The scientists tell us that the material universe began with
a big explosion which brought all sorts of chemical and electrical things into
play, and that the building blocks thus produced eventually evolved into life
forms. OK, but don’t chemical and electrical things produce machines? So where
did consciousness come from? How did these building blocks gain the capacity to
be aware – so aware, in fact, that we’re able to think very complex thoughts
and work out how we came into being in the first place?
And that made me wonder whether science is trapped in its
own sense of reality and is only capable of looking inward. And further,
whether science will ever be able to move outside its own sense of reality,
view itself as a creature limited by its own presumptions, and become capable
of seeing a bigger picture. And is there a bigger picture, because that’s the basis
of the mystery?
* * *
But then I went into a charity shop and saw a 4ft x 3ft
poster for sale at £10. It said:
Where there is
TEA
There is
LOVE
£10 for the benefit of having such wisdom displayed –
prominently, no doubt – in one’s place of abode… Is Bedlam still open?
It got better. Next stop the Home Bargains store where their
image gurus have become so enamoured of the word ‘wow’ that they’ve started
referring to their establishment as Wowland.
And the little cartoon dog which they use on their marketing signs says (or
rather barks, I suppose) ‘wowf.’
At this point I’m beginning to wonder whether the human
machine is quite as aware as it thinks it is. Did I say ‘thinks’? Oh.
* * *
A bigger mystery was yet to unfold. I found myself asking
‘Why does that woman who looks as though she used to be a top model always
smile at me when I look at her?’
* * *
And the biggest mystery of all:
I was sitting by the window of the coffee shop waiting for
my cup of Americano-with-cream to be delivered when I noticed one of the
assistants clearing a nearby table. I looked at her and realised that she was
the new one I’d seen from a distance last week. She was smiling and said:
‘You don’t recognise me, do you?’
I didn’t, actually, but she did look familiar. Being a
fundamentally honest sort of bloke, I admitted the fact without hesitation
(which is sometimes a good thing to do and sometimes isn’t.)
‘I used to work at the dentists in Ashbourne.’
Light bulbs illuminated the darkness to which I have become
accustomed lately. What’s more, my memory was up to the task of doing its duty.
It took only a couple of seconds to bring a triumphant forefinger into play:
‘Lucy!’ (Thank you,
God. I know I don’t deserve it, so double thanks.)
‘That’s it,' she confirmed. 'I remembered you as soon as you walked in.’
Remembered me? Who the hell ever remembers me? See what I mean about light bulbs?
Lucy used to be a dental nurse some years ago at the
practice I use. She was slight of form, had a most attractive and interesting
face, and came equipped with naturally black hair and compelling eyes (she’s ¼
Greek.) It should come as no surprise that she received the odd honourable
mention on this blog at the time.
But now I needed something meaningful to say…
‘So that’s why I didn’t recognise you. I’m used to seeing
you in blue pyjamas.’
(Not bad, I suppose, given the parlous state of my brain
lately.)
And then she told me all about her recent trip to Australia (it’s
odd how young women always want to tell me about their travels) and I made all
the requisite responses. If I talk to her again, maybe I’ll confess that she
was one of the models for ‘the girl with richest raven hair’ in a ditty I
posted on this blog a long time ago and which now qualifies for a repeat, I think.
I remember reciting it to her once, although I don’t recall her being at all
impressed. Maybe it’s because I didn’t tell her she was one of the models. This
is it, for the benefit of those who were travelling in deepest Mongolia at the time:
I want to go to sleep now
And dream of Timbuktu
And sing some old sea shanties
While I paddle my canoe
And sitting in the bow will be
The fairest in the land
The girl with richest raven hair
Tied up with velvet band
And when we reach the shoreline
And the night comes on to rain
We’ll shelter ’neath a banyan tree
Then paddle home again
And we all know who the other model was, don’t we? She who
no longer acknowledges my existence. Lucy, it seems, has lasted.
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