A spicy mix of Oxford stories from a house once belonging to a city sausage maker.
A call out for Oxford’s forgotten phone boxes
Nestled into a corner on Catte Street across the way from Oxford’s famous ‘Bridge of Sighs’, stands an old red telephone box. It is in a sorry state. The door is locked. The paint peeling. Its contents long since carted away. Most people pass it by without so much as a glance. Occasionally a tourist will stop to take a selfie, for they have read in the guidebooks that this is a monument to British telecommunications history, that the design has iconic status. But for me, standing here looking at its sad empty shell, this cherry-coloured cubicle with its distinctive domed roof brings back memories.









