A wetsuit is a great piece of technology. It's made of neoprene and designed to act as another layer of skin and keep you warm in the water.
Put a wetsuit on for the first time and it feels strange - foreign - because it is foreign - it's not you.
But you get used to it, and putting it on feels more natural. It becomes part of you and you stop noticing it.
Technology that works seems to disappear from our awareness. We don't notice when things work quietly. But when they go wrong we're suddenly reminded of their presence.
What's wrong?
A slither of cold slices at my ankle - the cold ocean stabs through a hole in the wetsuit.
What if nothing went 'wrong', if we floated forever in an amniotic fluid. I suppose we sometimes try to do that. Numb the senses - alcohol, sofas, melt into another.
hoo laa laa be doo daa daa.
The point. Not piercing the many layers so well ignored.
The dart hits the pub floor. Bob bends to pick it up, his crack at the bulls eye sends his crack to the sky.
He pulls it out the floor then takes another swig of his pint.
A pint glass is a pretty harmonious piece of technology.
Ignored, it serves Bob another gulp.
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