Bitch on the Blog

July 24, 2012


I hate being restricted. Physically. One of the reasons I don’t wear a watch. And when I did – many years ago – it was a lovely Gucci number: A bangle, not a tight wrist band.

If I need the time I either look at the computer or ask a stranger in the street. It’s a conversation opener if nothing else. People are not used any longer to being asked for the time. So you have their attention immediately. If only for the novelty value of them having to take their ear plugs out so they can hear the question. And communicate. And yes, I will try this in New York. To prove that, despite rumours to the contrary, New Yorkers too are open to new experiences (with strangers).

I do have a clock. In the lounge. Freestanding. Stylish. Wooden frame. A cube 12 cm x 12 cm. Simple face.

Before the day fills with noise there is the morning. Mornings are quiet. Other than the seagulls. Seagulls make a most frightful noise – always appearing to be in a state of alarm. Why can’t they sing like ‘normal’ birds or at least be quiet? And before you say anything, David, yes, I do know that penguins too are birds. Neither do they sing.

That clock. In the lounge. It will tick. Audibly. Relentlessly. Frightens the hell out of me – occasionally. Like now. Which is why I fled to my desk. Sometimes I think the reason people write music (particularly Beethoven) is to blend out the sound of a clock ticking. Give me a seagull any time. At least I know what the weather will be like.



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