There was no overtime at the Fish Factory today so I found myself at a little loss of what to do with myself. It's like being forced to slow down when you are going at a 100 miles an hour. Funny, there are times when I wish I had more time off, then when I get it I moan. So I took myself on a little walk, going to check out some stores and laptops. I'd like to buy one, one day but for now just look at them and get a sense of what is on the market. This investigative feeling tends to go away and come back again. For the time being my old and somewhat knackered PC is still working. It must be getting on for 7 or 8 years now. I'll buy it a birthday card and talk nicely so it can be nice to me. Which reminds me, I must back up the important data on it. The walk was enjoyable but it was freezing. After about ten minutes I began to lose feeling in my face. Fortunately if I get frost bite I'm sure it wont change the appearance too much. I got to the stores. Enjoyed a good walk around and practise type on the different keyboards then headed back the way I had come. It was still early in the day so I did some shopping. Managing to buy a shower gel for 50 pence. It was the cheapest one I could find. I am sure a few months ago I bought an even cheaper one. Don't matter. Time was going slowly which meant I couldn't immediately pop into my normal Chinese for lunch. I was doing my best to consciously hold back until mid day. There's something a bit presumptuous about having lunch before mid day. The thought of fermentable carbohydrates crossed my mind and to really change my diet. White rice is so nasty to me but I still eat it. In a delaying tactic as I had at least half an hour before mid day, I ambled around. In one time consuming moment I then decided to check out the post cards in a shop window.
I think about the late Peter Hitchin. I saw a documentary on him and one of the things it commented on was his ability to write up to three thousand words a day. Some going. In my wondering about book writing one point is quite salient. It's to write about what you know. Like the place you live in. Looking at these post cards in the shop window brought a realisation there is so much material around, it's just a matter of having your eyes open, ears open and absorbing it in. A walk down the road can provide more than enough material for a three thousand word essay. The only other thing is being in the right frame of mind to write those three thousand words. Sometimes it's not easy. Just as there are days when I fail to BLOG. It's because the day has been a repetition of the one before and it's as though nothing has happened. The reality would be the 'observer within' me has not been switched on. There's always things happening being attuned to them is what it is about. On these repetitive days I've been invaded by the priorities of work not the observations of the environment.
So I looked at the window. There were probably a couple of hundred post cards staring back at me. Many were for accommodation, rooms to be found within about three or four miles of the shop. I knew the areas they referred to and wondered if the rental prices were appropriate. One common adjective was the word 'nice' as though some rooms are not nice. Or some households are not. Such as "room to let in nice house, all inclusive only five minutes from train station." The inclusive bit does make me wonder. In the cold weather how long would the heating be kept on with the price of fuel bills I asked myself. A few cards were advertising the services of masseurs. One was not in a rush. They could well be coded messages for women selling more than just a massage. I thought of a pensioner I know who became a qualified masseur. What a surprise someone would get if they went to see him and there would certainly be no extra activities on the list. Another card caught my eye and took my attention. It said "generous employer looking for female assistant. Must be between 18 to 25 and size 8 to 14." I let out and audible laugh as I read it. This could only be a man, and what were his intentions, what was it he wanted these female assistants to do? I laughed more. It seemed like a measure of desperation covered by pseudo legitimacy. I expect only an 18 to 25 year old girl would be ignorant enough to think this was actually a genuine employer. The things not said are just as important as the things which are said. I read this in a book about body language, when interpreted correctly will give away more truths than what is actually spoken. Each post card has a story behind it. Each was written by hand, by a real human being and not printed off on a piece of paper. A number said one thing but meant another, behind them all there is a story.
We're expecting snow soon, which will be another story. Where's my postcards someone needs to know this?
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