The answer lays in the old saying "you can't see the wood for the trees" or in other words, the best hiding place is right under your nose. After all, how many generations of blokes, with frozen fingers, had to leave their flies undone after having a jimmy-riddle, because their hands were too cold to do them up, before some bod nipped in to invent a zip-fastener*. Dead simple, wasn't it? Anybody could have thought of it, right under your noses, well give or take a couple of feet.
And how would women's liberation have got underway, if someone hadn't invented the bra for them to wave in the air? So there again was a simple solution which some clever so and so spotted, and is now rolling in the lap of luxury.
Perhaps inspiration would come more easily if we though of inventing something that would benefit our fellow creatures, rather than make our bank manager get out the port and king size cigars when he saw us instead of saying "About your overdraft, Mr Snooks".
As, for instance, the invention I came across when driving on holiday one year. We pulled in to a typical roadside café, with usual signs all over it. Eat at Pete's. Good pull up for drivers. Coaches welcome. Ladies and gents toilets at back etc etc etc. It was a very hot day, and after driving for some time through towns with one way circuits that nearly had me round the twist with frustration, as no matter which way I went, I came back to the town centre, and when I did get out it was on the way back to the town I'd just left; my wife and I were dying for a lovely quiet refreshing cuppa away from the madding crowd. The bloke who invented Hampton Court Maze was a novice compared to raving maniacs who plan the average one way system. Anyway, Eat at Pete's hove into view along a long lonely country road, which, according to the map, didn't exist, but was the only exit we could find from the jungle of road signs and prowling traffic wardens, waiting to pounce with their little plastic covered tickets at the ready.
The Taj Mahal couldn't have looked more beautiful than this corrugated jewel, nestling on it's carpet of loose dirt and empty Coca-Cola cans. We parked and made for the door where lay the soul reviving peace of a quiet sit down with a cuppa and maybe the added luxury of a cheese butty, as it was, after all, holiday time.
The thought of it hastened our steps towards the door which I opened in anticipation of joys to come, and was met by a blast of sound which bloody nigh knocked us back to the car. This bejewelled retreat, from the stresses of the one way circuit, was as a beautiful woman who nurtured a viper in her bosom. In this case, a damn great juke box standing in the corner, blaring out top of the pops, at the top of its strident metallic lungs. Well, the need of refreshment overcame all thoughts of retreat, and as I went to the counter to order, I came across this heaven sent invention which should have netted its inventor untold material gain and a place among the immortals to boot. Among the top twenty records available at a tanner a go, there it lay, the inspiration that sets a man above the beasts, a silent record, once without a groove, two whole minutes of silence bought for a miserable sprasi. Was there ever a better bargain offered to the road-weary traveller? I spent as many sixpences as I could manage to get in without smashing the teacups in the race to get to the monster before the local youths, who no doubt, felt that this was an intrusion into private lives, and could possibly have dangerous side effects in later years.
Young people cannot operate without the accompaniment of noise and too much silence unsettles them, possibly to the extent of eventual impotency, who knows? Maybe the unknown genius who had invented this gift to homo sapiens had deeper motives than golden silence and was really concerned about world population explosion. Only posterity will tell, and should it prove true, the silent record will be hailed as the most infallible contraceptive since the advent of the pill.
So put your minds at work and try to think of something that will enrich all people instead of only yourself, and you will find inspiration abounding.
This is what I have done, and am now working on a cure for lumbago, slipped disc, and all the numerous back ailments that afflict us today. As it will be in common use before this article is printed, I'll tell you all what it is that I have done.
It's a pair of scissors, three feet long, available in two grades, standard with wooden handles to be operated with two hands, or deluxe which expand from six inches to three feet, to be used with one hand from the hip, to enable folk with dodgy backs to cut their toenails without bending.
So carry on trying and I'll be happy to hear of your efforts and will write about them in a future article, if you would care to let me know about them.
Notes:
*Says wikipedia: the zipper beat the button in 1937 in the "Battle of the Fly", after French fashion designers raved over zippers in men's trousers. Esquire magazine declared the zipper the "Newest Tailoring Idea for Men" and among the zippered fly's many virtues was that it would exclude "The Possibility of Unintentional and Embarrassing Disarray".
Pleasingly (though I'll hazard, not from Grandads perspective) I've typed up this piece with that modern-ish jukebox, the CD player, on windows wide open and the Wharfedale's banging out a little bit of Iron Maiden, little knowing the narrative I was starting on a half hour or so ago. Next door will be wishing I had me the silent record.
Actually, silent records have a bit of history - see the attached.
http://musicweird.blogspot.com/2014/05/the-sounds-of-silence-brief-history-of.html
No comments:
Post a Comment