Uncertainty
What will I miss when I move to the country?
Everything.
On Sunday afternoon I went mudlarking on the Thames foreshore with Catherine Mayer. There was still no government. Exhausted from nights spent sleeplessly covering and commenting on the election, Catherine filled me in on the intricacies of various potential power alliances while we walked through the City to the river. As London Bureau Chief of Time Magazine, she kept a watchful eye on her Blackberry in case it was suddenly necessary either to rush or send others rushing to the seat of power.
‘Is this a seventeenth century sherd?’ she asked, as helicopters pulsed overhead.
They must be conveying Prime Ministers, would be Prime Ministers or ministerial hopefuls to very important meetings, I thought. ‘Yes’ I said.
We picked up pieces of Roman pots, medieval ceramic, salt-glazed stone ware, seventeenth century trailed slip ware, impressed and pierced cream ware and nineteenth century transfer printed ware. The whole history of ceramic was under our feet.
‘Silence from the Conservatives is novel’ she said. ‘Recently I’ve been used to receiving multiple press releases per hour’.
The sherds are rounded by centuries of slow abrasion. They tell us about changing taste and fashion, tracing our history and beliefs — indicators of change and continuity.
‘It is worth checking what people are tweeting’ said Catherine.
‘So twitter really is useful as a news tool?’ I asked.
‘Oh yes. It’s the immediacy of people’s responses that make it useful. You can see how they are thinking.’
The tide was coming in. The gulls were leaving. Soon the shore would be covered up again. That’s pretty certain, I thought.
