It’s raining today. I haven’t been for a walk. I’ve been brushing past the walls of the house, going from room to room.
I’ve completed a machine load of washing, watched the latest posts from Casey Neistat, Molly Burke and Doug Demoro. I’ve watched short reportage on what doctors in the United States think of the health care system there (universal healthcare would be better), on what Jammidodger thinks about being asked whether he has a penis or not (don’t ask him) and a sci-fi short called Good Business (was great).
I’ve read another section of Olga Tokarczuk’s book, Flights. I’ve completed a couple of challenges on FORZA Horizon before my ageing Xbox 360 crashed claiming it couldn’t read the disc (the game is saved onto the hard-drive via download).
I’ve rewatched an episode of Star Trek TNG where Crusher falls in love with an alien who sort of dies but then doesn’t. It’s not a favourite (Gates McFadden never really seemed to believe her character).
I went upstairs again to my room, tried to fix my tripod (I made it much, much worse) then opened this laptop I’m typing into now and stared at a blank WordPress draft for fifteen minutes.
Then a sound.
Our officious little spring-loaded letter box snaps shut. It’s probably jus…
Oh, a letter. In it I find a note from a friend and two bookmarks. Bought back in April, the laminated cards have been packed and unpacked in Cuba, Mexico, USA, Japan, China, New Zealand, Qatar and finally back to the UK where they eventually found themselves in a recycled envelope being brought back into the world with my face looking down.
For the first time since waking up, I smile. I cook a stodgy lunch (bought burgers in brioche buns with some home-made caramelised onions (there probably isn’t any other type) and curly fries, enjoying being fifteen again.
The rain has cleared and I walk out into the humid day, finding the library shut and the tourists thick on the ground. It’s okay, though. Somebody sent me a letter today.
We take communication easily; we’re in constant touch with everyone. Virtually connected to anywhere; we can see or hear anything we choose. We still value touch, though – just take a look at the recent increase in sales of vinyl.
Do me a favour. Sit down, pull out some scrap paper (you don’t need to buy new) do something with it and send it to somebody. I know they’ll love it.
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