My Time Tunnel…southallstory | Saturday, January 23rd, 2010 | No Comments »
Sometime back in the late seventies I attended a meeting of very individual individuals. It was Art School and it was fun. Five of us spent about three hours studying a chair. The issue was; what exactly is a chair? The other four had some notions and were reasonably certain. I was the sceptic.
Nevertheless, we really did sort out this “chair” thing. It was an important moment and I can assure you that all present were sober and without any chemical or other encouragement. And as far as I can ascertain: sane. A further two hours later, with heated, interesting conversation and some debate, we all agreed. We were in sync and were friends.
I walked out with a smile. I was an existentialist. The icing on this cake was that I could spell it correctly. What is surprising is that thirty years down the line, I still can. (Sorry Spell-Check).
Sometimes, even with the everyday things: it is good to know. And this is where The Southall Story comes in.
I do not need to bore you with the problems of… ‘Modern life.’ I am sure that you are all experts.
As time passes by (sometimes, it gallops by and you wonder why you are staring at it’s slipstream). At times, we all forget. Sometimes we put things away. It is all part of life, our lives.
The worrying aspect of modern life is when we encounter that feeling of emptiness; of a void, of something missing, it is all too easy to “hit the bottle” or indulge in other unsafe practices.
Even easier: buy something! Some call this retail ‘therapy.’ Doing what I do, I would be a little concerned about the use of the word ‘therapy.’ Often, it is all too convenient to define ourselves by what we buy. Also in this dismal league is a person being defined by ones job or employment.
Where is The I, or The Me in this??
The Southall Story is a concoction that contains no alcohol, chemicals, additives, or any unnatural elements. What you will find is an abundance of added colour and a lot more.
See it as a wake-up call. Perhaps, a first step on the ladder out of that inevitable pit. In case you are wondering: as I write this, yes, I am on my comfortable chair…