Communication

Do you know, it must be one of the greatest paradoxes… technology has done more for communication than, even a decade or two ago, anybody could have possibly dreamed about. We take for granted what, to our parents’ generation, would have sounded like science fiction. And yet, at the same time, technology is killing our ability to make ourselves understood. The very thing it’s making easier, at the same time it’s making so completely inefficient that it’s almost better to remain in splendid isolation.

I mentioned in a previous post that I had to cancel Friday night as I was working late. Actually, I didn’t get home until gone 9 o’clock, and by the time the kids were in bed it was gone 10.30… I sat down on the sofa meaning to call GG and apologise properly, and next thing I knew it was the early hours of the morning. I hate it when that happens, because its so hard to drag yourself up to bed, and sleeping on the sofa never feels quite the same in the morning. The sleep’s never quite as deep.

Anyway, GG texted me early this morning, and I thought it was clear from the “tone” that she was annoyed. I texted her back, and was kind of steeling myself for an argument. Sure enough, the phone rang minutes later. But you know what? She was absolutely cool… not only cool, but we must have spoken for more than an hour and a half, and didn’t really want to stop even then.

This is why I can hate my fucking mobile! I love it too, of course, but I hate the way it’s so hard to tell what people actually mean when they text. Not always, but seemingly every time it really matters. I know people who dump their partners by text – think about it… have you done that? I’ve done it by email, which is no better, if the truth be told. What’s happened to talking? That’s communication, isn't it?!

We had a great night, by the way, thanks to Zooz and her fireworks party. The sky over Alexandra Palace was awash with colour, and the smell and the sound just transported me back to when I was a child, watching Dad gingerly step up to the rockets planted in the turf behind our house with his lighted taper. We had to stay behind the French doors and we thought he was so brave, exposing himself to danger so that we could have our thrills for the night.

Oh, and I came clean about my blog to one or two people I know, so now they’ll look at me strangely when we meet. We'll be talking about the lack of summer or otherwise in that quintessentially English way, whilst they'll probably be thinking about the way GG makes me cum in her mouth whilst staring into my eyes. But do I care?