“I’ll just get in last, shall I?” I grumbled at the last to push in front of me. Now I’m opposite a huge city gent who seems to have been reversed into his suit. He’s a bit too big for the seat which means his jacket has ridden up badly as he sat down and he’s got nowhere to put his arms, so they kind of waggle about tentacle-like in front of him. He’s plugged in and opted out so there’s no point in even trying to make eye contact through the pudgy folds of his face to say ‘good morning’.
One thing I do notice, as he tries various armrest options, is the rubberised wristband, like the ones at the Blue Lagoon in Iceland. These things can be programmed to offer all kinds of services from rights of access to fiscal exchange. At the Icelandic spa your wristband talks to your locker and to the bar out on the lake. There’s no scrabbling for change, guarding keys, or trying to remember your locker number, all of which contributes to the general sense of wellbeing as you splosh about. My guess is he uses it to get into his office.
We ran into his type - albeit the French variety - corporate eventing at the Blue Lagoon one evening. Three rubicund executives piled into the changing area, in robes, to recover cameras from their lockers. Our friend, Nick, who speaks fluent French, said that their excited chatter was spattered with tit and arse references. Doubtless, female colleagues in bathing suits were too good an opportunity to miss.
Wading out into the floodlit water the entire party could be seen clustered near one of the steaming vents. Throw in a couple of giant bird heads and it could have been a scene by Bosch or Breughel.
Out of the six people in my immediate vicinity, five are texting or otherwise stroking little screens. It’s all a bit weird in a way I find difficult to explain without appearing to be a hypocrite or a technophobe.
I was describing the flight to Iceland earlier and the same thing occurred to me then. From my seat in the cabin I could see several seatback screens in operation and something Old Pete said sprang to mind; “people seem to think they have a right to be entertained,” he said, rolling his eyeballs. It’s a common complaint of the old about the young but the so-called old are probably just as bad. It’s mad to think that when I was at school we had a school computer installed. There were no other screens to speak of.
I’m really glad I can sit on this train and tap away - I might not be writing at all without the facility, it really works for me - but the constant need to be entertained is worrying. I can’t think straight with the TV on, for example. Is that just a lack of concentration on my part, or TV doing what it does best – i.e. helping me to switch off?
Nick playing the saw in a music shop in Reykjavic - heck, why not?
