I can honestly say that nothing earth-shatteringly extraordinary has happened this week. Nothing to write about anyway. It was a lovely, normal week.
Whenever I read historical fiction I am always curious about some of the everyday things that are left out of the text. I flick through the BBC History magazine and am confused (actually that state is not restricted to perusing BBC History) about the purpose of some of the objects they have managed to unearth. There was that long metal baster type thing – seriously interesting and you would not believe how ingenious an item it turned out to be (that’s for another day). Then it occurs to me that my everyday mundane objects and situations will, in all probability, be an item of curiosity in a hundred years time.
Even now, when we pull out an LP at school and ask the children what it is only about 20% can answer and that’s because their parents or grandparents still use theirs. For the rest of us, me included, we’re used to the digital format whether it be a cd or mp3 player. The latest generation aren’t used to cds either. Everything is either downloaded straight from the web or popped onto a memory stick or SD card. Something to note – radio is still alive and kicking!
So, while nothing of great import has happened this week, it might be worth remembering that in a hundred years time someone may be grateful for the minutiae of my daily life, if only so they can work out what the hell that metal thing with the bristles is (btw it is my boot scrubber!), and I’m not delving into the contents of my bedside drawer…
If I were able to pick out anything of real excitement (exciting to you that is) then it has to be the birth of my cousin’s baby boy. After a day of painful labour they finally took her away and gave her a c-section. How barbaric will that seem in a hundred years time? And which bit – the cutting open or making her endure the painful contractions of labour?
I have to admit a certain morbid curiosity whenever I find myself in the ‘History of Medicine’ section either at the British Museum or the Science Museum. I’m sure it says much more about me than the curator.