There was a lot of water about today. First thing this morning, I woke to torrents of water. Not on me, to be fair, but the noise of the massive raindrops falling on the ceiling lantern in the extension made it difficult to hear the radio.
Given it was a Friday, I was heading to the shops. It did not look very inviting. But then, as sometimes happens, the rain slowed to almost a stop by the time I left the house and, when I was in Waitrose, the sun actually made an appearance outside.
Mind you, the view down Castle Street looked far from bright and cheery.
Things were brightened considerably when, as I walked towards the Borough, a loud and insistent car horn blasted out. It was Andrew, waving and grinning vigorously at me as he drove his car out of Downing Street.
I returned his wave as he drove away. A woman, walking behind me, told me that he’d scared the daylights out of her with his ‘loud hello’ as she put it. I laughed and said that at least I heard him. She laughed back and said that most of Farnham had heard him.
He later apologised for not offering me a lift.
On my walk home, the dark clouds made a reappearance and it looked threatening but, apart from a bit of a drizzle, the day improved until the view out of my office window was very pleasant.
I can only guess what the people across the road were thinking when the rain was pouring down early on.
The new residents moved into Fiona and Bruce’s house as soon as they left yesterday and today there were three people helping with a clear out. Of what, I don’t know, but they had a skip delivered then taken away and there were three people helping.
I said good morning to one of our new neighbours as I left the house to go shopping. He seemed pleasant enough; as pleasant as one can gather from a returned salutation, anyway. He has a small beard and they have a baby. And, according to Mirinda, a giant TV which may explain why they needed a bigger house.
Speaking of new residents, I noticed in The Lion and Lamb Yard, that the old Colony Shop property has been turned into a temporary exhibition space and shop, run by Making Matters. It’s a collective formed by a group of students from the UCA. You can read all about them on their website here.
Don’t be put off by their use of the word ‘whilst’ which makes me think they are a bit old-fashioned. Their works are bright, modern and, in some cases, quite beautiful.
Being original works, a lot of the art isn’t cheap but then, you pay for originality, skill and what you consider beautiful. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. Paying a few hundred pounds for a unique piece which will last forever is a small price to pay.
As opposed to Svalbadi water.
Jon sent me a link to a Radio 4 programme today. It was an episode of a series that Will Self made, regarding water. Bottled, canned, bubbling from the ground, all sorts of water. The episode he sent me featured a lot of Scandi stuff including the magical value of spas in Stockholm, which I found delightful.
What I didn’t find particularly delightful was the fact that you can buy a bottle of Svalbad water for £85. You can order a bottle in a New York restaurant for $150 if you are really stupid. I wonder how many wankers would only drink half a bottle, leaving the rest for the staff to pour down a sink?
According to the Svalbadi website, the company extracting and bottling the water from Arctic icebergs is carbon neutral. They don’t mention how it travels from Svalbad to New York without having some sort of carbon impact.
Perhaps that’s why it’s so expensive. It’s for the type of person who believes they can buy their way out of the climate emergency.
