Tangled and grey at the back of a drawer, the weird, alien devices stared wanly up at me. As so often happens when you try to clear out your loft, I was forced to stop and think.
A memory stirred, half exciting, half terrifying. These devices had once been my lifeline and hope.
For many years in the newspaper trade I was haunted by the fear of discovering the greatest story of my life only to learn I could not find a telephone to send it to London. This was all too possible, especially in some of the places I rashly went
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