Last week was half term and time for a wee visit to London. Now I may have mentioned this before, but the Frog and I regularly joke/jibe/moan about my addiction to the computer and technology in general. I will straight up confess that I am a little addicted to Facebook and check every day what my cousins three times removed that I've never met before have have been up to. And then there's Zuma blitz, although I have got much better with that addiction since I realised I could bank my unused lives.
Anyway, apart from the dreaded FB, I also read blogs, write this blog and well, write. Dropbox, Scrivener and Word are like my personal holy trinity and being without them is a like leaving a little bit of myself behind. But you know you can always pick things up on the mobile version of Dropbox, except last week I didn't. I left EVERYTHING at home.
It was torture. The second we got on to the Eurostar I was surrounded by MacBooks. The bubba announced at the top of her voice that 'Mummy has that computer' and I felt compelled to explain that I had left it at home. A complete stranger left me in charge of his when he went to the toilet and I may have stroked it for a few moments.
As the train raced away from Paris, my mind kept shooting back to the little words I had left unattended at home and I tried to lose myself in someone else's. And then we arrived in London. We went to the park, we went shopping, I bought a bunch of books. We went to see the dinosaurs at the Natural History museum. We went to see The Muppets. The bubba somehow managed to find another French/English little girl in the soft play area. We went to the Tate Modern and contemplated Tacita Dean's Film. I think I made a breakthrough with my camera and even took a few pictures on the A setting before panicking and going back to the automatic setting. In general we had some fun, even though the words were always on my mind.
But sometimes you have to let the words go. Sometimes you get so close to them, you can't see them anymore. They mean nothing and tell no story. And I find it really hard to do, but for five days I did it. And I went back to them and every awkward phrase, bad bit of punctuation and silly bit stood out like a sore thumb. It was time to make those words sing.Sometimes, it's good to have a wee break.
Now I was going to leave you with a photo of the pile of books that came back with me, but I've had no time. So here's the list: Beware of the Frog by William Bee, Jack and the Beanstalk by Stephen Tucker and Nick Sharrat, Slinky Malinky by Lynley Dodd, Dinosaur More by Henriette Stickland, Inkdeath by Cornelia Funke, Operation Eiffel Tower by Elen Caldecott, David by Mary Hoffman and 15 days without a head by Dave Cousins (more about that soon).
And finally. This shop opened after I left home, but it's there right at the top of the street where I grew up. Do you think this means something?