I T C H

Back in the olden days of my memory, communication was simple.     You spoke to people face to face, or  from a greater distance you telephoned or wrote to people.  In my childhood I rarely spoke on the telephone.   I don’t remember my grandparents even having one.   My parents didn’t have a phone at home until I was in my teens.      I only ever spoke to my school friends face to face.     In my university days in the 1960’s I rang home from a. telephone box.     When I travelled abroad I occasionally sent post cards home.

When I started work in my 20’s, it was the first time I regularly started to use a phone, but letters were still the main form of business communication.

That’s all ancient history now.   A lifetime away, beyond the comprehension of the current generation, just as much as today’s world of instant communication frequently bewilders me.

As quickly as I learn one way of doing things, it is replaced by something newer still.     In fact nothing stays still for long!     Emails are the letters of one generation.   Texting are the words of another.     Mobile phones are the new office desk.    Twitter, Instagram, WhatsApp, Messenger, Skype, Facebook, FaceTime and Zoom are the meeting places in the clouds,

                INSTANT   TECHNOLOGY   CREATES   HAVOC

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6 Responses to I T C H

  1. itch’
    An anachronism @ITCH@ how about after deep thought= ‘’Inteligent technical communications here’’.
    Just a blast from the past, and some old croanie called ‘Dear JOhn’’ after his many letters to this blog site, and our joint considered responses addressed personally to Dear John, and possibly a tear or two in the meanings of the letter [by postie], or an instant ‘Blog’ from us with an insincere feelings of the love that John may wish us to have??
    I still in my dotage, communicate by mail to my offspring especially the younger members of the family, not for their benefit , but mine in reminding me Postie has a job to done, and the pleasure in my younger life of letters from home, and a loved one {MOlly}. Then the dread from my employers communication to home by the telegraph boy on the bike, with some upsetting news. Fortunately I believe my parents only received one such communication ‘Fire aboard SS Br, Queen- all are safe’, and we were all encouraged to send a telex message back home stating we were safe, well and no injuries!! At our next port we all posted letters of the event, and our feelings of relief to be alive!
    So while at sea and communications between home and me, privately were by a letter through the companies mail system, that was secure in which ever port we were in in the world. Out going mail from our loved ones was to the shipping company registered office in the UK, where the mail/post was forwarded on with ships papers and the company mail to the next port. [Again secure delivery].
    We had the ability to send through the radio officer [Sparks] a curtailed telegram, or if in home waters a radio telephone communication-time limited. So as I read and reread JOhn’s blog above I am in memory taken back to that most private of communication, a letter-hand written, with those words and feelings of what one wished to express to ones loved ones.
    Today the telephone [dog and bone in my day] went through an exchange and an operator with plugs and cables connecting one conversation to another? Here was a possible leak the exchange operator could, maybe listen in to those soft words of endearment, or juicy comments that one made off the cuff? {and the operator may inadvertently make some adverse comment public-ally.}.
    Today with mobiles ZOOM, and the web face book, twitter etc. Who is the judge of what you may wish to say to a personal friend or loved one? Even Big brother of 1984, and CHELTENHAM DOUGHNUT, have ears, and their again the fraudsters and scammers have listening posts, and report to ‘GOD KNOWs Who or WHOM???
    Do I have words of wisdom??? the answer is no!!! Just a life time of scepticism!!! Communications from a restricted society like a ship, offshore installation, a government, or commercially run installation all have some form of code of conduct, where communications are ‘vetted’?? in one form or another!!! Maybe even ‘censored’.
    This is a message to you dear reader, if you love me, send me a letter, if it is a rebuff, then answers on a postcard please, to the usual address , and I await ‘postie’ with baited breath! AaaH!

  2. I wonder if that ‘old bag of wind ” is still around, Tapping morse code out with his walking stick, taking note of the responses by the flashes in the other persons eyes, or even gesticulating madly with ones arms, as one attempts to semaphore the code of international signals , and responding, even blaspheming as they take in the reply, and recite it to the message clerk?
    It is all in the wind, and a long time ago, when were younger and more virile!! Now we may be considered ‘OLD GOats’ living on a hill side, waiting for that extra push up to the top of the hill, so we can be above the clouds and surrounded by sunshine and friends??
    Regards ‘OLD Fruit’ Remember me????

  3. Is ‘demonic cummings our 7 year or is it 5 year ‘ITCH’

  4. is demonic cummings our 7 year ‘Itch’ or is it 5 years itch

  5. Lifetime
    Coronapop Street 25 June/25June.
    I refer in this blog CoronaPOP Street, to my families lifetime experiences, relevant to Neville Shute’s book/Novel ‘’The Far Country’’ as published in 1952.
    The story thorough out its length brings to my mind the thoughts I have had, related to experiences and the dreaminess, as I reflect on my take of the storyline.
    In the beginning the story is set since the advent of WWII, and early inter war years of life in the British Empire in the Indian/Burma civil service: Then after WWII in the mid to late 1940’s and the misplaced refugees in Europe, and their placement, within the British Commonwealth in particular the Dominion of Australia. Here the story touches on the human relationships, of new immigrants to Australia, and how the qualifications of their birth land, and the cessation of hostilities, how the displaced persons qualification’s were required to be re established in the new world of Australia. All these hardships to the new Australian immigrants, mixed in with the human relationships of work and love. A Most enjoyable story.
    All this in a novel, and my life qualifying as a marine engineer, and travelling to a few foreign places within this world including Australia, where Molly and I meet up with an honorary Aunt and Uncle, whom and their family I knew as a kid in Germany after the WWII in the ‘’British Control Commission In Germany’’, who all travelled out in the early 50’s as £10 Pommes immigrants, and when we meet up with them all , the whole family were pleased to have made the decision to become Australian Citizens. We meet them on a ships visit in 1967 some 10 years after they had emigrated.
    As with life, it is what one makes of it!

  6. An ”ITCH’ ‘DRESSED To KILL’?
    Talking innocently among the residents of my retirement village, and passing a conversation or two on passing, in these times of The Corona Virus, there is a feeling of dajavoiu!!!.
    Thanks and respect are paid to the NHS and it’s staff, all dressed up to the nines in their gowns/masks/shields and gloves-BUT alas to us oldies as we listen to the pronouncements concerning our personal ailments, we are not looking and listening to a friendly face but a set of piercing eyes, a muffled voice, and a language from a latin dictionary?
    What would be more friendly is to see the full face, read the eyes, listen to a clear voice, and read some moving lips? It comes to us all with age our mental and visual faculties are not what they were some few years ago, and we drift in a dream, and just wonder, what is our ailment, that we went to the NHS to have advice upon, and be comforted by a trusting medic, who’s first language may not be english???.
    We appreciate we are protected, however respect for age comes into the picture, and during this ‘corona virus’, we need that little extra human reassurance!

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