Rosemary's back! I keep waiting for news of your moving, etc. I assume the move has not yet taken place, you moved that last time so quickly. I cannot fathom moving, they will have to bring in bulldozers, and just carry me out with the detritus. Talk about carbon footprint. I remember when we bought this farm and I said (famous last words) we'll never fill all this up (there's a barn which is a lot bigger than my old attic). I was wrong. hahaha
Tate! Last year waiting for Richard III to open with Mark Rylance at the Globe in London I made the serious error of going into the Tate Modern to kill time and thought, oh Damien Hirst's exhibit, why not? Haven't I heard about him? I thought I had, name seemed vaguely familiar.
Yes, well, apparently I had not heard enough. Never in my life, and I mean that, have i seen such an exhibit. Never again, either. But I love what they did with the Tube there, so easy to get to now, now we can see why Blackfriars has been closed so long. Love that entire scene, minus Hirst. (obsessed as he is with intestines, dead meat and flies). Could not believe people had brought children into that thing. Small children.
Interesting theme on the McCall book. I have never really understood why strangers on a train or in an airport or anywhere else in travel seem to feel the compulsion, the urgent need to tell their life's story to whoever they meet. I don't understand it, even waiting in line people seem to need to share who they are and all sorts of details nobody cares about. I worry I'm becoming an old curmudgeon. Or maybe am already. It drives me wild. He must travel a lot, because it happens everywhere and I laughed when you said The central premise is unconvincing - ie that four complete strangers would not only strike up a conversation, but would also each recount their entire life stories and - perhaps even less likely - that these would all be interesting rather than terminally boring.
Absolutely right. I've never understood that compulsion. That and the need to whip out the cell phone and say we've just landed on the tarmac. I'll call you back after we get into the airport. All over the plane you hear these loud conversations all saying the same thing. All right, already, we know, you've landed. Gosh what a culture we've become. (It's probably just me).
I will shut up after this one: once I actually heard (who could miss it) some poor soul in the boarding area frantically calling apparently everybody he had ever known, finally (he was pacing so we could all get the effect as he bellowed into the cell phone) he got the wife of somebody he met at one time, who had nothing to do with this current trip, and had to explain to her in excruciatingly embarrassing bellows who he was and where he was. Over and over. She seemed as confused with this information as we all were, and as reluctant to share it as we all were. I felt so sorry for him. He wanted so much to be in touch with somebody when he could have talked to the person next to him (on second thought, go ahead and tell XXX's wife who has no idea of who you are that you're about to take off, instead, and the plane was late). Joining the chorus was a woman sitting on the first row explaining to her captive audience by phone and by hearing that she could have sat in the first class lounge, smirk smirk, but she preferred to be out among the people. Smirk. And people wonder why there are cars on trains with a red slash thru a photo of a cell phone.
Gosh. I think I'll get the McCall Smith book and see if there's a lesson I can learn from this "sharing."
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