Day 167: Inside Out

A day of serious weather.  Heavy, heavy rain.  Hail the size of peas.  And a storm against a bruised sky. 

Proper apocalyptic end-of-days thunder cracks.  The sort of forked lightning that could split boulders.  Birds are freaking out, startled by the electricity and the noise, directionless and flapping.  Nowhere to run to.   

I sit at home, looking out of the window like a cat.  With no intention of going outside, but very happy to watch the show.  Birds and all. 

Day 166: A Friend In Need

A panicky message from a very stressed friend leads to a rescue mission.  On his way to an all day job, he's shocked to realise that the content for the final session of the afternoon has been completely redesigned, and he has no time to prepare it.  I hear the utter lack of hope in his voice, as he asks in desperation whether I'm free and willing to come and run it for him.  Happily I am.  He is transformed - I've never heard anyone sound so grateful.  I leave the house wearing a cloak and pants over my tights (metaphorically - this client wouldn't consider that to be 'business dress').

On my way into London I realise that, in accepting this job, I cross a volume threshold that means this particular client will pay me at a higher rate for all the work I do for them next month. 

It is rare that you get the opportunity to help a friend, and the reward goes beyond feel good to hard cash.  I'd have done it for the first alone, but I'm not going to turn my nose up at the second.

Day 165: April Showers

Lots of rain.  Some of it cold and slushy.  Then a few flakes of snow, drifting softly across my windscreen.  I thought it was cherry blossom at first.  Blossom and snow may look very similar (small, light, white) but they move very differently. 

This was definitely snow.  I only saw about four flakes, but it still counts.  Snow in April.

Not a first.  It snowed in April when I was nine.  I was in my dad's car, with my friends Nicky and Sarah, on the way to Hever Castle.  But by the time we arrived, the snow had stopped, and the sun had come out. 

The gardens at Hever are full of statues.  Lots of Grecian nudes.  I spent a disproportionate time photographing marble bottoms with my new camera (plasticky and very basic).  Idiot.   

Day 164: Sacred Cows

Driving past junction 17 of the M25, I am struck by the arresting sight of a hillside of cows.  The sky above is blue, the grass below is bright green, and the cows are satisfyingly black and white. 

There is a graphic simplicity to a field of cows that cannot be underestimated.  Just looking at them makes my pulse drop and my horizons expand.   

Hooray for cows.

Day 163: Hard to Swallow

Lunch with a woman who has advanced Huntington's disease. Her central nervous system is shot.  She is in a wheelchair. She cannot control her movements. She cannot speak. She has huge difficulty swallowing. Her husband mixes thickening powder into her drinks, so they can be spooned into her mouth. Less likelihood of choking that way. He is unfailingly calm and kind. It is an appalling situation for both of them.

Feeling seedy and hungover today, but very aware of the immense privilege of normality - to have been able to spend an evening singing, dancing, talking, eating and drinking. Not to be taken for granted. Not today, anyway.

Day 162: First I Was Afraid

An evening spent bawling karaoke in Imperial China on Lisle Street, as one of a party of hens.  It follows a restrained day at the Royal Festival Hall, and a trip on the Duck (no penis balloons, L-plates or wedding veils, by order of the hen-in-chief).  However, as all Japanese businesses know, the combo of karaoke and booze is a great leveller, and any semblance of tastefulness evaporates the minute the first few bars of 'I Will Survive' kick in. 

Imperial China has lots of sound-proofed karoake rooms, all full of people submerged in noodles and noise.  Walking down the corridor to the toilets is brilliant - bursts of raucousness from each room as waiters emerge.  Freddie vs Spice Girls vs Wham.  There is no room for cool.  The camper the better. 

Leave hoarse and drunk, with my ears ringing.  The restaurant has a little curved bridge that leads to the street.  There are no trolls underneath.  Just a pond of big, fat koi carp.  In Chinese culture, carp symbolise strength and endurance.  These ones look very sluggish.  Exhausted by too much karaoke.  As am I.     

Day 161: High-def Idiot Savant

I need a camcorder.  Work purposes.  Spend some time this morning looking at techie comparison websites.  Soon I am overwhelmed with conflicting gadget reviews.  Give up and drive to PC World, where I am distinctly NOT overwhelmed.  There is one HD camcorder.  Literally.  The display model.  I am slightly nonplussed by the lack of choice/stock, but buy it (at negotiated discount).  Get it back home, and look at reviews online.  Accidentally I have bought a truly excellent camera.  And for £90 less than on Amazon.  I am an idiot savant.

Go to Boots to get a duplicate of a photo.  I've not been near a photo developing area for many years.  Digital camera and inherent sloth mean that all my photos are hidden on a hard drive, languishing in forgotten files.  Boots has gone all high-tech, and DIY.  There are customer nodes, which will accept your various media, and allow you to edit and resize at will.  Amazing.  You still have to go away for an hour, and then come back and collect your photos from a real person (a wait AND human interaction - unreasonable in 2012). 

I return at the given time, and the assistant selects a packet.  She opens it so I can check that it's mine.  There's only one photo (see left). 

She looks at me.  I look back.  I nod.  Nothing is said.  Exit.

That camcorder's landed on its feet with me.