Day 353, No more wires, sort of

Well, no.  Not actually.

Most of the day spent under the desk, moving and labelling cables, has proved effective.  The number of cables there now are less than before.

And they're identifiable.

Yes, less.

Now my feet actually go under there too.

The tidying of the under-desk world has revealed nothing unusual.  Just things that can be binned, boxed, or put on ebay.

The slow build up of this detritus was imperceptible.

Bit by little by day by week.

Slowly and slightly moving the boundary of what is acceptable.

Like the addict and their gradual need for an increase in dose to achieve the same, yet more brief, effect.

Until the brain needs a reset, and some reflection - oh look, what a mess.

Or in the case of the addict, the gradual unnoticed reduction in quality of their crutch of choice until the dealer surprises them to death one day with a dose of great purity.

The hit of adrenalin brings the world back to focus.  Bloody hell, look at all the fluff and dust, get the hoover.

Here's a picture of what still appear to be a lot of wires, except now with a large measure of added and improved organisation.

We need a hit of adrenalin to wake people up to what this fuck awful government are doing to the most vulnerable too.  That's a cobbled together bit to appease my feelings about what hasn't been written about above - inequality, poverty, the austerity-myth.



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Day 352, Leave me alone, bugger off

There I am, marching about looking for items of interest, when some fool points a camera at me.

Honestly, what can you do these days.  Half the time it'll be a camera on a phone, they have no shame.  Stalking us while we get on with the important stuff.

Peck.

They obviously don't have anything better to do.  Can't they just leave those psychological tests lying around for us to play with, it makes me laugh how they fall for it every time.

Caw.

Peck.

We know what they're after and why they're doing it, pity the sparrows never play along though.

Caw.

Anyway, bugger off.

Peck.

Strut, strut.

Peck.

I'm busy.

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Day 350, Centre Pompidou, you big metal thing you

I like it, a handful of people don't.

It's a big rectangular box with a lot of the structure visible externally.

Glass, metal, plastic, pipes, all there, live an' direct, comin' at ya with a boldness that says "et après?"*.

The let down is those railings in the foreground.  They appear to be an afterthought, chucked in when there were only 35 Francs left in the budget.

*Slang: so what?; what of it?

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Day 349, Let's go to Scalpay, quite near Harris

Way up in the Outer Hebrides, where the weather is always black and white, there are islands.

Super-sized coracles, more commonly a Welsh or Irish mode of transport, are used to travel between the isles.  These coracles, known by the local name CalMac, are substantial metal constructions with electricity, beer, and television.

Electricity, beer and television are essential on some of the longer journeys.

The treacherous trip from Harris to Scalpay is one where you may take advantage of the above luxuries, who knows how long it may take to traverse the 300m distance between these isles.

Well, it used to take about 15 minutes, but if the weather was bad it could take very nearly up to 20.

Perhaps that's why, in 1997 to remove the onerous delays, they built a bridge.



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Day 348, LED cuts the mist

It's 5:50am.  There is some mist and a vague chill in the air.  The sort of time I used to roll home after a night out.

Today there are no foxes.

No visible bats.

There is the odd blackbird.

LED street lights attempt to cut through the gloom.  It doesn't appear to be a promising start to the day.

But this is no pathetic fallacy.  All delicate work proceeded smoothly, the sky cleared and the sun came out.  Maybe not a hot summer day but a pleasant one nonetheless.

Then home, after being filmed at the GP surgery.  Inexplicable back pain is clearly a highly attractive prospect for the purposes of training.  The film will be on limited general release and destroyed after a period of 12 months, the dialogue is excellent let me tell you, and you won't have seen a back as hairy as that since the last time.

If anyone has been affected by any of the issues referred to in this blog then please send cash immediately.


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Day 347, No fear, no thought, no footsteps

Sometimes just walking down a road is enough.

Each step an exercise in movement, not of travel.

The world is turning under your feet, yet we are stationary other than the pendulum motion of legs.

Are we there yet?

No, we aren't going anywhere.  Not for years.

And there is no need.  Inaction is enough.  It's done.

While our remnants return to take the living.

A foreign field

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Day 346, How's that listed Georgian building coming along?

Not entirely convinced this is how the Georgians would have constructed the original building.

I expect the barriers to stop urchins falling to their demise aren't really an idea they would have been familiar with given the unlimited supply of cheap labour.

And RSJs, not really their thing as the first one used in a building wasn't until 1901 - for info it's in Bessemer House on Carlisle Street East, Sheffield.

It looks more like a giant greenhouse at the moment, and still some time away from the walls returning.


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