Friday 30 September 2016

#166 Some statements

It isn't completely shallow to appreciate beauty. The thought alone doesn't always count. Great minds sometimes think differently from one another. Being happy might not always be the most important thing in life. What doesn't kill us can weaken us.

The early bird might be too early, the first step might be the easiest, still waters can be shallow. Revenge can be sour. All that ends well is not all well.

It isn't necessarily rude to point or stare. Honesty can be a lousy policy. The pounds aren't guaranteed to take care of themselves. Our entitlement to our opinions is questionable. Conspiracies do happen. 

Sunday 18 September 2016

#165 Interference

On my way back from East Dulwich on Saturday morning, as I walked through the park, I noticed a conker sitting on the ground. Surprised by the beauty of it, I picked it up and carried it on my way.

After a time, the thought occurred to me that such a splendid conker should grow into a magnificent tree. Looking down, I saw a small hole, not much larger than a golf ball and about as shallow. "That place would be just right for my conker" I thought to myself. I placed the conker in the hole.

Nearby was a clump of muddy grass. "This grass might make a cover for the hole" I thought to myself. Nudging the grass with my foot, I moved it towards the hole until it covered the conker. I took a step back, surveying the scene.

Something wasn't right. The clump, which was mostly old grass, held together by very little mud, didn't quite seem like it would offer the conker enough protection and nutrients for it to flourish. Did conkers even need protection and nutrients?

I began to realise that I was out of my depth. I didn't know how or where conkers needed to be planted. Had I given my newest friend a head start or set him back in life? Should I try and bury it deeper? Maybe it wasn't my call.

I bent down and removed the conker from its hiding place. It was covered in dirt. I tried to get some of it off with a leaf but it wasn't proving effective, so I rubbed it with the front of my tshirt until it was shiny like when I'd found it.

It seemed quite possible by that point that nature knew better than me about what should happen to conkers. Realising this, I placed the conker back on the ground, in a similar place to that in which I'd found it.

Had I learned anything from what I'd done that morning? Had the conker? Did it matter?

Sunday 11 September 2016

#164 Curry

"Dhansak?" the waiter asked, completing the order that I couldn't quite seem to get out of my mouth. It was about nine o'clock and the couple of extra hours I'd spent staring at a screen could've been taking their toll but I also had my reasons for being hesitant. For one thing, Lime curry house on the Isle of Dogs doesn't have a great range of hot dishes on its menu.

No ceylon, no naga, nothing unusual. It you weren't up for a madras or vindaloo, you inevitably end up in boring old medium lentil city, so that was where I was headed. Or so I thought. The first thing I noticed when the food arrived was its colour. The chicken sat in a dark, heavy orange sauce, unlike the yellowy mixtures of other dhansaks I'd had. Curious, I took a forkful and started the meal.

Fire and sorcery. The peppers danced around my mouth, creating a simultaneous urge to reach straight for the lager and straight for another forkful. Beads of sweat formed around my brow and my attention turned to the other customers, to the waiters. Had they noticed? Would my battle with the chillies disturb them as they mindlessly consumed their tikka masalas, while talking about Trump and house prices?

I looked back at the dhansak. "Well nobody else is going to eat this" I thought to myself. I gave a nod to the waiter as he passed to show everything was ok. Dinner had been served.