Cal wrote-
Quote:I can believe that, spendius. I picture your neighborhood to be full of old crones and geezers.
I'm not typical of my neighbourhood.
Have a look at the picture of Earl's Palace ruin on Mac's link.
What does it say about vanity? It has set its teeth into the face of the wind-whipped waves of rain, sleet and snow (and we can still see how proudly and determinedly) and it has been pissed on. It looks a bit like the end-game of a snowman.
Its decay has probably been arrested by the Tourist Board at the present state of things. Another form of vanity which will be pissed on in its turn.
Restoration being as impossible a thing to contemplate as shoveling it on to trucks for base material in a road for reasons too Byzantine to explain but which can be boiled down to feather bedders fighting their corner.
The dereliction might even have been accelerated in places for dramatic effect. Who knows? You can do things up there in the long, dark nights of winter that nobody will ever know about unless you tell them. You could get a tape of ghostly incantatations to play at some astrologically auspicious moments and there would be Coca-Cola stands and burgher franchises sprouting up like mushrooms in the lower paddock.
Maybe the fascination with such things is due to a deep, unconscious yearning for the simpler times which are often thought by fools to have existed in the past. Modern life being a bit daunting is, I suppose, one of the reasons but I don't discount sheer boredom coming into conjunction with a chance happening in the immediate visual field as the spark.
I once sent a postcard of greeting to a vicar of the C. of E. which showed a church on Islay with no roof or windows and some sheep grazing on the grass growing where I presume the worshippers had once knelt to pray that it would stup phucking pissing down and blowing a teeth-chattering gale.
He was the only C. of E. vicar, he's been promoted since, to ever have been spotted chugging up the main drag in a Morris Minor through a snowstorm during the pre-Xmas till-jingling introduction to the eating and drinking festival with a full scale rocking-horse fastened on his roof rack. Had daughters two. His promotion took him to hunting country so those girls were being shown the rudiments of riding.
I'm all for modern life as Clary hinted. The next generation of computers will be capable of providing fairly realistic interaction scenarios between members of sites such as this as good as makes no difference. Maybe better.
I've not got the technical details sorted out yet. I'm not much good at technology. I had to saw a Smartie tube in half last week with the breadknife.
Initially, to allow time for the fuddie-duddies to cark it, it would have to be restricted to the PM system of course. Fully moderated.
Even I can see that there will be two basic types of computer and desk set-ups. The Yinner and the Yanger. Each will spawn ever more perfected solutions in the normal and natural manner. Indeed they will be unable to prevent themselves from doing so.
Spending time and effort, money in a word, on Megalithic ruins can only arise from long rhapsodising on the Willendorf Venus and other such pre-pagan crudities.
It's corsets and hundred buttoned basques now.
