A discussion of sentimentality
A strange thing happened today; I learned of the demise of a piece of equipment and it made me sad. Me, a born cynic who doesn't really sign-up to the realms of sentimental attachment to inanimate objects.
Until it happened, I outwardly displayed I thought it wrong, while secretly jealous of those who did. I suppose if you think of the secretly held shame of a Tory politician feels when reading the coroner's report into an erotic asphyxiation death, you're near the mark of my feelings this morning. My aloof logical side told me I want to show nothing, but deep down I knew I was conflicted and wanted to mourn the loss of a Philips filter coffee machine. I suppose I need to explain to myself and therefore others why such an attachment to a small electrical item exists.
It was nearly seven years ago, at a tender age of 21 that I stepped up the stairs to my first real job - at the offices of Cinemas-online.co.uk. With bright eyes and a satchel-full of naivety I was introduced by Andrew and Colin onto the programming team by drinking black, strong, caffeine-rich filtered goodness that beforehand I wouldn't have touched. However, mug after mug guzzled kept me sharp in order to get code finished before deadline. I remember the regular trips to the supermarket buying the raw materials for such a high level of consumption; indeed I'm still benefiting from those Nectar points now, after finding my card in an old box. There was the time someone purchased French-blend by mistake - the nasty horrible stuff made us go dry for a day, until productivity dropped to a point where we decided to nip out to buy some real stuff.
That little little device was a wonderful thing. Perhaps I am too quick to dismiss sentimentality, or perhaps my sentimentality is more worthy than that of others. I mean missing a fridge is a bit weird, as is an old pen. However, for some reason that Philips Comfort Plus filter machine caught me this morning.
A strange thing happened today; I learned of the demise of a piece of equipment and it made me sad. Me, a born cynic who doesn't really sign-up to the realms of sentimental attachment to inanimate objects.
Until it happened, I outwardly displayed I thought it wrong, while secretly jealous of those who did. I suppose if you think of the secretly held shame of a Tory politician feels when reading the coroner's report into an erotic asphyxiation death, you're near the mark of my feelings this morning. My aloof logical side told me I want to show nothing, but deep down I knew I was conflicted and wanted to mourn the loss of a Philips filter coffee machine. I suppose I need to explain to myself and therefore others why such an attachment to a small electrical item exists.
It was nearly seven years ago, at a tender age of 21 that I stepped up the stairs to my first real job - at the offices of Cinemas-online.co.uk. With bright eyes and a satchel-full of naivety I was introduced by Andrew and Colin onto the programming team by drinking black, strong, caffeine-rich filtered goodness that beforehand I wouldn't have touched. However, mug after mug guzzled kept me sharp in order to get code finished before deadline. I remember the regular trips to the supermarket buying the raw materials for such a high level of consumption; indeed I'm still benefiting from those Nectar points now, after finding my card in an old box. There was the time someone purchased French-blend by mistake - the nasty horrible stuff made us go dry for a day, until productivity dropped to a point where we decided to nip out to buy some real stuff.
That little little device was a wonderful thing. Perhaps I am too quick to dismiss sentimentality, or perhaps my sentimentality is more worthy than that of others. I mean missing a fridge is a bit weird, as is an old pen. However, for some reason that Philips Comfort Plus filter machine caught me this morning.
{Originally posted to my facespace notes}
