To: twc-l@halmarax.demon.co.uk
From: Tony@halmarax.demon.co.uk (Tony Halmarack)
Subject: Re: TWC: Any comments on the charter?
In-Reply-To: <19960624.060619.90@halmarax.demon.co.uk>
Date: Thu, 27 Jun 1996 11:27:40 +0100
[Response to Vashti's Intro]
> I think it is nice to sort of have an "Introduction" post to the list so
> that others can get to know people on the list, general stuff, before they
> jump into the list "purpose" subject stuff. I am also in favor of very
> little moderation, people tend to "work out" the small stuff. and as a list
> gets going it is like a little family and tends to have its little spats, etc.
This sounds like a great approach, certainly more suitable than jumping
straight into philisophical conflict, which for some reason seems to be a
popular and easy route to take.
Looking back on my past life I'm aware of an embarassing tendency for me to
adopt fashionable attitudes and activities. During these past-times I've
imagined that there was a much stronger element of personal choice and
individuality involved in what I was doing.
As a teenager, my sensitive awareness of social ills and injustice
led me to take to a road of hard initiations and apparently unique
experiences. This somehow led to me becoming a fairly stereotypical drug
oriented hippy type of character, (along with millions of others)
influenced by the literary and musical demigods of the day. A very good
time I had too, give or take the odd crash landing, though it was hardly
based on any original thought of my own.
Later, right on cue, there I was caught up in the UK housing boom, busily
renovating and upgrading property. An inspired navvy on the road to
value added home ownership. Tuned right in to the materialistic frenzy,
it was only sheer luck that caused me to overload my back-bone with a
barrowload of wobbling collateral. I was immobilised. Out of the big race
for prosperity.
Meanwhile, many other maze-rats were hungrily extending their credit and
scuttling on up the ladder to the next, highly desirable, money spinning
treadmill. Then Crash! it all tumbled down. As the dust cleared, only
the hammering of creditors on the laquered brass knockers of natural wood
finish doors could be heard. It seemed like the lab was being set up for
a new experiment.
In celebration of my failure to incur maximum indebtedness to the mortgage
company, and with panic attacks abating nicely under suitable medication,
I changed tack and took up wood carving. Along with some fairly elaborate
pieces of furniture, I started making a Celtic style cradle for my soon to
be born daughter. The design and execution seemed to get more and more
elaborate as I went along, with intertwined birds, esoteric spiralling
symbols and knotwork panels. I worked on it long and quietly in the
sunshine, regaining feelings of joy and peace previously experienced only
during rare chemically induced peaks of my distant past.
Sad to say, my daughter was 3 months old and much to big to sleep in the
cradle by the time it was finished. Perhaps there was some advantage in
this, because the curve of the rockers was so severe that being lulled to
sleep in this contraption could have induced major brain damage, or at
least severe bruising. The dolly test-occupant bounced from side to
leather upholstered side, like a druidic boxing glove pumelling an ancient
Britt punch bag to the rhythm of manic lullaby music.
I thought that perhaps with a few design modifications I could pursue such
psychologically rewarding work on a professional level. A furniture store
owner did offer me 90 UK Pounds each, for as many cradles as I could produce
but since the original took me 4 months to make, I declined the offer
and looked for alternatives.
In perceptive, forward thinking mode, I bought a computer for my daughter
Florrie, who was 4 years old by this time. She was almost totally
disinterested. I though that if I learned to do some things with it and
showed her the results, she would be inspired. She wasn't. Perhaps unlike
the cradle project, I'd introduced her to the concept too early. She's 12
years old at present and likes playing with other kids, eating sweets and
riding real and imaginary horses. Computers aren't a significant part of
her reality.
But Hey! Wait a minute, here comes the Internet. I can communicate with
people across the world, on subjects as diverse and way out as imaginable.
The Terminal Wingding Club is just right for me. I'd like to start helping to
achieve it's aims as early as possible, because judging by my past form at
meeting deadlines, by the time there are any practical results, I may well
have been dead for 6 months or more.
Ta ta,
-- Tony Halmarack =(*)= Tony@halmarax.demon.co.uk