell—only a little bell that rang at the end of each line—but still, a bell. And the fact is, I am not mechanically minded, and a typewriter is a machine. I have never been really drawn to machines. I don’t like oiling, cleaning. or mending them. I do not enjoy making them work. To control them gives me no sense of power—or not the kind of power that I find interesting. And machines do not like me. When I touch them they tend to break down2