Today I have been clearing out the study overflow otherwise known as the cupboard under the stairs (my opera singing plumber needs under the floor in there to try and find how the gas supply gets from one side of the house to the other). I thought I knew what was under there, paper, card, bubble machine, guillotine, flip chart … you get the general idea, all the stuff that makes the study look untidy even when it isn’t. The filing cabinet is also under there along with some box files which are on a shelving unit – which Hubby could only build once in the cupboard and tonight will need to take down. Oh, and of course the dyson.
Anyway I knew all those things where in there, from time to time I venture into it usually remembering to duck so as not to bash my head, however I found something that I had forgotten about a box file full of acetates I had drawn for use during children’s addresses in the days when the height of presentation was an OHP. Boy did it take me back the hours I spent drawing pictures to illustrate the tale not to mention the overlays. Okay I’ve mentioned them, I liked to use overlays so that there would be some kind of movement in the pictures or progression rather than the messiness of a new film each time. Two of them are particularly complicated one involving seven overlays to make the small star in the sky spin and grow bigger and another with twelve – yes 12 – overlays showing trees grow and then getting chopped down. I remember that one required a pile of books beside the OHP to stop the weight of the overlays pulling the whole thing off onto the floor.
Just taking them out and looking them has meant that my finger tips are now covered in rainbow colours of ink – turns out permanent didn’t mean the ink would never rub off! Today if I was to tell those stories and wanted to illustrate them I would use the laptop and projector, I would probably involve pictures that actually moved, sound, and maybe even interactions. Plus today I could change and adapt them as I went along without getting into an inky mess involving a great juggling act. It would also be a whole lot cheaper I seem to recall those acetates weren’t cheap. I suppose I should throw them out, even if I did want to use them the ink would end up on my alb and I don’t think the children of today would be as impressed with them as the children of 20 years ago were.
Makes me wonder just what we think of as permanent today will be no more than landfill in 20 years time.
I remember the launch of cd’s, this wonderful new medium that would keep every thing safe of eternity on an indestructible gleaming disk. Well we all know that isn’t the case, more music is downloaded and abides virtually than is bought on cd’s now.
Homes as in bricks and mortar are not a permanent residence any more. Okay I maybe move more than most, but the idea of living in the same village, town or city from when you leave home until you retire is long gone. As is the idea of working for the same company until you get your carriage clock to mark your staying power and retirement.
Relationships fare no better, despite what is said in all god faith at the beginning of a marriage the divorce rate proves that ’till death do us part’ doesn’t necessarily mean for ever.
Even mountains which seem permanent and solid erode over the years, to become the sand on the beach the dust in the air.
What is permanent? Just how long can permanent really be?