Sunday, July 02, 2006

CF2 600 - Distortion - 29 MugOne problem with writing about people is that they might read it. And I can't say more because, well, it's complicated. Suffice to say part two is suspended, although it was only going to be about realising I paid too little at the cafe (but if they only charge me for normal sized drinks when we had two slightly differently sized large drinks...), hence the bewildered look when the other party then paid me for both drinks using the correct price, and the suggestion that let's not go back to that same cafe, and anything else I could find to write about, so perhaps the public information service aspects of standing round waiting (or even arranging things for those one is about to meet) or maybe my nervous decapitating of half the grass in St James's, but most likely it was going to be a rant about the folly of using London Underground to actually go anywhere (but it's alright at as a tourist attraction, what with the whole overpriced, overcrowded, overrated and back out half a block away an hour and a half later thing), which I'd only touched on before, and has now been inflated by this weekend. But as for going into other stuff, I'm not quite the complete idiot you take me to be.

Regarding the other main crux of complaints, the chin comment was tactless, so sorry. But I think over-reaction might be in play. I did say "slight" (ok, so "slightly" because I don't have an editor to remind me of errant endings, and I tend to have phases were every word comes out with an -ing or a -ly attached). And if that's the only thing which marks one out as fractionally different, be thankful (and look on it as the sole flaw included lest God be offended). By the way, genetically so am I*, and as this is from the man with "face like the launch of a thousand ships" (sometimes biting insults are so harsh that one almost wishes one had thought of them), I wouldn't worry.

* Did you not notice the "only an orthodontist could mess up teeth this badly" teeth? And for all those who think all British people* have bad teeth, bear in mind that we also have NHS orthodontics; just think of typical NHS glasses and you'll get the idea.

* A term Mr Nameless seems to like. Perhaps it's the external viewpoint which homogenises, but I've never really known who the British are (to certain Americans I've known it seems to mean "non-North American Native English Speaker", and thus Strine is a dialect of Gloucestershire), other than us generally, but then we're also all Europeans and Citizens of the World, even if we're not doing too well on the uniting.

And it would appear I am going for option A, although I'm not really sure what C includes.

But the thing which concerns me most (or at least digs deep into my notice), having reread the past post, is the double use of "realm" in close proximity. Careless.

So what else was there to write about? Wednesday was going to be Watch With Brother, consisting of the traditional Chinese three-down* restaurant experience, followed by an Orange 241 film, although there don't seem to be any worth it even at half price. Due to proximity this ranked higher than seeing whatever was on at the GLA (I think it was Doctor Strangelove, which I haven't seen and am not sure if it's more like Doctor Zhivago or Doctor No). Both of which were trumped by a free open air version of Figaro, which sounded like a good idea until I realised it would be a relay, and so watching television while sitting in the comfort of chewing-gummed stone (and probably being told to get off anywhere comfortable or with a good view because it was dangerous). And then I got an email reminding me about some departmental thing that evening, which had to take precedence, and then I got the time wrong anyway (17.30 versus 7.30). So Wednesday had the potential to be very busy, but wasn't.

* It's my system for not have the same each time.

Thursday was the long arranged and awaited Antony and Cleopatra at the Globe. Intended to be a mass event for people at the department, in the end so many people promised to go but would buy tickets later/on the day, that only two of us went (although it wasn't full, so they can't have sold out). How's that for being a social leader?

Anyway, I neglected to do the necessary reading beforehand, so was a little lost during the first couple of scenes, despite cribbing from the programme. But the Globe aims to be inclusive (I suppose if the audience is leaning on the stage one has to be), so it was enjoyable if not comprehensible (although I don't think I missed much). And it was played as a comedy, revelling in the lewd script.

So it was fun, especially watching the middle aged man leaning centre stage try to work out if Cleopatra had anything on under the gauze and whether he ought to be disgusted or pay a bit more attention (with woman, so feigned disgust while moving to get a better angle).

One problem with Elizabethan dress is the wide skirts. If one is standing at the side of the stage (I intended to get their before the doors opened, and instead got there twenty minutes before the play began. I'm not allowed to comment on why I was late), an ill placed minor character can completely obscure the view with a diverse range of lightly worn materials.

Then afterwards heading towards London Bridge, doing light photography along the way, using a borrowed camera. The friend looked back towards the Millennium Bridge strung with lights and asked if I could get it. She reaches in her bag get the camera out, and as she lifts the case it makes a bid for freedom, aiming for the cobbles from a height which closely matches that which killed my Sigg bottle (apparently aluminium tears quite easily if dropped when full of water from 3 ft. Ok, so it had been dropped just few thousand times before and had been shedding coloured plastic for years, and there are only a couple of very small holes in the metal. Besides which, do Evian bottles carry on working for 8 years, despite numerous hills, cliffs, mountains, anchors and one fast moving set of tent poles? And my brother is on about his third, having a tendency to lose them overboard [along with flip flops someone moved to on top of the stacked spinnaker. My brother was the bowman, so at least he didn't spend time searching for them afterwards]).

She picks it up, hands it to me in the expectation that I know what I'm doing. I turn it on. The lens whirs out, the lights come on, the screen lights up in a Bridget Riley way. Bridget Riley: not good. Bridget Riley with superimposed liquid blobs in different colours, looking like the edge of an oil slick: oh dear. I think the screen's had it.

And of course, it's quite funky, so I want to take a picture of it. Anyway, I try to take the pictures the friend wanted, but it's literally a case of point and shoot (and hope) as I can't see what it's doing, and it's just as well I can turn the flash off without thinking how to do it.

By Southwark Cathedral I discover the viewfinder zooms, which confuses me as it's not through the lens, but does make photographs easier. So know the digital camera has been remade as an aged camera, albeit one with a permanent autofocus and autoexposure system. If anything, it's one way to learn about framing and composition, as that's all you can change, and you can't just delete the mistakes and reshoot.

So expect even less Flickrage, at least until my parents remember I want to cash in ungiven past birthday and Christmas presents.

And so to Friday, which I still haven't recovered from, so I'll leave it for a while, and may just happen to go back to bed instead.


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