Philosophy On The Cheap

 

          I had only gone to the outdoor adventure superstore to buy some toilet fluid for the campervan but I could not resist a bit of fantasy shopping while I was there. I was almost tempted to buy some plastic plates that were cleverly shaped to be held in one hand rather than laid on a level surface. The design seemed obvious for table-free dining, so why had it taken so long for someone to come up with it? Considering I haven’t slept in a tent for years, I have an inexplicably lingering obsession with camping utensils.

          Yes, at last, the campervan season is upon us. I spent a couple of nights last week in mid-Wales, just outside the former market town of Llanidloes and, so as not to alienate the locals, I asked the owner of the campsite for its correct pronunciation. “We call it Lanny”’ she said. When I went to have a poke around the town on Saturday morning I found it has that alternative vibe associated with an influx of incomers looking for a haven. The medieval butter market still stands in the middle of the road – awkwardly at odds with modern traffic flow – and the characterful buildings from its prosperous Victorian heyday are intact, if a little run down. Many have been re-purposed and there are quite a few independent retail outlets, interspersed with second-hand shops. I sense that its rural economy is nowadays supplemented with tourist income. There is still a functioning library-cum-museum, but it was deserted when I went in and the librarian looked surprised to see me. On one of the tables was a stack of copies of The Light, a free publication associated with the far right and conspiracy theorists. As I flicked through, I was taken aback by a strapline that stated, “no illness has ever been caused by a virus” and would have read on in the hope of enlightenment if the librarian had not stirred to remind me it was closing time. Following that unexpected encounter with unreason, Lanny took on a slightly sinister aura as I left it in the rear-view mirror.

          I was happy to return to the city and the company of my fully vaccinated social circle, in particular the philosophy discussion group under the auspices of the University of the Third Age (U3A). We number, at most, half a dozen and are currently learning a bit about the ancient Greeks. But our other preoccupation is finding a meeting space that is suitable, by which I mean free of charge, quiet and available around lunchtime – but mainly free of charge. We used to be happily accommodated in the lounge of the Theatre Royal, but its open-plan arrangement can be too noisy. All the cafes we contemplated as alternatives were similarly afflicted. In fact, it’s a mystery to me how the distinguished intellectuals who famously traded ideas in the cafes of Paris and Vienna managed to make themselves heard above the din. Could it be explained by the fact of their relative youth and soundness of hearing? As for the Greeks, it is easy to imagine that they could just have met outdoors.

          So, we went across the road to the Travelodge, where there is a lounge-cum-breakfast area that is deserted between the hours of 10.00 and 15.00. The receptionist, Lilly, was pleased to make us tea and even agreed to turn off the TV and the muzak while we held our meetings. But, alas, those days are no more. This week, Lilly’s manager was on site, enforcing the regulations concerning corporate branding, especially those relating to the TV and muzak playing constantly in empty spaces. Before leaving we agreed reluctantly to meet at the Theatre Royal next time. I’d swear that even Lilly, sensing we would not return, looked dispirited as we abandoned her to her corporate fate.