Ever since that silly advert claiming that smartphone and WiFi technology combined meant that because translation is such a straightforward activity requiring so little effort it could be accomplished while sitting on the toilet, I have found myself from time to time wondering about where exactly my friends post their Facebook and other contributions from.
Not that it is any of my business, of course. I would hazard a guess that for less serious work, at least half are not doing it from their office, their desk, or even their home. They are on the bus, train or plane, on the beach, in a café, take-away, restaurant or library. Either that, or they are taking photographs of mountains, museums and other marvels and expressing themselves from those locations. I daresay very few are “on the throne” while in the act of posting, although I have it on good authority that a lot of thinking goes on in the smallest room in the house, hence most people’s demands not to be disturbed when seated thus.
Well today I am blogging from bed. Ordinarily, I am a sit-up-straight at the desk sort of person and can do that for hours. In fact, I like doing it. Just as well, since my work demands it. I seem to suffer less from physical complaints caused by hours of being desk-bound than many other translators, but I suppose it might be because I have sorted out my posture and established the most suitable number of breaks away from my desk for me. These are strongly linked to my dual need for coffee and 10-minute bouts of gardening.
But today, I am ill and feverish; the tail end of the winter wind snapping spitefully on the heels of blossoming spring evenings has caught me in its wake. I have succumbed, rather conveniently, on a Saturday, and on a weekend on which I had elected to take it easy, moreover. My brain cannot manage the rigours of translation, but is quite happy producing a mass of other words structured grammatically in a coherent message. So, after dutifully resting, also known as passing out, for the entire afternoon, I needed to feel that familiar keyboard under my fingers. And that is why I am blogging from bed.
My car is also under the weather and currently sits at the mechanic awaiting a replacement distributor. This meant a 20-minute slow walk to the café this morning. I can normally do that walk in 10 minutes, but was disinclined to exert myself today. Besides, all the fields are full of flowers; fig trees have their first leaves, the occasional almond tree has started to blossom and I really do take pleasure in gazing at them.
Blogging from bed is not all that it is cut out to be. One’s backside suffers, for starters. This is good for you, the reader, since this blog will be a lot shorter as a result.
I had to mention the short walk above so that I could introduce an unknown person’s special place to sit.
If I did not know better, I would say that this “only happens in Africa”. But this an orange orchard in rural Portugal, and I would guess that this seat belongs to the owner of the extensive property, so these photos are not about poverty either. They are about simplicity, and a certain messiness. This ties in perfectly with the blogging from bed scenario. In the interests of retaining a modicum of dignity, however, I shall not be taking photos of the hotch-potch of things one needs to be surrounded by to blog from bed. Instead, here is a close-up of the stranger’s seat. Numbing, to say the least, I should think.
If I had decent WiFi, I bet I could blog from a seat like that. After all, my backside has already got experience in blogging from bed. I would probably choose a spot beneath an olive tree, though.
©2016 Allison Wright