Last night I went to an event in Borough that was conceptually brilliant, fascinating in reality, but still deep down a bit annoying. Based on an inspired Japanese concept called a Pecha Kucha, there were fifteen speakers, each of whom were allowed to present twenty Powerpoint slides which scrolled automatically after twenty seconds. So, fifteen talks, each lasting six minutes and twenty seconds. What could be better for the MTV/ADD generation? Our fifteen speakers were all adventurers, and the night was in aid of a charity called Hope & Homes for Children. We heard some incredible stories: a male/female team who narrowly survived icy conditions in Patagonia; a man who was paralysed while climbing in Wales and went on to ascend Kilimanjaro in a specially designed wheelchair; a man who lived in a tree-house for a year to experiment with sustainability; a girl who rowed single handedly across the Indian Ocean. At one point, one of the speakers asked how many people in the room had climbed Everest, and several people put up their hands. It was quite a unique gathering.
And yet, and yet... I'm afraid my Guardian-reading side found it difficult to feel genuinely elated by these people's achievements. Sure, they are fantastic, and some of them have raised tens of thousands for charity. But some... haven't. And out of fifteen speakers, I'd estimate that at least twelve of them spoke with the plummy tones of someone who'd inherited more than just a few scratched CDs and a dirty Breville. I'm not saying their adventures weren't awesome and impressive. These people unquestionably pushed themselves to the limits of their ability and it was very interesting to hear what they'd seen. But who's to say what I would do if I'd grown up with enough money in the bank that meant getting a steady job wasn't a concern? If I'd had millions, maybe I would be cycling the globe or taking photographs while following Shackleton's route to the South Pole. OK, it's massively unlikely given that I'm fundamentally quite panicked if I know I'll be away from my sofa for more than 24 hours. But there was something that made me bristle about the guy who'd lived in a tree house telling us it had only cost £300 and that we can all have a life-changing adventure if we put our minds to it. Where did he build the tree house? Where did he get the land? Was it free? I doubt it. Another of the speakers decided to walk from London to Istanbul and set off three days later. Not the kind of option you can take if you've got a mortgage to pay or any other of the myriad commitments or responsibilities that come with normal existence. Adventures are one thing - the practicalities are another, and I'd have liked to have heard about them. There was a slightly patronising sense that a normal life was an inadequate life, and that put me on the defensive.
I was sitting next to a guy who laughingly understood my gripe, and told me about a bicycle courier who'd decided to stick two fingers up at the 'adventure capitalists'. The final post of his blog, following his cycle round the world, is here in all its vitriolic glory. I think he could have made his point just as effectively without villifying one individual in the way he does - but it (and the comments underneath) still make interesting reading, IMHO.
What was unequivocally good was the evening's main charity, Hopes and Homes. The main man explained the work they do in Central & Eastern Europe, and in Africa. One of the examples he gave was of two young brothers whose dad had died of AIDS when they were babies. When their mother also died of AIDS, the neighbours were too scared of the disease in her body and wouldn't remove the corpse. These two tiny boys had to live, alone, in a crappy house, with the corpse of their mother, for five weeks. I had had two glasses of wine by this point and the tears were streaming down my face. I don't know what's going on with my hormones at the moment but I'm very emotional. Anyway - it seems like an absolutely incredible charity, and if anyone can spare anything after Haiti, please click here.
In other news, my friend met a guy on Saturday night who took a fancy to her. Sadly the feeling wasn't mutual. Yesterday she received an email that included the following: "Since you haven't become my friend on Facebook, I am now emailing you. (I'm impatient)." No shit. And he ended by giving her his mobile number, "in case you are impatient like me and you want to text or call. If you're not, I'll be fine. After a couple of months in therapy." Goodness. No pressure.
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