where art collides philosoperontap

She was a few tables away but I could hear her voice as if she was sat opposite, talking directly at me. I could see that others were speaking but hers was the only voice I could hear. Her pitch must have been tuned exactly for my ear. She didn’t seem to be talking loudly.

Talk was of grass seed, husband, New Zealand and a swimming pool that was one metre short of Olympic size. Odd. It was as if I was hearing one side of a telephone conversation because I couldn’t hear the other half of the conversation.

I wasn’t interested enough to record the conversation any more accurately than that. It wasn’t what she was saying that aroused my curiosity. It was the fact that  I could hear her but no one else.

Breakfast, Holiday Inn Bloomsbury, Friday, March 1st

The day grows old. Traffic has subsided on the road outside though I can still hear the occasional car drive by. The lights are full on illuminating the front room for all to see – the curtains have been tied up to let the new paint dry on the window sill. Anne has been busy.

The printer has been fixed, paper jam removed and new printer drivers installed on my laptop. The sound card doesn’t work though since I dropped the laptop on its side and jammed the headphone jack deep in. Ah well.

Someone has ridden by on a bicycle swearing angrily at another person unseen. Oh dear.

The TV which has been showing documentaries all night is now switched off. Good.

Anne is pottering away in the kitchen. She has been out to a school fashion show. Anne is on the committee of The Friends of William Farr, otherwise known as the PTA or at least it was in my day. I have never been on such a committee, perhaps an indictment of my apathy. If they asked me for a donation I would give it.

The brightness of this room seems out of place tonight. Perhaps it is doubly bright because of the reflections off the windows. The curtains would normally be shut. Stands to reason really. For all I know someone is stood in the front garden staring in at me. Wondering.

I will be off to bed soon enough. The routine will kick in. Check the front and back doors even though I know that Anne will already have done so. Brush teeth in downstairs toilet. I find it more convenient to keep the gear there as it saves me having to nip back upstairs before heading out to work.  There will probably be a quick glance round the kitchen. Ours is a large kitchen with two kitchen tables. Very useful.

Tonight I made a point of tidying the kitchen before Anne arrived home. It isn’t fair on her to be confronted with a mess which can easily be the case with three lads in the house. It is done and she seems reasonably happy with it.

The clock ticks. A quick glance informs me it is telling the right time. Unusual! Must have a new battery. Good.

Looking around I am surrounded by books. You can never have too many books. One of the shelves also has a giant pencil which I bought as a souvenir from the pencil factory at Keswick in the Lake District. It has no practical uses and were it ever to need sharpening we would not have a suitable pencil sharpener for the purpose.

The vacuum cleaner is in the corner of the room under the desk. It is a Dyson. Strange. It is normally kept in the cupboard under the stairs. Unusual for it not to be tidied away. There must be a good explanation.

I’m off to bed now. Goodnight.

wake up 7.45 ish, tweet a little & consume cup of tea brought by Anne, doze

out of bed 9am, dress immediately, blue jeans, A10 networks Tshirt picked up free at LONAP AGM, stripy fat face fleece top, thermal socks

2 weetabix and banana with semi skimmed milk for breakfast

tidy golf clubs away in utility room & put rucksacks used at center Parcs in cupboard. can only find one of my black gloves.

brush teeth & put swimming kit in bag for life

read a little of Vol 1 Gibbons Decline and Fall of Roman Empire purchased yesterday from Readers Rest on Steep Hill – closing down sale £40 for full set of 8 Folio Society  edition.

start prepping tonight’s beef stew – find we are out of garlic.

10.15 head out to Tesco for garlic, mushrooms and a turnip. also purchase thermal hat, gloves & scarf set for £6. only really needed the gloves. return to car to find previously lost glove. ah well

get beef in Guinness going on stove – finish by 11.10, put in oven on low heat & wash pots.

11.30 head out to buy John Adidas astro turf trainers. drop John off to play footy & finish up for lane swimming at Yarborough for 12.30

Fire flickers in the comfort of the hearth and all is quiet. The curtains are drawn on the world. Whisky evaporates by the glass. Another room coughs. The world is at peace.

v

v

v

v

v

v

v

v

v

v

v

v

v

Warring peoples settle centuries old scores and inter-marry. Marriages last a happy lifetime. Children remain obedient without dulling their sense of radicalism and change and perform well at school.  All religions agree to coexist happily. Nags Head wins the 3.30 at Epsom and beer is freely dispensed at all public houses. Lincoln City are promoted to the Premier League. 

Ok that last one was a dream too far.

As I was walking back to the villa from parking the car a man and his toddler were laughing together. For some reason it made me think back to a day on a beach when a similar sized toddler was walking behind his young mother counting his steps. She turned around and said “what are you counting for?”. Unlucky kid.

Purely coincidentally as I approached the end of the walkway a woman was stood in front of the car park sign with her little one. “Oo I don’t know where to go. Where is the car park?” she said. The child pointed and said look “c”, “a”, “r” spelling it out phoenetically. Lucky kid.

We were driving home from picking up at school. The rush hour traffic was building up heading out of Lincoln but that was ok as we were going in the other direction.

We passed a motorcyclist stationary in the queue running up to the roundabout at the bypass.  Actually he wasn’t stationary. His head was bouncing vigorously from side to side, obviously listening to some loud music. It wasn’t just his head. It almost felt as if his bike was bouncing up and down like a pogo stick.

In the car Radio2 was blaring out Bryan Ferry – Let’s Get Together. I wondered if he was listening to the same thing. We moved on…

A middle aged woman in a red anorak grasped the handrail and peered worriedly into the empty depths, her inner turmoil etched all over her face. As I swung my black bag into the skip marked ‘Household Waste’ she turned and, with an anguished voice, confided to me. “I just can’t do it…. I’m superstitious”. Walking off, she left the intact mirror and the seven years’ bad luck by the side of the skip for someone else to deal with.