HERE’S an interesting fact I’ve learned in the last week: there are more red telephone boxes in my back garden than there are on the streets of Swindon, writes GRAHAM CARTER.

By this I mean I haven’t just realised there is one in my back garden, but rather that all the red public phone boxes in Swindon have gone.

I hadn’t noticed the last red one had disappeared, but then again I am surprised there are still 44 working phone boxes still left in our area, on account of they barely have any use any more.

It is nearly 30 years since I bought my old red phone box, and probably 20 since I last made a call from one. To be honest, I wouldn’t even know how to make a call any more.

First there was the old A and B mechanism, which I remember as a kid, then slots to take 2p and 10p coins, then phone cards.

Presumably you need some kind of card to operate one these days, but I wouldn’t have a clue how to go about it.

The reason for the imminent death of the public payphone is, of course, mobiles, but even though I have an anorak-like interest in the big metal boxes that house them, I have to say phones do absolutely nothing for me, and I hardly ever use one.

I have a mobile phone, of course, and I use it a fair bit because it does a lot of interesting things. It has a torch on it, for instance.

But something I rarely use it for is phone calls.

You see, when I am out, the last thing I want is be bothered by is somebody on the phone. Either I’ll be on my bike, or in the library, or at a meeting, or down the pub, and who wants to take a call when you’re busy?

I have even made a point of never learning the number of my phone, because if I did I might blurt it out to somebody, without thinking, and then they might phone me at some inopportune or awkward moment in the future.

Only my wife and children know the number, which they are authorised to dial in an emergency.

But if they should, it is unlikely I will answer because I don’t switch it on much, because that only wears down the battery.

To tell the truth, like a lot of people, I don’t really like phone calls. If somebody phones me up at home, I’ll answer, but if I can possibly avoid making a call myself, I will.

I would much rather converse by email, semaphore or some other method of communication, and nothing beats talking to somebody face to face.

And I don’t think that makes me unusual. I know several people who really don’t like making phone calls, but seem pretty much obliged to, because we live in a society where the phone is king.

There must be millions of people like us, forced into using something we much rather wouldn’t.

My interest in phone boxes is purely to do with social history and British tradition, and the news that most of them are going to be decommissioned is yet another thing that makes me feel old.

I bought my red phone box because I wanted a piece of history, before they disappeared and were replaced by modern steel ones.

But now I find myself wanting one of the steel ones, because they are disappearing too.

I never thought we would see the day when working phone boxes would be history, nor that so few people would miss them when they were gone.