Bascomb's Regrets

Balancing on the plank over the water to steady the camera for a time exposure, I heard a quiet little ‘ploop’ as I felt something slide gently but substantially out of my shirt pocket. My first thought was, ‘wow, my Windows Smartphone sure does look like a little fish down there, floating to the bottom of the Adriatic’. My second thought was, ‘What will the locals think, sitting on the benches above me, when I strip and dive after my precious piece of digital communications gear?’ It was the story I could hear being told over breakfast that made me just straighten up, snap a few more pictures with my camera, and then wander off as if nothing had happened. I returned after dinner and dessert, of course, around midnight, suitably dressed, to find a bunch of kids swimming around in the harbor. So I joined them, swam far out to the center of the harbor, and then returned after they had gone. Yes, the phone was fried (even after the fresh-water treatment alongside my laundry) but it’s the SIM and memory card I was after, and they were okay after a night in the fridge.

I know the word for pen in every language of the countries I’ve visited this trip. That’s because I’ve bought six of them. For some reason I like to keep them close at hand, but am very clumsy with them and lay them across bus seats on twisty roads or ‘donate’ them to museum curators. So when I saw this installation in Vienna I had to laugh. Doubly, since the pens in the exhibit contain no ink.