The art of the loaf
The art of loafing is nothing to do with twisting some seeds into your dough, calling the result ‘rustic’ and charging three quid for it, rather, it is dedication to relaxation.
Not that I have anything against work, industry and achievement, as long as it’s done properly, for instance the production of traction engines rather than the industrialisation of penguin genocide.
Don’t worry, this is not going to be another bloody post extolling the virtues of the shed. But I will just point out that, generally, anything produced in a shed is likely to improve the world. Brass clockwork novelty delights are made in sheds. Destructive ideologies are not. They, like bummers, are made in prison cells or public schools. Workshops too turn out useful components and a number of workshops combined can turn out, for instance, charming cars.
Things start to go wrong when you industrialise on a factory scale, because not long after you get fed up with all the whinging and move production somewhere with a far more relaxed attitude to the minimum wage, where quality control can be enforced through the occasional execution. The downside to this is that your workers will occasionally either try to smuggle themselves out of the country in the boot of the car they have just built, or record an impassioned plea for better conditions on the ‘phone they are boxing up.
The British Empire was, of course, founded on outsourcing and foreign labour. We exported the British brand, and the pox, around the world and imported all sorts in return, like a lingering sense of entitlement and assumption that everyone should speak English.
Actual work can be measured thusly: do you start with a task that has measurable goals? Do you end with a sense of a job well done and a well deserved pint? Then that’s work. Anything else is just dicking around.
In the twenty first century, it’s getting harder to relax. Otherwise, why would there be a whole industry dedicated to helping us do so? Time was, relaxing was easy. You toiled until you were shaky with fatigue then drank cider until you were lying down. Uncomplicated.
Now, we think we are relaxing when we are in fact not. For instance, sitting in front of the television might be considered by some to be a form of relaxation. And it is, if you are watching a DVD of; a flickering fire, a lady playing the harp or a blank screen. Anything else is too much stimulation. Soaps now frequently end not just with a drum roll and an actor holding an expression in a manner unencountered in real life outside of anyone pictured straining for a shit, but with a help line for people affected by issues. And ‘documentaries’ that are ostensively intended to make us feel better about ourselves by chronicling the dysfunctional lives of those with for instance amusing mental health issues, an addiction to biscuits, being fucking clueless about how to organise a wedding, a predilection for acts of self pollution involving Pot Noodle or just being chavs, simply result in the viewer being made to feel simultaneously uncomfortable and sad.
Mobile ‘phones have put an end to the micro-loaf, those few minutes where one might reasonably be expected to not think about very much at all. No bugger looks out of train windows any more, they are all either playing games or updating their status to from ‘on platform’ to ‘on train’.
Loafing takes effort. First off, you need a free afternoon in the week. Then, you need to get into your pyjama trousers AND to be comfortable answering the door in them if required. Then, you need find somewhere comfortable to lie horizontally that is not a bed. Finally, you need to go through all the tedious things you should be doing instead, and realise that they are either not that urgent, not that important, or will be so much better achieved after a rest.
After a while, you will wake up. With luck, the light will have drained from the sky meaning a) your attire is socially acceptable and b) you can now uncork dinner and move to phase two: unwinding.
Not that I have anything against work, industry and achievement, as long as it’s done properly, for instance the production of traction engines rather than the industrialisation of penguin genocide.
Don’t worry, this is not going to be another bloody post extolling the virtues of the shed. But I will just point out that, generally, anything produced in a shed is likely to improve the world. Brass clockwork novelty delights are made in sheds. Destructive ideologies are not. They, like bummers, are made in prison cells or public schools. Workshops too turn out useful components and a number of workshops combined can turn out, for instance, charming cars.
Things start to go wrong when you industrialise on a factory scale, because not long after you get fed up with all the whinging and move production somewhere with a far more relaxed attitude to the minimum wage, where quality control can be enforced through the occasional execution. The downside to this is that your workers will occasionally either try to smuggle themselves out of the country in the boot of the car they have just built, or record an impassioned plea for better conditions on the ‘phone they are boxing up.
The British Empire was, of course, founded on outsourcing and foreign labour. We exported the British brand, and the pox, around the world and imported all sorts in return, like a lingering sense of entitlement and assumption that everyone should speak English.
Actual work can be measured thusly: do you start with a task that has measurable goals? Do you end with a sense of a job well done and a well deserved pint? Then that’s work. Anything else is just dicking around.
In the twenty first century, it’s getting harder to relax. Otherwise, why would there be a whole industry dedicated to helping us do so? Time was, relaxing was easy. You toiled until you were shaky with fatigue then drank cider until you were lying down. Uncomplicated.
Now, we think we are relaxing when we are in fact not. For instance, sitting in front of the television might be considered by some to be a form of relaxation. And it is, if you are watching a DVD of; a flickering fire, a lady playing the harp or a blank screen. Anything else is too much stimulation. Soaps now frequently end not just with a drum roll and an actor holding an expression in a manner unencountered in real life outside of anyone pictured straining for a shit, but with a help line for people affected by issues. And ‘documentaries’ that are ostensively intended to make us feel better about ourselves by chronicling the dysfunctional lives of those with for instance amusing mental health issues, an addiction to biscuits, being fucking clueless about how to organise a wedding, a predilection for acts of self pollution involving Pot Noodle or just being chavs, simply result in the viewer being made to feel simultaneously uncomfortable and sad.
Mobile ‘phones have put an end to the micro-loaf, those few minutes where one might reasonably be expected to not think about very much at all. No bugger looks out of train windows any more, they are all either playing games or updating their status to from ‘on platform’ to ‘on train’.
Loafing takes effort. First off, you need a free afternoon in the week. Then, you need to get into your pyjama trousers AND to be comfortable answering the door in them if required. Then, you need find somewhere comfortable to lie horizontally that is not a bed. Finally, you need to go through all the tedious things you should be doing instead, and realise that they are either not that urgent, not that important, or will be so much better achieved after a rest.
After a while, you will wake up. With luck, the light will have drained from the sky meaning a) your attire is socially acceptable and b) you can now uncork dinner and move to phase two: unwinding.
Labels: Games, Leisure, Mobile phones, Relaxing, teevee, Work
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