Small Things

Taps

You know that you know a place if you can remember the intricacies of its taps. At my accommodation in Cambridge, I know that the sink tap is hyper-sensitive, and that opening it a supposedly reasonable amount results in a torrent of water that will cover the entire room with a universal dew. I know which taps at home stick and which don’t. I know that in the tap under the library at Christ’s, the drip tray is liable to overflow. At Sevenoaks School in Kent, where I have sometimes been to rehearse with NYMT, I know that there is a water dispenser where one tap dispenses faster than the other, and where turning on this tap will slow the flow of the other, which is useful if you are in a cup-filling race.

Wit

Wit is the combination of intelligence and humour.

It is highly prized, but it is also dangerous for its possessor.

For wit, unless you are on Would I Lie to You, is ephemeral; it is there, and then it disappears forever.

I cannot remember the ‘witty’ remarks I made yesterday, or even today.

Witty is quick. Witty lacks substance. Witty has to be reasserted constantly; witty is always in the past.

You can portray yourself as a ‘witty’ person; but if you do, you are constructing a personality which is as stable as a house of cards.

Besides, as anyone who tries to be witty regularly knows, you are only successful 2 times out of 10.

Weight

Someone who I shall not name (but who may well be reading!) recently described me as having become ‘Romanesque’. Because of my own congruent observations and because I am not a Classicist, this process of labelling spurred me on to further action, and I am now in the latest of my many unsuccessful health/weight kicks.

No more mayo for me; no more alcohol either. I’m also steering clear of chocolate, and in general looking for healthy options whenever I eat. Today (I’m on holiday) I’ve avoided having a slice of cake, an ice cream and a jaffa cake bar, amongst other things. I can’t get back into running yet though, because I still have an annoying throat infection, so boo hoo to me.

People

There is nothing more annoying than people policing other people’s behaviour.

­Rest

My aunt observed today that I seemed often to have colds, but I told her that it was just that I always seemed to be ill on holiday. This I think is because I often end up going on holiday straight after big bursts of work, and I always seem to fall ill after I draw back from an intense period of work.  

But there are more intractable questions than the cold. It’s the lack of direction which is more difficult. As I think is common, I always find it difficult to know how to relax constructively. That sounds like a total oxymoron – ‘relax constructively’ – but it’s true; it often feels like I’m just marking time instead of actually ‘relaxing’. It’s very frustrating.

So you come up with things that are more ‘constructive’ to do, because you enjoy them or because they help you towards some long-term goal. Running feels constructive. Watching films – the right films, and maybe any films – is constructive. Writing is constructive, and reading is hard, but constructive.

Connecting with other people is the most constructive thing, and the hardest of all of the above.

Age

Growing up is like going backstage at the theatre.

I didn’t see the costume rack before; but now I see the hours drained away on gel-stiff hair, on red lips and filed nails, on trimmed beards and thinned waists.

I didn’t see the props deck either; but nowadays I spot the glasses held tight at parties, such that the knuckles flare white and smile stays bright and fixed.

I didn’t see the extended metaphors until they’d already gone too far, and become absurdly overstretched.

But you get the idea.  

Anger

Do not talk for those who you wish to count as your friends. Let them speak for themselves.

It’s fascinating how many obscure and obscurely-directed messages of anger and disdain there were towards other people on Facebook during my teens (like ‘You don’t understand how I really am. I’ll show you you nasty person you’). Historians will have a field day with Facebook.

Writing about anger is cathartic, but it’s not cathartic enough. Musical Theatre does not have enough *angry* songs.

Oh, alright then, just one more anonymised message of anger from me: I love you Mr. Smart-Ass, but don’t expect a thanks if you don’t have the courtesy to actually respond to any of the things that I said and meant in the message that I sent to you. Yeah, you know who you are. Ya punk.

Responses

Writing a blog is not like writing a diary. Writing a diary is about reflecting. Writing a blog is too, but it’s also about starting conversations. I wish more of these posts resulted in new conversations, because words (as with all things, to counter somewhat one of my posts from two weeks ago) only mean so much if don’t act as a bridge between yourself and other people.

Plants

I cannot name a single plant.

I like gardens, but I feel I would like them more if I knew the names of the plants, and some stuff about them.

Should I learn the names of all the plants in the world?

‘Wisdom’

The more I think about it, ‘the grass is always greener’ is a catastrophically pessimistic view of life. We are locked inside a pit of relative disappointment, the idiom cries.

But the truth is that the grass is not always greener on the other side. I know for a fact that my grass at Christ’s College is greener than any I have seen in Oxford, and that will always be true.

Yum

I’ve recently been criticized for going ‘Mm-mm’ when I eat.

However, I find that when I don’t make this noise the food doesn’t taste as good.

Is it possible for pscyological reasons that ‘Mm-mm’ improves the taste of the food?

Does this principle extend to other areas of human activity?

Do you catch more fish if you say ‘Mm-mm’ while fishing?

Would wars be more easily won if we said ‘Mm-mm’ in time with the gunfire? Should we say ‘yummy!’ in time with heavy artillery?

Sleep

Good night.

RJLF