The afternoon shift
Spent the day on the ITSPA stand at Convergence Summit South. For the last time ever. The show is morphing into something else in Birmingham. Whatever. We had a barrel of Daisy Gold on the stand and it was beholden on us ITSPA council members to lead by example.
Andy Rawnsley and I were about to leave to walk to the station when someone I had fed a beer to offered to drive us there. We ended up at the Euston Tap pub before Andy left to catch the 18.00 train to Manchester.
I walked to the Kings Cross Tandoori for some nosh as I had an hour before my 19.06 left. Weird conversation on the table next to me. Some bloke talking to his mate. He was speaking out against Facebook. The pal was clearly a Facebook user and was trying to agree diplomatically with the dissenter. Ex girlfriends seemed to be involved in the conversation.
The talk moved on to a proposed boys golfing trip whereby the girls would be able to go off and do their own thing. Belton Woods was mentioned as a “great hotel”. They really lost me there. Belton Woods is just a modern corporate edifice with no character. Hey…
On the train some bloke came and sat opposite me. After a couple of minutes he decided to move to a different carriage. Must have been something I said! Now listening to a bit of late night jazz. Ruby, My Dear by Charlie Rouse.
Quite a full train. A lot of them will get off at Peterborough. Good oh.
…
Gibberish – the language of the Gibbers. A once proud people the Gibbers lost the plot. Nobody knows where the plot went or tbh are particularly bothered but go it did sending a whole nation into disarray.
They didn’t walk around in circles in a confused manner but did start making incoherent statements about subjects known only to themselves. Some Gibbers would vibrate their lower lips with their forefingers exacerbating the problem of communication.
The biggest issue facing the Gibber people is the fact that not only can nobody outside their community understand a word they are saying but none of them can understand each other either. Each Gibber therefore lives in a world of his or her own.
None of them have a problem with this because at least they each understand what they are trying to say, even if nobody else does. Those speaking Gibberish are kings in their own cocoon.
Tags: diary