Whiter Than White

A Journal Entry:

“I sip my coffee. The iPad in front of me is out of date, a ‘generation two’. It makes searching net tedious, and there is frustration that I can no longer download iMovie. At the moment, I’m re-searching MoJo Journalism. MoJo is mobile journalism using only the most basic of equipment. In the past, a 35mm camera, notebook and pencil were the necessary journalistic tools. Today an iPhone, tripod, microphone and editing software can allow a journalist to produce an item anywhere in the world, and publish it in an hour. I see the potential for MoJo at The ‘Well Being Shows’ Liz, and I organise. Although I have a MacBook Pro for business use and it has Final Cut editing software, I like the idea of editing on an iPad. My fingers are too big to use iMovie on my phone.

On eBay, there are plenty of iPads. A 6th Generation iPad with 256gb of storage and 4G will cost around four-hundred pounds. Yes, this will be my next purchase. After the decision is made, I follow the usual path of researching iPads. My coffee is getting cold, and for a moment, my thoughts are on sipping the coffee without spilling it on my whiter than white tee shirt.

Some of My ‘Chemicals”

Some of my friends know I am obsessed with clean clothes. Working out how to get linen-fresh snow white is one of my most significant challenges. Next to the washing machine is a collection of cleaning powders, flakes and liquids, stain soaps, bicarbonate of soda, soda crystals. When travelling the World, I always return with a new white-washing miracle chemical. My holy grail is not a golden challis. It is blinding white shirts. A coffee stain is one of the most difficult ones to deal with unless the wet coffee is washed out of the material; it will stain the cotton.

Liz is downstairs: I hear choking: “Lizzy, are you ok?” No reply, my voice is raised “Lizzy, are you ok?” No response: Christ Lizzy is choking, and there is silence. Fuck, I don’t want Lizzy to die, out of bed in a second, racing down the stairs “Lizzy, are you ok?”

In the kitchen, Liz is folding my white shirts. She has hiccups, loud and strange sounding. “Christ, I thought you were choking. I called and then shouted, you didn’t hear” “I couldn’t hear what you were saying: I have hiccups: did you know you’ve spilt coffee on your tee-shirt?”

Panic over. I realise how much Lizzy means to me: the fear of her choking went through me like the knife of an assassin. The shirt is put in to soak. I decide there is no need for an iPad. Other things in life are far more important”.

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