Author William Kuhn and I both spent some formative years in London. We comprised part of the tide of children in dowdy woolen uniforms that crossed the city every day by tube or bus (or a combination of both) to school. We scratched out essays in fountain pen with consistently ink stained fingers, and probably, if pressed, could remember our Latin declensions. And I won’t get into the Latin version of Jingle Bells, well, I’ll just say it had something to do with the sound of chariots racing through the forum, and we learned the lyrics by listening to a low fidelity vinyl recording of some ancient Oxford dons.
I remember my school years there with a certain intensity that I don’t know would be possible in a detached digital era.
Or, I might be completely off-base about memory and engagement, vs., passive reception of digital data.
The era I write about in my Hollywood novel predates the Internet, and is at the dawn of the mobile phone, so in lieu of “ringing you” I invite you to…