Coffee Machine

CoffeeMachine

The Multi-Core Processor of a TARDIS

I awake from my very strange dreams, of which I remember nothing except they aren’t normal, I don’t dream about everyday happenings or have bad dreams, but strangely muddled up nonsense. I get ready for the day ahead, then it’s on to the computer at the earliest moment. It’s not always this way though. If I have to get up in the night, I may think up some combination of words or ideas, and that’s it, I can’t lose the moment, and set to, two fingers to the keyboard, either until I feel I could easily go back to sleep, or if I feel I just have to finish something while the going is good, then sleep goes out of the window until I’m fully satisfied I can’t edit and re-edit my completed piece any-more, knowing full well it will still be amended and tweaked on several more occasions during the following day, which because I’ve been up half the night, is already here. Then I get ready for the day ahead once more, and return to the computer yet again.

It’s not long before I desperately need a break, so I set forth into the town in search of material, ideas, or subjects to photograph. When you’ve lived in the same tiny town all your life, having seen nearly everyone you know leave for pastures green, or drop dead, then it becomes a fairly lonely existence. Mainly because there just isn’t anything to do, or any where to go in this town unless you have money falling out of every pocket. You soon find yourself developing an interest in anything that hasn’t been destroyed or blown away in the wind. A study of anything visible that can be photographed, soon has you becoming an expert on all sorts of details in every corner, from door knockers to railway bridges, church windows to drain covers, you name it, if it’s there, photograph it.

There’s no real centre where large crowds can gather, it’s each and everyone to their own, hidden behind doors throughout the town. Tourists come, tourists go, all within a few hours, and if there is anything of interest to them, then they’re driven off by parking restrictions, lack of toilets or Café’s being closed. If you want a conversation in Malmesbury, then probably the bread isle in any supermarket might turn up a recognizable face.

I’ve found the Abbey is the only place you can have a sit down, a drink of coffee, or wander around all day long, and find people to talk to. There are visitors from all over the country and the world, and often some sort of expert on buildings or related subjects, here to study some aspect or other. Then there are the officials and volunteers as well as the Café staff who are all very approachable and willing to depart any knowledge they have on any subject. As the hours, days, and weeks go by, there are also a multitude of events taking place within the building, from minor church services to packed out concerts or talks on many subject by experts from all over the globe. From local musicians to world class professionals, you can sit within touching distance and observe how any orchestral instrument is played or listen to the world’s leading expert on Old Saxon for instance. You name it, its probably taken place at Malmesbury Abbey at some time or other in the past 50 years.

I’d recommend anyone having wasted 10 minutes in the town’s museum, or having visited the brook surrounding the town, to seek out the Abbey Café, order a meal, or just a cake and a drink, to take a seat and relax, then study how talented craftsmen built unique and really interesting buildings a 1000 years ago, that can out do anything you’ll find in your average town any where across the country, with their identical-multinational chain stores, that you can step out of onto any high street and forget which town it was you were in. Then when you have exhausted all that the Abbey has to offer, I’d recommend you hurry back home, sell up lock stock and barrel, and either emigrate, or build yourself a TARDIS.

10 November, 2017
All images and written works by David Forward are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License