Tuesday, 20 January 2009
They show extraordinary intelligence, even problem-solving. Especially the big one.
Hello again, blog followers. Happy new year to you all, and I hope that 2009 brings you all that you wish for.
My initial resolution for 2009 was not to make any resolutions. However, it soon dawned on me that I would be breaking that resolution if I followed it. So, not wishing to have the collapse of the space-time continuum on my conscience, I resolved to compile a list of traditional resolutions - one of which was to sit down at my computer once a fortnight and tap out something vaguely coherent for your perusal.
It’s been three months now since Tom and I began our training odyssey, and to be honest I’m not noticing much of a difference. I was expecting to go through some kind of dry land withdrawal. I imagined myself developing mutant gills, webbed feet, a superfluous nipple, or maybe the odd fin or two .... but no. I am rather disappointed.
I am a little perplexed too, at how my general level of fitness and stamina seems to be decreasing the more I train and exercise. Two months ago I was able to swim a kilometre with little pause for rest. More recently, however, I have struggled to swim more than ten lengths without becoming significantly fatigued. It is all very strange, and the only rational conclusion I can draw is that it represents the basis of some kind of latent superpower that is awakening within me.
As to whether I will use this power for good, evil or awesome, I have yet to decide.
In other, non-superpower related news, we’ve not played underwater charades since Tom’s little accident in the pool at the end of 2008. Unbeknownst to us, it appears that humans have yet to evolve the capacity to speak underwater without simultaneously ingesting large amounts of water into their lungs. This in turn can lead to a major case of deadness, especially if your swimming buddy is too busy laughing his head off to assist in your recovery (once again Tom, I’m very sorry about that).
Instead, our new year swims have been interspersed with deep philosophical musings; the kind of age-old questions that have prompted much beard-scratching and many sleepless nights throughout the course of human history. So, when halfway through our swim, Tom turned to me - his face pained in thought - I knew that an enquiry of epic profundity was about to be made.
“Seb?”, he began, “What do you think is the most important part of a building?”
“I’m sorry?”
“A building. What’s its most important part?”, he repeated, believing me to have simply misheard the question or become confused by the ordering of its words.
“... Well”, I answered - after a dramatic and unnecessary pause - “probably the floor”.
“Hmm”, huffed Tom, clearly unsatisfied by my answer.
.... “But what if the building was on a precipice?”, he continued.
“Overlooking a precipice, or overhanging a precipice?” I enquired, illustrating the difference with my hands and some impromptu signs.
“No, no, no, hanging FROM a precipice”, exhorted Tom, as if that were the most normal thing in the world.
“... so, upside down?”, I managed.
“Yes! But the people inside have magnetic boots to combat gravity. Obviously”.
“Ah, I hadn’t thought about that”, I conceded, observing the wide circle of space that had formed around us, during the course of our conversation.
“In that case the ceiling would be important, wouldn’t it?”, Tom concluded, his eyes a sea of pleading recognition.
“Yes, I suppose in that case it would”.
to be continued
Friday, 2 January 2009
We've made living biological attractions so astounding that they'll capture the imagination of the entire planet.
Happy New Year to one and all!!
The last time we swam was Wednesday the 17th December. And what a wonderful session it was!! Remember when you had swimming lessons as a child, and on the last session of the term you'd have a fun swim? Well, that was our last session of 2008. For at least half an hour, Seb and I (Jetsam and Flotsam) had the entire pool to ourselves!!!! And for the rest of the time in the pool, we only ever shared it with a maximum of two other people!!! We started to swim seriously, counting the lengths, but soon realised an opportunity for pool-based light-heartedness may not exist for some time after this, mainly thanks to the New Year Resolutionists.
And so we played Underwater Charades.
Our imagination brushes were coated with the paint of our underwater agility, and deftly put to the chlorinated canvas of....er...blue...ness. We managed to pull off The Matrix and Jumanji without too much confusion. When the proceedings turned inevitably to that unforgettable adventure "65 million years in the making", I found it hard to portray a Jeep and a Tyrannosaurus rex and an injured Dr Malcolm simultaneously. On one occasion, I tried to march along to the tune of The Great Escape, but I temporarily forgot about the whole "Don't inhale underwater unless you're surrounded by that red fluid from The Abyss" rule, and almost drowned myself all for the sake of artistic pride. As I resurfaced, I was greeted by the sound of hysterical fits of laughter emanating from the cheerful face of my faithful swim buddy. When he could speak again, about six and a half minutes later, he likened my sudden look of realisation that humans can't breathe underwater to the equivalent expression of shock on the face of Wile E. Coyote as he realises that he is standing in mid-air and lacks the ability to fly.
Have you ever been able to fly in a dream? If so, how do you fly? I only ask because throughout my childhood, I had recurring dreams in which I could fly, and my method of doing so was akin to underwater breaststroke. As I kicked off from the ground, I had to start frantically moving my legs and legs in the breaststroke fashion until I floated up into the air. It felt so realistic, partly because I would only successfully achieve flight occasionally, and partly because the muscle movements involved in breaststroke are so very familiar to me. Good dreams they were indeed. Anyway, I demonstrated my dreamself's flying method to Seb, and he demonstrated his very different method of dreamflying, which involves soaring cleanly through the air with one fist extended forwards. Hmmmm...just like Seb's least favourite superhero, Superman.
On Christmas eve, I was working: Boring. On New year's eve however, we neglected our swim for an altogether less mundane reason. At the exact time of the day and week we would have been swimming, Seb and I, along with Mike and James, were walking up the garden path of a country house, dressed as an Ant, a Fly, a Bee and a Caterpillar/Butterfly respectively. It was the venue of (as you've probably guessed, my friends) a fancy dress party, the theme of which was "Invertebrates". We mingled with Jellyfish, Glow-worms and Sea-stars, and at midnight, James the Caterpillar became James the Butterfly, in a transformation that could be seen as a metaphor for change being beautiful an' that. And this year is the year we swim. We will be mingling with jellyfish for real, in the Mediterranean sea. And we had better be careful, for, as the old Irish saying goes, "Nematocysts made from paper streamers may be attractive, and are harmless enough, but when the nematocysts are real and attached to a live jellyfish, the result of fondling them nonchalantly can be painful and often fatal."
May 2009 bring you all you wish for, along with flying dreams.
The last time we swam was Wednesday the 17th December. And what a wonderful session it was!! Remember when you had swimming lessons as a child, and on the last session of the term you'd have a fun swim? Well, that was our last session of 2008. For at least half an hour, Seb and I (Jetsam and Flotsam) had the entire pool to ourselves!!!! And for the rest of the time in the pool, we only ever shared it with a maximum of two other people!!! We started to swim seriously, counting the lengths, but soon realised an opportunity for pool-based light-heartedness may not exist for some time after this, mainly thanks to the New Year Resolutionists.
And so we played Underwater Charades.
Our imagination brushes were coated with the paint of our underwater agility, and deftly put to the chlorinated canvas of....er...blue...ness. We managed to pull off The Matrix and Jumanji without too much confusion. When the proceedings turned inevitably to that unforgettable adventure "65 million years in the making", I found it hard to portray a Jeep and a Tyrannosaurus rex and an injured Dr Malcolm simultaneously. On one occasion, I tried to march along to the tune of The Great Escape, but I temporarily forgot about the whole "Don't inhale underwater unless you're surrounded by that red fluid from The Abyss" rule, and almost drowned myself all for the sake of artistic pride. As I resurfaced, I was greeted by the sound of hysterical fits of laughter emanating from the cheerful face of my faithful swim buddy. When he could speak again, about six and a half minutes later, he likened my sudden look of realisation that humans can't breathe underwater to the equivalent expression of shock on the face of Wile E. Coyote as he realises that he is standing in mid-air and lacks the ability to fly.
Have you ever been able to fly in a dream? If so, how do you fly? I only ask because throughout my childhood, I had recurring dreams in which I could fly, and my method of doing so was akin to underwater breaststroke. As I kicked off from the ground, I had to start frantically moving my legs and legs in the breaststroke fashion until I floated up into the air. It felt so realistic, partly because I would only successfully achieve flight occasionally, and partly because the muscle movements involved in breaststroke are so very familiar to me. Good dreams they were indeed. Anyway, I demonstrated my dreamself's flying method to Seb, and he demonstrated his very different method of dreamflying, which involves soaring cleanly through the air with one fist extended forwards. Hmmmm...just like Seb's least favourite superhero, Superman.
On Christmas eve, I was working: Boring. On New year's eve however, we neglected our swim for an altogether less mundane reason. At the exact time of the day and week we would have been swimming, Seb and I, along with Mike and James, were walking up the garden path of a country house, dressed as an Ant, a Fly, a Bee and a Caterpillar/Butterfly respectively. It was the venue of (as you've probably guessed, my friends) a fancy dress party, the theme of which was "Invertebrates". We mingled with Jellyfish, Glow-worms and Sea-stars, and at midnight, James the Caterpillar became James the Butterfly, in a transformation that could be seen as a metaphor for change being beautiful an' that. And this year is the year we swim. We will be mingling with jellyfish for real, in the Mediterranean sea. And we had better be careful, for, as the old Irish saying goes, "Nematocysts made from paper streamers may be attractive, and are harmless enough, but when the nematocysts are real and attached to a live jellyfish, the result of fondling them nonchalantly can be painful and often fatal."
May 2009 bring you all you wish for, along with flying dreams.
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