In my Italian relatives' house, it's in the hall. I know this, because when I was in my travelling year, I stayed with them for a couple of weeks, and took a lengthy phone call from the man in Canada with whom I was deeply in love. I have a vivid memory of sitting on the floor, near the phone table, discussing the results of the Canadian elections, and of him breaking off to tell me that he couldn't believe he was awake at 07h00 discussing Canadian politics on an overseas phone call with the woman he loved.
I grew up in Toronto, where one would almost certainly find a phone in the kitchen, often mounted to the wall. My grandmom's main phone is still on a little counter in her kitchen. I also remember telephone tables for the living room/den/family room—little weird end-table things with a phone platform, and a space under the phone platform for the phone book.
Mission Statement
Reading, writing, plant photography, and the small details of my life, with digressions into science and computing.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-05-10 03:01 am (UTC)I grew up in Toronto, where one would almost certainly find a phone in the kitchen, often mounted to the wall. My grandmom's main phone is still on a little counter in her kitchen. I also remember telephone tables for the living room/den/family room—little weird end-table things with a phone platform, and a space under the phone platform for the phone book.