PCAS 2011/12

Here we all are at the Canterbury Museum. My grandfather's crockery is in a glass case to the left of the picture. I had a dozy day yesterday because of not having gone to bed when I should've on Thursday night. I got engrossed in sorting out my technology - camera and zoom sound recorder, with their various batteries... Discovered I don't have the wherewithal to upload images from my 'phone. This is a good spur to getting used to using a camera again. It's been a long time. I gave it up because I didn't want to live my life through a viewfinder and I find myself still a bit resentful of the chivvying I'm getting to take pictures. I know it's churlish of me, but the communication of this experience is something I don't yet know how I want to do. I had a look at Twitter earlier. There are 3 people following me and I haven't even posted anything yet! What's that about? I could work up the sulk and then expound on the double-bind knot of it maybe. Begin with, "I don't want to tell anybody anything", then write down, "Begin with, "I don't want to tell anybody anything"," then what? I'd hate it if no-one was interested... and I wonder if there is any value in most of my life where I'm, for example, sitting on the bus, looking out the window, not communicating anything to anyone, when so very much stress is placed on communicating. I was moved, in the Canterbury Museum, to see an incredible "coracle" cobbled together from bits of driftwood, in which a couple of chaps were planning to escape from an island on which they'd been shipwrecked, along with everything they'd made on the island. I'm not sure if I got the story right, because I was too sleepy for anything yesterday, but I think they got rescued just when they were about to launch their improbable coracle and the museum curator chanced to be on the rescue boat, so brought everything back. I was moved to see that they had chiselled out letters in various media, communicating their situation, not just with the hope of being rescued, but it seemed to me, with an urge to communicate for its own sake. The intricacy struck me. If it had been just for rescue, then "Help, stuck on such-and-such island" would've sufficed, launched on many bits of wood, not the detailed and beautiful engravings they had actually made. Maybe I missed something. I miss too much, that's for sure.