where art collides philosoperontap

click here for part 5

It’s six am on a Sunday in October and I am up and sitting in the kitchen. I thought I’d write some poetry but I have disruption going on inside my head. I keep mentally humming the tune “In the wee small hours of the morning, when the while wide world is fast asleep”. In fact I lie awake and think of all the girls and never ever think of counting sheep.

It is as if I have noise pollution going on in my brain. This isn’t an excuse for writer’s block. I imagine that where that is concerned there is nothing going on in there. I fancy a cup of tea but in thirty minutes or so I will be making a pot to take up toAnne so I’m not sure. The kettle is on now anyway. Strange but the kettle is quite noisy and all of a sudden that noise has replaced the song in my head.

I am not in control. I feel as if I should be able to dictate what goes on in my mind but outside factors are interfering. The kettle changes its tune as the water warms up. Good job it doesn’t have a whistle or the whole house would be woken up when it boils. It is very satisfying to hear it get to boiling point though and then that final click as it switches itself off. Then of course there is the period of calm as the tea brews followed by a decision making process going on inside the head. Is it ready to pour yet? Decisions, decisions. We are always having to make them.

It is a very uncluttered world at this time of day. There is nobody around either physically or in the virtual world. Twitter goes for a long time without any new tweets in the stream. Only my own. I compare it to walking down the high street in Lincoln on a Saturday morning and meeting no one. Weird. A bit like the day of Princess Diana’s funeral. There was hardly anyone about. They were all in watching the TV.

It’s quite strange really, especially if you are someone who is a natural communicator. Only yourself to communicate with. Imagine being in solitary confinement. You have the whole internet to play with but there is nobody else out there. No interactive online gaming, nobody changing Facebook status. 5 billion people have disappeared overnight and the only person left is you. Why? Where have they all gone? Do they know something that you don’t? Worrying!

I just checked Facebook. There are 4 friends online. Three in the UK and one in Californeye-a. I suspect that their statuses have just not changed.

The tea has brewed. The sound of the cup filling changes as I pour more tea into it.

The imaginary world where everyone has gone missing changes as the day grows older. People wake up and begin to change their status. If would be interesting if presence status included things like “just got married” or “just woken up” or “just got £10 richer because the 3.30 at Ascot just came in”. These should happen automatically without your input. In fact your avatar would change as you changed.

This probably has some advantages and disadvantages. Decisions about what to wear get easier. You put something on and look at the avatar to see if the jumper matches the trousers. You might also however spot that the trousers are getting too tight and that you need to go out and buy a bigger size. Or go on a diet – take your pick. Am I your mother? This isn’t a fool proof process however. I wouldn’t know whether a jumper matched a pair of trousers anyway so it only works for some people.

Information break – I have here written 635 words in 29 minutes – end of information break. Period.

I’m down to two online friends now. The Californian has gone. The Brit has either gone back to bed or has left early to open up the church and put out the hymn books. More likely the former but don’t knock the hymn books bit. It pays to be well prepared. Picture the scene where a coach turns up and the normally half empty church suddenly fills to overflowing with a busload of pilgrims on their way to Canterbury who upon realising the time decide to stop and attend a church service. None of them have brought their own hymn books. You don’t take a towel when you stay at a hotel do you? Anyway they all turn up unannounced. The vicar is delighted but there is a bit of a panic because there aren’t enough hymn books out for everyone. Understandable. It’s the same number of people most weeks so Doreen who puts them out usually knows exactly how many she is going to need plus a few extra just in case.

Well this time the few extra just isn’t enough. Come on Doreen get a move on we have customers. Doreen has to rush into the vestry to open the other cupboard. Those books haven’t been used for years. The dust goes flying everywhere but does Doreen care. Of course not. She is a pro. Approaching the line of patiently waiting pilgrims comes this pile of Hymn books, moving as if by themselves. What we can’t see is the diminutive Doreen hidden underneath and behind. She is a superwoman, her strength drawn from her deeply held religious beliefs.

The service went well. The visitors contributed voluminously to the singing. The regulars were pleased to see some new faces and afterwards over coffee the visitors regaled everyone with tales of pilgrimages past. When at last everyone had got back on the coach and had been waved off Doreen and the vicar turned to each other and sighed the deep sigh of a job well done.

As she turned to face the washing up Doreen realised with horror that they had just used up the next 4 weeks supply of biscuits. Never mind there would presumably be enough in the collection plate this week to buy some more.

The vicar went back inside to count up the collection. A couple of metal washers, two Euro cents, a souvenir penny from Skegness Butlins and an IOU promising to replace the money that had been “borrowed” next time they could make it to a cashpoint.

click here for part 7