A Few Days in a Dark Place

I've just spent six days in a small dark room, alone, cut off from the world, listening to voices. I hasten to add that I was there of my own free will, not at the pleasure of Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II. Any grumpiness detectable is my own fault. It was fully serviced - about once an hour a polystyrene cup containing a warm beige substance which resembled, in a purely peripheral sense, coffee, was handed to me. In a room nearby, pastries, sandwiches* and occasional hot food. I arrived at about 09.30 in the morning and left at about 2300 in the evening. In between these times I tweaked a few lights, moved a few faders, read a few newspapers and contemplated life and the richness it contains. Ah, the pleasures of televised poker.

Deprived of daylight for so long I feel the need for an uplifting natural image. Hence the snowdrops, harbingers of spring and damned fine plants to boot.

*Why do caterers automatically infest any form of sandwich with either a dayglo glob of tomato or a slimy slice of cucumber. Neither of these foods are remotely edible and I have to deconstruct each offering into a nearby bin or plastic cup before consuming.