The real reason that we lower our eyes on the tube, avoiding eye contact as well as one can, is likely due to the scarring etched on our eyes from the evening before.
Sitting opposite and along the carriage probably sits a dishevelled middle-aged man, an impeccably styled younger man and a young jogging trouser clad woman furrowing with their index fingers or thumbs into that lump just beneath their eyes.
I'd previously thought the tendency to look elsewhere was due to the fear of being seen as a voyeur; or perhaps it was a fear of spotting the morning's terrorist. But no. This fear descends on those not wishing to messily waste a satisfying breakfast, and on those who wish to live in happy ignorance in regards to the cleanliness of the seat they are comfortably sitting on.
The public nose pickers come out in full voracity at night. Possibly they have felt a keen build-up of the city's pollution and are eager to rid themselves of the mild discomfort. Possibly they think that because there are fewer people on the train they are less likely to be seen, or may be seen by fewer people. Or it could be that quality that one finds endearing in children, but much less so in those over 10 years of age: if they can't see another person, that person will not see them.
A friend of mine once said to me in a very matter of fact way that everybody picks their nose "and I don't care what anybody says to deny it". I am inclined to agree. Even if it's not an all encompassing habit, I think it's fair to say that everybody indulges in being a little bit gross. But usually the 'indulgence' is carried out with discretion.
Consequently, one question begs to be answered: why not wait a further few minutes until the office or home has been reached in order to do the necessary in private? Perhaps even with a convenient tissue.
Thursday 9 December 2010
Saturday 30 October 2010
Something Hideous
As I turned a page in the November issue of Elle magazine, I recoiled. There, in all it's clumpy vulgarity, a pair of Ugg boots. Why would one recoil at such a common sight? They were adorned with gold and silver coloured studs, precisely scattered all over, from top to toe, invading the page on the feet of a blonde lovely sitting atop a pristine motor bike. The new biker boot.
The Ugg boot: in partnership with Jimmy Choo.
What a move. To take an already too-expensive pair of common, hideous footwear to the height of ridiculousness, by adding an extra £530 to the price tag. Yes, on net-a-porter they cost £695. But the really funny thing, I've just noticed, is that they've sold out on this site. Who bought these boots?!
Presumably, if one has that money to spend on footwear, they have the money to spend it on something tasteful. How about a pair of Louboutin's instead?
I cannot deny that they're comfortable, warm and cosy, but what's wrong with a pair from Primarni? Ok, so there is no label featured on a pair of Primark boots, but they still have the cosy factor, I understand. All look absurd, making people with tree trunks for legs look even tree-chunkier, and those with skinny legs look like kittens trying to walk with lion-sized paws. A mistake.
So once again, an uber tacky looking, over priced creation by the designers at Jimmy Choo.
The Ugg boot: in partnership with Jimmy Choo.
What a move. To take an already too-expensive pair of common, hideous footwear to the height of ridiculousness, by adding an extra £530 to the price tag. Yes, on net-a-porter they cost £695. But the really funny thing, I've just noticed, is that they've sold out on this site. Who bought these boots?!
Presumably, if one has that money to spend on footwear, they have the money to spend it on something tasteful. How about a pair of Louboutin's instead?
I cannot deny that they're comfortable, warm and cosy, but what's wrong with a pair from Primarni? Ok, so there is no label featured on a pair of Primark boots, but they still have the cosy factor, I understand. All look absurd, making people with tree trunks for legs look even tree-chunkier, and those with skinny legs look like kittens trying to walk with lion-sized paws. A mistake.
So once again, an uber tacky looking, over priced creation by the designers at Jimmy Choo.
Saturday 9 October 2010
Re-Kindling an Old Pastime
What is wrong with a good book?
I nearly wrote 'good old fashioned book', and therein lies the problem. Old fashioned. In a world where even before the autumn season has begun, the spring/summer fashion week for the following year has been and gone; the iPhone is constantly updated so that Apple produces the 'latest version' a couple of times per year; and car manufacturers undergo a similar updating process on a similar frequency to the Apple products. Perhaps the book is just too... well, old.
And so here we have the Kindle. I haven't tried this device, I can't offer sound critique of the Kindle, how usable it is, how compact it is... but, sitting in front of a computer all day and reading and editing copy is an action that I am familiar with. And my eyes don't like it. Constantly trying to readjust to the light levels, the altering fonts, and the distracting text from advertisements or computer reminders are some of the things that our eyes just don't seem to cope with very well. I now need glasses. Boo hiss.
However, a promotional article on 'boygeniusreport.com' assures me that the "electronic paper display [...] looks and reads like real paper", and that it is "easy on the eyes" in bright daylight. For the sake of argument, let's say that this promotion is written as truth, and that it is no less comfortable or harmful to use than a book is. The qualities that it will never succeed in delivering are those that only a hard copy can.
Think of the smell of a new book. When the pages are tight, crisp and neat, and that familiar smell oozes freshness. You are the first to touch this book, the first to delve into these particular pages and to lose yourself to the mind of the author and narrator. And the sound? The sound of a turning page; flipping it over to escape further or to learn more, feeling the story in your hands.
A friend of mine values the tactile quality of reading a book or a newspaper, the creases and the folds of the pages are part of the process of being involved in the text. Like Huxley's "feelies" in his Brave New World, the overwhelming sensation of feeling what you are viewing is the aspect that really hooks you. The aspect that has emotive power. You can view a screen just fine, but without the sensation of smelling the object, feeling the creases as you turn a page, and even hearing the movement, you are somewhat disjointed from the process, and remain aloof to the tale being told.
Consequently, attention wanders, and the reader moves on. The value of the text diminishes, and the next task or hobby is picked up. This seems to be part of the package of the Kindle. The marketers/creators recognise the decreasing attention span of the modern person who has a faster pace in life than ever before, and one of their advertisements that I have seen focuses on speed. Something along the lines of: think of a book and be reading it in 60 seconds. Bored? Think of another book and be reading this one in 60 seconds? Bored again so quickly? Download a magazine in 60 seconds! Here. Now. I want it.
The book, on the other hand, is about slowing down. Taking some time to enjoy the solitude, to appreciate the work and to feel. Not only this, having this book on your shelf, the one that you've finished, becomes a photograph. And like photographs, they hold memories and reminders of something that has passed. That spine that sits on your shelf is a symbol, a snapshot, of something that you were once involved in, invested time in; and in this fast-paced world of business and money making, surely this snapshot is something to be treasured?
I nearly wrote 'good old fashioned book', and therein lies the problem. Old fashioned. In a world where even before the autumn season has begun, the spring/summer fashion week for the following year has been and gone; the iPhone is constantly updated so that Apple produces the 'latest version' a couple of times per year; and car manufacturers undergo a similar updating process on a similar frequency to the Apple products. Perhaps the book is just too... well, old.
And so here we have the Kindle. I haven't tried this device, I can't offer sound critique of the Kindle, how usable it is, how compact it is... but, sitting in front of a computer all day and reading and editing copy is an action that I am familiar with. And my eyes don't like it. Constantly trying to readjust to the light levels, the altering fonts, and the distracting text from advertisements or computer reminders are some of the things that our eyes just don't seem to cope with very well. I now need glasses. Boo hiss.
However, a promotional article on 'boygeniusreport.com' assures me that the "electronic paper display [...] looks and reads like real paper", and that it is "easy on the eyes" in bright daylight. For the sake of argument, let's say that this promotion is written as truth, and that it is no less comfortable or harmful to use than a book is. The qualities that it will never succeed in delivering are those that only a hard copy can.
Think of the smell of a new book. When the pages are tight, crisp and neat, and that familiar smell oozes freshness. You are the first to touch this book, the first to delve into these particular pages and to lose yourself to the mind of the author and narrator. And the sound? The sound of a turning page; flipping it over to escape further or to learn more, feeling the story in your hands.
A friend of mine values the tactile quality of reading a book or a newspaper, the creases and the folds of the pages are part of the process of being involved in the text. Like Huxley's "feelies" in his Brave New World, the overwhelming sensation of feeling what you are viewing is the aspect that really hooks you. The aspect that has emotive power. You can view a screen just fine, but without the sensation of smelling the object, feeling the creases as you turn a page, and even hearing the movement, you are somewhat disjointed from the process, and remain aloof to the tale being told.
Consequently, attention wanders, and the reader moves on. The value of the text diminishes, and the next task or hobby is picked up. This seems to be part of the package of the Kindle. The marketers/creators recognise the decreasing attention span of the modern person who has a faster pace in life than ever before, and one of their advertisements that I have seen focuses on speed. Something along the lines of: think of a book and be reading it in 60 seconds. Bored? Think of another book and be reading this one in 60 seconds? Bored again so quickly? Download a magazine in 60 seconds! Here. Now. I want it.
The book, on the other hand, is about slowing down. Taking some time to enjoy the solitude, to appreciate the work and to feel. Not only this, having this book on your shelf, the one that you've finished, becomes a photograph. And like photographs, they hold memories and reminders of something that has passed. That spine that sits on your shelf is a symbol, a snapshot, of something that you were once involved in, invested time in; and in this fast-paced world of business and money making, surely this snapshot is something to be treasured?
Saturday 11 September 2010
The Man in the Assistance Box
It is difficult to describe the joy that I feel when somebody chooses to say 'Excuse me, please', rather than 'Coming through!' or remaining mute and simply making use of one's elbows aggressively on their way off of the London underground tube. I smile in delight and wonder if anybody else has witnessed this almost miraculous event, and wonder, too, if others share this delight.
Conversely, let me try to explain the disgust that I feel when the busy train pulls up at a platform, and a clump of people do not wait for those on the train to get off first. Where does this rudeness come from?! Not to mention the idiocy. Surely it's clear that stepping onto a busy train at the same time that others wish to get off, all within very limited space, is not conducive to comfort or efficiency?
But of course saying something to the rude offender means that some rules of etiquette have been breached, and one ironically becomes an equal offender of politeness. Traditionally, one who has noticed a social offence should remain quiet. This is where I am torn! What if these people genuinely don't understand! What if their parents never taught them standard manners! They could continue to go through life making a fool of themselves, and irritating others in the process. Surely it's our duty to speak out? "Fool, it is common decency and courtesy to remain to the side of the doorway of the tube/bus/shop until the traveller/shopper has exited the tube/bus/shop. Please refer to 'Debrett's A-Z of Modern Manners' for further information". Admittedly, I haven't read this book, but I presume such basics are included.
I would also guess that information about polite conversation with one who works in the public sector is included in this book. I suspect that the gentleman who works in the 'Assistance and Tickets' box at Finsbury Park missed this section.
"Hi, could you tell the best way to get to Blackhorse Road, please?"
"Bus 41."
Pause
"So will that take me directly to Blackhorse Road?"
"No, Tottenham Hale"
Longer pause, with encouraging motions with hands and eyes. Nothing.
"Okay great. So how do I get to Blackhorse Road?"
"Take the 41, then the 230."
"Thank you so much for your [helpful] assistance."
The first thing you may have noticed is the lack of hello from the man in the assistance box. He didn't smile either, but that's neither here nor there. The next thing that probably stood out is the abrupt manner with which he supplied the wrong information. Apologies - it wasn't strictly wrong, it was merely incomplete. But he didn't make any move to complete the information that I politely asked for.
I'm still baffled as to why he didn't wish to assist, when that appears to be part of his job description. Perhaps he was aware of pending strikes that the public was soon to experience - Tuesday 7th September. (Strikes in protest, I understand, of the job cuts soon to be made against those working in the tickets and assistance booths. Perhaps if they assisted...) Maybe he took an immediate dislike to me? Or perhaps he was shell-shocked at the bomb I dropped! The bomb of politeness! That's got to be it. He's been fighting a silent and possibly futile battle against the millions of people using the underground who seem to have forgotten their manners and the basic rules of etiquette that I thought everybody knew.
He must have been unlucky in missing the many lovelies to whom these things come naturally. I look forward to seeing and meeting more of them.
Conversely, let me try to explain the disgust that I feel when the busy train pulls up at a platform, and a clump of people do not wait for those on the train to get off first. Where does this rudeness come from?! Not to mention the idiocy. Surely it's clear that stepping onto a busy train at the same time that others wish to get off, all within very limited space, is not conducive to comfort or efficiency?
But of course saying something to the rude offender means that some rules of etiquette have been breached, and one ironically becomes an equal offender of politeness. Traditionally, one who has noticed a social offence should remain quiet. This is where I am torn! What if these people genuinely don't understand! What if their parents never taught them standard manners! They could continue to go through life making a fool of themselves, and irritating others in the process. Surely it's our duty to speak out? "Fool, it is common decency and courtesy to remain to the side of the doorway of the tube/bus/shop until the traveller/shopper has exited the tube/bus/shop. Please refer to 'Debrett's A-Z of Modern Manners' for further information". Admittedly, I haven't read this book, but I presume such basics are included.
I would also guess that information about polite conversation with one who works in the public sector is included in this book. I suspect that the gentleman who works in the 'Assistance and Tickets' box at Finsbury Park missed this section.
"Hi, could you tell the best way to get to Blackhorse Road, please?"
"Bus 41."
Pause
"So will that take me directly to Blackhorse Road?"
"No, Tottenham Hale"
Longer pause, with encouraging motions with hands and eyes. Nothing.
"Okay great. So how do I get to Blackhorse Road?"
"Take the 41, then the 230."
"Thank you so much for your [helpful] assistance."
The first thing you may have noticed is the lack of hello from the man in the assistance box. He didn't smile either, but that's neither here nor there. The next thing that probably stood out is the abrupt manner with which he supplied the wrong information. Apologies - it wasn't strictly wrong, it was merely incomplete. But he didn't make any move to complete the information that I politely asked for.
I'm still baffled as to why he didn't wish to assist, when that appears to be part of his job description. Perhaps he was aware of pending strikes that the public was soon to experience - Tuesday 7th September. (Strikes in protest, I understand, of the job cuts soon to be made against those working in the tickets and assistance booths. Perhaps if they assisted...) Maybe he took an immediate dislike to me? Or perhaps he was shell-shocked at the bomb I dropped! The bomb of politeness! That's got to be it. He's been fighting a silent and possibly futile battle against the millions of people using the underground who seem to have forgotten their manners and the basic rules of etiquette that I thought everybody knew.
He must have been unlucky in missing the many lovelies to whom these things come naturally. I look forward to seeing and meeting more of them.
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