To the cinema for the ridiculous new Sherlock Holmes film. What it lacks in storyline, it makes up for in character, verve and looks. Particularly taken with Sherly's 'Urban Camouflage' - absurd trompe l'oeil romper suits, allowing the wearer to seamlessly blend in with the background.
How useful would that be? Obviously, the trompe l'oeil element limits movement - a shift of an inch, and you're out of register. But an excellent concept. And you don't actually need the suit. It's more of a choice.
Today in the cinema, there were several people who chose NOT to blend in. The man in the front of me - the human equivalent of an English bull terrier. Checking his text messages every five minutes, the bright light from his little screen pulling focus in the darkness. After the third time, I asked him politely to turn it off. At the fifth time I kicked his chair. He turned round, all aggressive and steroidy. I played dumb, as if the kick had been entirely accidental. I realised his agenda and mine had no shared business. Pick your battles wisely (and not with a bull terrier...).
Then the couple some way behind and to the right. Who discussed the film throughout. Not loudly, but a constant stream of chat, especially after any action sequence. Like they were in their own home, watching a DVD. And the man behind me, to the left. Two hours solid crunching and rustling. Twenty minutes before the end of the film, he went out and came back with another tray of nachos and a drink. Lest there be a single minute of on-screen action unaccompanied by snackage. Horrifying but strangely impressive. But maybe he can only see and hear when he's eating.
A couple of years ago I went on a bushcraft course. (Yes, I know. Believe.) Right at the start, the woodland guru, a sort of Vice-Ray Mears, told us to go off and sit by ourselves in the forest for ten minutes. When we returned, a little non-plussed, he explained that this is how long it takes the environment to settle around you, once you've crashed your way in. The first five minutes will be - whether you are conscious of it or not - full of alarm calls and tension. Until slowly, the sense of threat ebbs, and the forest relaxes into its natural state, accepting your presence. And in sitting still for ten minutes, you also become aware of what's around you, rather than purely focusing on where you're going, getting through brambles, finding a sweet in your pocket etc.
I like the ten minute rule. If you are in a new situation - physical or emotional* - just to exist in it as an observer, and see what happens, rather than thrashing about/distracting yourself/buying nachos. For ten minutes. It's not long - but at the same time it is. (It's one of those Brian Cox things - the way you use the time expands or contracts it, and now my head has exploded.)
(*Obviously this rule should not be applied in critical situations - bull terrier attack/house fire etc).
Off to search for a trompe l'oeil romper suit.
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