Many people associate England with its Victorian and Edwardian heritages. There were some mainstay objects that were so British, any where in the world you were, you recognised them. The great British red bus was one; another was the Post and Telephone boxes, both red (though very old post boxes were green.) Then there were the Police boxes, where a constable would be on duty. It was both for the police and the public. They also had telecommunication in them. In those days of course the local ‘Bobby’ as he was called normally, ‘walked the beat’ or to explain more fully, he marched or meandered around his ‘patch of turf’ making sure no young hoodlums were misbehaving. If he found any, a quick clip of the ear, or word would have most young lads or lassies quick to behave.

Also were the sweetie shops, where for a measly penny you could buy the most wonderful English sweets. Today adults hunt far and wide for these sweet delicacies such as sherbet lemons, liquorice rock and parma violets. To add to this were the tuppenny flicks where a local cinema showed cartoons for little money. After which, if one was very lucky, they would be taken to a shop for that very English staple; a Fish n’ Chips for supper.

Roll forward 50 years, OHHH No! The pictures (Cinema) is now so expensive that you need a mortgage to take the whole family! And heaven help you if the children ask for popcorn! By the time you stagger out of the cinema, bemoaning on how you will afford the rent next week, you hear the inevitable cry of ‘I’m hungry.’ "Oh!" you gasp as the possible chocolate bar treat you were going to splash out on disappears! So; to the Fish and Chip shop. Where is the newspaper to wrap the fish? Gone! In the interest of health and safely (I mean how much ink poisoning can a person suffer!) it is now just plain white paper, sob!.

Then we move to the sweets. Ever heard the saying; ‘like a needle in a haystack?’ will, it’s like that finding those sweets! We have all the ‘homogenised’ sweets but not the original ones that made life so comfortable on a Saturday. As we Brits now get to the bus stop to bemoan our light pockets, and lack of sherbet lemons we get another shock. The BUS; Gone is the glorious red one (unless you live in London). They are now so wide they’re coaches! And of all different colours, or so old and mistreated they apologise when you get on!

As one then decides in the good old English way to do something about it, one looks for a phone box. After all, they should be clear to see being bright red. Oh! Horror, they’ve changed too! Big bits of glass and a covered bottom, that definitley is NOT red. “Well!” One thinks, “That does it, where’s the police box?” Ahhhhhhhh! Gone. All one catches of the local bobby is a streak as his car speeds ahead on a 999 callout.

So what has happened? Apart from a few sad, battle scarred relics hidden down allyways, they have been discarded all in the name of Progress. I mean, last time anyone saw a Police box, Dr. Who was in it!