I was lying in bed this morning thinking, ooh me knee, ooh me ankle*, and generally thinking about random unassociated things including what kind of hats people wear in Canada in December, how to market internet dating sites, Catherine's mother doing a cat-splat into her French French windows, whether my rather beautiful 50s swing coat with dead fox round the neck has been destroyed by the Moth and what to have for breakfast, when something Sensational came on the Radio 4. (It was on at 8.20am. You'll have to scroll down the page a bit.)
Suddenly, I have a purpose. For History Matters want everyone to write a blog about what they did today, then the British Library will ARCHIVE IT FOR POSTERITY. That Sebastian Faulks was on talking about it, and giving it: yeah, like, the more rubbish the better, you know, like, maybe something INTERESTING will happen to you (no such luck, I thought), but what is Important about this is the minutiae: how you got to work, what you ate for breakfast, that sort of thing, for at some point in the distant future the idea of buying a flight on the line may be Insane as our air travel miles will be so regulated. And because People in the Future will have nothing to eat but cakes made of soya beans and blueberries, they will want to know about the Scrambled Eggs people ate for breakfast in the Olden Days. (I made that bit up but it's probably true.)
Then the other bloke said, Social History is History with the politics taken out, which I thought was good and quite funny. (Then I stopped listening for a bit and thought about doing a history MA because really it was always social history I liked the best: wars and that not that interesting; what kind of pants people wore: interesting).
Then I listened properly again and they were all being very funny, and I thought right then, I'll do that. Maybe you should too. Dunno, up to you really, but I thought I'd tell you about it in case you fancied it. And anyway, I know for a FACT that my descendants will want to know what kind of pants you wear.
* My left knee sometimes feels like it dislocates and I have to flick my leg until it pops. Yuk. My right ankle I fucked up jumping off a 15 foot wall in Bayswater in 1987; the left one I fucked up falling off an espadrille in France a few months ago. It is the left one I keep twisting again, and every time I twist it again I am reminded of someone I fell out with unexpectedly fairly recently, which makes me doubly cross and a bit sad.
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10 comments:
I'm guessing this was a wedge espadrille. Otherwise I think it would be quite difficult (though not impossible) to fall off...
Right, I'm off to tell the historians what pants I'm wearing...
I wasn't going to pollute the internet with my aimless rambling today BUT you've gone and changed that.
This is simply too good an oppotunity to miss. I must tell the British Library all about my pants.
I suppose they're only interested in BRITISH people's pants, as OTHER PEOPLE's pants (say, colonials still theoretically loyal to that dysfunctional family in Buckingham) are just not quite interesting enough. Right ? RIGHT ? Nobody cares what I had for breakfast, NOBODY ! Oh, the angst.
JB, don't be such a big baby. Nowhere on the site can I see 'colonials not allowed to enter'. The Future People won't care and anyway by then there will be no countries as we shall all live in enormous balloons in the sky tethered to the Galapagos Islands. And anyway you must write something; we think colonials are really sweet, and that includes the ones in the Americas.
(No-one cares what I had for breakfast either, but that doesn't stop me from telling them. (Muesli, cherry yoghurt, chopped banana, dried cherries, handful of seeds.))
In conclusion: D, JB and A - write about your pants. A future person may find it amusing.
Were your Red Wedges a souvenir from one of the Billy Bragg/Paul Weller-led tours of 86-87, which singularly failed to bring down Mrs Thatcher?
No, dear Frank, they cost 10 Euro from the supermarket. They were good, until they made me not walk anymore. Good gag though, I'll give you that.
I think I shall title my post:
"Life In The Colonies And The Pants We Wore"
What do you think? Will it fly?
Yes, I heard that about History Matters on the wireless this morning and will be writing my despatches later on their site. Luckily, I already had Important Things planned for today - including attending the resumption of a Public Inquiry, no less! - other than eating and sleeping and trying not to play Stack The Cats on the web.
I think they must have been talking on the same subject at about 12.45 when there was a phone-in. I listened for about 15 seconds and switched off irritatedly when a woman who claimed to have been a teacher said that the word 'history' means 'his story.' "No it doesn't" I snapped, aloud, and turned to Radio 3.
Juliness - it's a novel, my friend, a novel. Bloomers?
Indigo - public enquiry? did you slip on a banana skin in the council offices?
Clare - it's weird that, isn't it. But invariably for the best. Not the shoulder/knee thing, the falling out thing.
Z - I HATE that sort of nonsense. I am a Chairperson. No I'n not, I'm a Chairwoman. Well I'm not, but you get my point.
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