The Lockwood Echo is 300 days old today.
To celebrate, I’m spending the day doing very little. I had a practice run yesterday. It went quite well. Admittedly an unconventional anniversary, but I don’t want to regret missing an opportunity if I don’t make it to a full year.
300 sounds like a big number and so I started thinking about comparisons, to help give it some perspective. Was 300 worthy of a celebration?
(This post will be categorised and tagged ‘ODD‘. So if ODD isn’t your thing;
a) You took a wrong turn somewhere.
b) Where’s your sense of adventure?
c) Did you ever notice that ‘Odd’ has an odd number of letters and ‘Even’ has an even number? No. Why would you? You have a life).
So. I have the number 300 to play with.
If it was a bus, I could pootle round London’s East End.
If it was a film, it would be done. It’s just going to be called that. A simple title referring to 300 Spartans. I take Wikipedia’s word for it.
If it was miles, I could cross the widest part of Britain – as the crow flies – and still have change to do a bit of sightseeing. Because that’s what crows like to do after a long flight. Collect their baggage, flash their passports, then off to a touristy Place Of Interest before relaxing with a cocktail in the nearest Crow Bar.
If it was British Sterling, it could buy me around 200 bags of chips. Oh yes I would. The amount of vinegar needed would be a whole other big number, because I do like chips with my vinegar.
If it was US Dollars, I’d have about $400 to spend. I’ve never been to the United States. I have no idea what they sell. So it’s difficult to guess what I might buy.
If I was a baby, at 300 days I’d suddenly stop babbling and start speaking proper English so that my parents could finally understand me. I would also start pointing at things. Things that I don’t actually want you to give me. If I wanted it, with my new language skills I would simply say ‘Could you kindly pass me the blue stuffed bear Mummy’. I’m just pointing things out to you in case you hadn’t seen them. The toy that makes the crinkly noises, my dummy, that beetle, my toes, the sky. Stop giving me stuff. I’ve only got little hands, I can’t hold it all. And I’m only going to dribble on it anyway. Actually, could you pass me that beetle Mummy?
If I was a puppy, I’d be in my teenage years at 300 days. And a whole heap of trouble. Just like human teenagers, I will have stopped listening to you, I would start to lose my cute exterior and I’d need to be offered my favourite treats to be encouraged to do anything new.
So 300 does seem worthy of that celebration. You can go far, buy lots, move on in life and trick people into giving you your favourite snacks.
If you are still here and you’ve decided that maybe ODD is your thing after all, there’s plenty like that to be found within these pages. may I recommend PUNK and BOOK to further fulfill your odd taste.
If you’re still here and this has confirmed that ODD really isn’t your thing, then please accept my apologies. No you will never get that time back. And I’m not sure how to make it up to you. Cake?