About last night

I don't feel guilty about not posting anything last night. Not me. Oh no, no siree. It's not like I have to post something every day after all. It's not as though some strange compulsion forces me to lay my thoughts out for all and sundry to see (despite what the doctors may say). I can give up any time I want to. Any time. That I want to. I just don't want to right now.

Last night I went to the Barbican with Amber, who had free tickets for a classical concert featuring a pianist of great renown whose name I can't quite remember right now. Amber, being the classical pianist that she is was obviously rather keen to see him (who ever he was. Hmm, hang on a moment, this is what google was invented for... ah, there we go Murray Perahia), whereas I was merely along for heck of it. What struck me afterwards when Amber was discussing the performance with some of her more musically inclined friends, was that this must be what it feels like when a group of computer geeks are discussing computer matters around the less technologically inclined. Or indeed when any group versed in a particular discipline gather to talk about it in the presence of those less versed. Whilst I could grasp the general gist of the conversation, it was really from the perspective of a near complete outsider. It's one of those things that should be immediately obvious and yet somehow it's easy to get caught up the moment and unintentionally exclude people. To anyone that I may inadvertently done such to I offer my sincerest apology.

I naturally declined the chance to follow the conversation further and decided to make my way home instead, not least because the hour was getting late. One strange thing about the Barbican is that it's conveniently located in the middle of nowhere, which is rather odd, since I didn't realise that it was possible to have a middle of nowhere in the center of a large city. But it is. I suspect the problem lies with the City Of London (or "The City" as it's denizens more commonly refer to it) where the Barbican is found. The City is noted for it's area, which is said to be a square mile. It's not a part of London I often frequent and, as I found out last night, it appears to be a rather geographically dense area - which is to say that for one square mile there seems to be rather a lot of it. That's not to say that I got lost last night. On the contrary, I had a very good idea where I was at all times. I just didn't have a clue where any of the tube stations in the area were found and ended up on a forty minute walk/jog/sprint (in that order) to Waterloo to catch my train. Curiously the route I took (which was the most direct possible for those of you who still think I was lost) also passed by the armed trees that seem to have formed a running theme this week. There were no tourists around to spray with water that late at night but the trees seemed content to wait, happy with their new found purpose in life.

The walk/jog/sprint through the City was fairly pleasant, taking me along strange twisting raised walkways that passed by numerous tall buildings with twinkly lights that seemed a million miles removed from the grim grey concrete monoliths that inhabit the same area during the daytime. That night I dreamt of a tall skyscraper built of sparkling white plastic and ocean blue glass whose tip reached out into space. A troupe of actors performed A Midsummers Night Dream at its base. They were very good.