Space
This piece originally appeared in the March 2008 issue of All The Rage. It is about “space”.
SPACE: A non-exhaustive list with asides.
1. Outer Space. In particular, as I type, being a little closer to it – around 38,000 feet / 12,000 metres[i] above the Indian Ocean, between Melbourne and Perth[ii].
2. 2001: A Space Odyssey. Watched for the first time recently, on the personal miniaturised seat-screen, somewhere over South-East Asia[iii].
3. Confined Space. That which we find ourselves in when on an aeroplane[iv], the seating arrangements for which having been designed without consideration of elbows, or feet.
4. The long bar key on the bottom row of this laptop’s keyboard, which I have continually in the drafting of this entertainment pressed instead of the mouse button, to my increasing annoyance, and for which I seem to hold the keyboard responsible, for some reason.
5. The space behind the settee, traditionally considered “safe”.
6. The space down the back of the settee, in which small change, hair grips and collectable Wispa bars can be lost.
7. The space between me, on the 67th floor of the skyscraper, and the ground. A distance which conventional wisdom tells us lends humans the appearance of ants[v].
8. The space in a front door, through which items can be delivered[vi].
9. The space between the hands on a watch, diminishing, as they descend towards midnight.
10. The space between two pages of a book, minutely separated by a toothpick, marking the place.
[i] According to the in-flight map information on the screen in front of me. (On budget airlines, is this what the pilots have to use for navigation?)
[ii] One of the highlights of this trip, more than making up for the failure to determine whether water goes down the plug-hole the other way, was the discovery that we are, indeed, literally down under. I determined this by observing the moon. At first, everything appeared to be normal, but on closer examination something was wrong: where was the man? Some quick logical thinking told me to twist my head 180 degrees, and there he was, Ol’ Cheesy, looking slightly shocked as usual (at all that he must have witnessed over the years, no doubt), gazing down at me as I stood, upside-down, on the bottom of the planet.
[iii] In which, amongst many other fascinating goings on, I was amused to spot Reginald Perrin, still at it, it would seem, and this time masquerading as an anxious Soviet scientist.
[iv] I’ve been doing a fair bit of this recently. Of course I much prefer the proper airlines, wherein you are provided with food and drink as part of the ticket price. Over the last few years I have become a less nervous flyer, and I have come to appreciate the first trolley run, the cabin staff handing me a compartment-tray treat, a good boy reward for being so brave during take-off. This effect is destroyed if you have to pay for it. For superstitious reasons, however, I still give my full attention to the safety demonstration, as requested. Today’s was satisfyingly stylised, and put me in mind of a performance ritual that must take place before important events, like a haka.
[v] Ants wearing clothes. Ants in taxis.
[vi] Not suitable for the delivery of cats.