ABSTRACT
I was standing in the Hemingford Arms one Friday evening, minding my own business, having a drink with a few friends, when Simon introduced me to someone he knew called Keith.
‘Keith’s a volunteer for Gay Switchboard,’ he told me. ‘That’s interesting. I’ve been thinking about doing something like that,’ I said, more out
of politeness than accuracy. Seven years later, I’m still a volunteer. I don’t exactly have a clear sense of perspective on the subject myself. Paradoxically, it’s
very easy to talk to other volunteers about the calls, the personalities, or the organizational dramas; it’s a standing joke amongst Switchboard volunteers that whenever two or more of us get together, that’s all that we can talk about. Friends of volunteers have been known to refuse dinner invitations unless Switchboard as a topic is banned, and lovers often jokingly refer to themselves as ‘Switchboard widows’.
