it has been a very peculiar time. There is no denying that. And it is not just the confinement and the chaos as a result of Covid. There has been a lot of banging and drilling as the work goes on and on. I have complicated matters of course, by deciding to relocate the little nook I call 'my office' where I write this, to the attic. I am in pursuit of a bit of "leg room" and a better view of The Goosefield, to the sea and beyond. After 18 months of dust and disruption, I am very nearly spun out.
But not quite.
The main purpose of this blog post is to share with you a most glorious new video, made recently by two young men, just finishing college.
Sean Hart and Bill McHugh. recorded this on a sunny day in late April. The camerawork is remarkable and beautiful, and the sound recording is just simply, outstanding. (I am at heart, an old radio head). Even though I talk a lot of incoherent nonsense and don't finish many of my sentences, surprisingly, this doesn't take away from the video, which is a work of art.
Near the end, while telling a simple story, I leave out the punchline. Maybe the punchline is implied, and doesn't need to be said out loud, but to me it is a glaring omission (on my part . . . like the lads did not edit it out).
The story involves a medic who was asking me a load of questions, as he was puzzling how was it possible for ANYONE to accidentally cut their own big toe with a knife? In the whole time I was with him, he never looked at me once. I mean, he never looked at me in the eye. He was too busy bandaging my bleeding toe as he repeatedly asked, exactly how had I done the damage?
In telling my story I did not mention that to cut my right foot so effortlessly, I did, of course, use my left foot. That might have caused him to glance at me, but I never said it, and he never did and he packed me off, once he had finished admiring his own handiwork.
As I walked away, I was still puzzling as to why he kept asking me the same question. Was he asking it to ascertain my level of consciousness or comprehension? I hadn't banged my head, so his repeated inquiries made no sense.
As I hit the street and the cold November rain lashed my face, in a flash, I realised what had happened.
He never knew. Did I really have to spell it out? In my experience, yes, I really did, because someone that hell-bent
on figuring out the mystery of the bleeding toe, could not see what was right in front of them.
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