Skip to the beat

He wanted to assess my heart. "Don't worry about a thing, in any shape or form" he said. I settled down to a quiet slumber. A few hours had passed when suddenly, without warning he burst into the room. He hadn't told me he was going to do this. My heart beat stepped up a gear. He looked at me to judge my reaction. "Chill" he mumbled, "lie back down and go to sleep". Next, he gave me a hefty dose of anxiety. I looked across at him, hoping to see him in control, but as I did he fell over. Was this part of the experiment? The result - instant tachycardia.

I realised I'd not consented to any of this treatment. What was I doing here anyway? Perhaps this was more of an answer, than a question.

Silent resignation

A couple sat behind me on the train reminiscing about a time when they had visited the town we were passing through. "We were at that junction for a long time, do you remember?" he asked her. "Yes, before we could turn", she replied. For such a strange conversation, I could relate to what they were saying. It seemed as though I'd been at this junction for a long time and I still hadn't decided whether to go left or right. Left looked appealing, exciting even, but right looked familiar, as if I'd been down that road before - maybe that was safer? I sat and waited.

"We walked along that path there", he said in a monotone voice. "Yes, we were carrying things" she said, with a subtle hint of pleasure. It seemed such a banal thing to remember, unless the items were of some significance. And if they were, there was a mutual understanding between the two of them. Words weren't needed to explain it as they sat in silence for the rest of the journey. They seemed to talk only in fragmented sentences. The gaps were filled by silent resignation.

Back to front and inside out

She looked at me through tear-filled eyes. "I just feel so angry", she expressed.

She was angry, but her body language suggested otherwise. It was puzzling - why anger should manifest itself in a feeble sob? It seemed all at odds, opposites, as to how it should be. Like wearing a t-shirt back to front and inside out.

Perhaps this is a fundamental 'design-fault' of the right side of the brain controlling the left side of the body and vice-versa? Maybe sometimes the messages go the wrong way and the right connections just aren't fired off?

Missing connection

It's hard to know whether to follow your head or your heart. I've been thinking about ways to reach some kind of conclusion. But using my head in this way wasn't helping. Being in such a state of flux was draining. I reclined and flicked through the local magazine, until I came across an advert for palm reading at an event being held in the park. I've never entertained the idea before but somehow it seemed pertinent.

I walked into the tent, expecting to see a woman, but to my surprise a man was sat there staring at me through half open eyes. I smiled. He didn't reciprocate. I blushed. He didn't. He was serious. I tried to be.

I'd removed any clues from my hands so that he could examine the bare facts. He took hold of my left hand and looked at my palm. He inhaled sharply and put his hand to his mouth. My heart was racing. He pulled at his lips in a way that suggested he was in a state of contemplation. "I've never seen so many lines" he said eventually. "Yes but what do they mean?" I asked impatiently.

"Impossible to say, it's too complex. But there does seem to be a line missing" he said. "What line?" I enquired. "Its the line that connects the future with the past" he replied.

"It means there's a wholesale change looming."

Lost and found

I was sat near the driver when the following announcement came on: -

"A man is missing. Please advise tram staff to look out for him. He's 75, has a red complexion and sort grey hair, a beige coat and has dementia. He's dropped his tram pass, which the police have found, so he may get on with nothing."

It struck me that just because he didn't have his tram pass, didn't mean that he had 'nothing'. Or maybe a ticket to ride is everything? I looked up and down the tram in an attempt to find him, but there was no sign.

Perhaps it's necessary to lose yourself in order to be found?

Tokyo Blue

It seemed to come out the blue. And that was how I was feeling, so it was apt. Yet it was a darker shade of blue. Darker even than Tokyo Blue. It was like driving along at high speed and suddenly noticing your turning. And then just for a few seconds everything slows right down while you try and figure out what to do.

I couldn't let my eyes settle on anything. I was surrounded by connections, memories. Everywhere I looked there was meaning without clarity.

"We need to accelerate this decision." I was trying hard to put my foot on the pedal but we weren't going any faster. In fact we weren't going anywhere.

The proof of the pudding is in the eating

I was feeling topsy-turvy. It was hard to weigh up. It felt a bit like being in the middle of making gluten free pastry. This kind of baking has a lot of precision attached to it - there's no guessing at quantities. It has to be exact, or you have to be prepared for there to be tears over spilt milk and crumbling tarts. There's a definite knack to it. You have to be patient for one, persist when things don't work out the way you hoped, go back over techniques you thought you'd sussed and re-learn them, repair bits that break up / off, look like its not getting on your nerves and at the end of it all, be prepared for it not to taste like 'real' pastry, but still try and enjoy it.

Compromise. I'm told it's all about compromise. But at what point do you decide that actually it doesn't tantalize your taste-buds anymore and you should try a new recipe? Or should you persevere and think that it's an 'acquired' taste? And how long does an acquired taste take to acquire? The trouble is, by the time you've answered all these questions its past the sell by date and you're not hungry anymore.