The company has launched the loyal service badges to recognise colleagues who have notched-up notable milestones of 1, 5, 10, 20, 30, and 40 years of service.Įach colleague will be presented with two badges for every milestone attained – one for public display and the other as a keepsake. Graham Harvey and Brian Glover were awarded loyal service badges for serving for 46 years and 43 years respectively. Speaking of time, I'm still listening to these crickets, and I can't decide which of the two mild cricket-induced hallucinations swirling through my brain I'd rather slip into: that of a frozen ice cavern that's got a nice blue tint (because it's cold), or a daydream of burrowing into hay.A presentation has taken place at Boughey Distribution in Nantwich to honour two colleagues who have collectively served for 89 years. (I'm aware that I'm now adding to the pile, and that this rambling may come off as a thin attempt to create a blog post about a cricket orchestra I'd set my heart on sharing before finding out it was actually a year old and thus not current enough for the hyper-relevant blog cycle, but I'd argue that's a pretty goddamn cynical thought for a Friday afternoon when we all know we're daydreaming of pizza and tequila anyway.) My current source link trail ended with a home page, not an article, at which point I've given up and ctrl-W'd all the related articles I pulled up. It's an interesting commentary on time, as is the fact that such a piece of work-which was actually published to Soundcloud a year ago-continues to make regular appearances in the ever-mounting detritus of the internet. But as you can't actually slow their lifespan, measured in months, to stretch out into years, Wilson instead stretched their song. This human-speed cricket concept is based on the idea that crickets live much shorter lives than we do. Many of them are currently reverberating in my head. There, we find a bit more info: the normal cricket-y sounds, which are currently pulsating into the back of my skull, is a track of crickets at regular speed, with the human-speed track layered underneath. In a bid to find more info, I headed through to the first site's source link, an article published a month ago. Who'd have guessed mere crickets could sound like a choir of ghosts warming their pipes in an old barn? The result is a haunting soundscape that's impressive in its largesse.
Wilson, billed as an experimental director and playwright at the link where we were first introduced, recorded crickets' nighttime song then-because crickets are faster paced than we humans, as the narrator notes-slowed the track down to human levels of speed and pitch. Thankfully, the slow moan of Robert Wilson's recording remains conducive to a clean stream of uninterrupted thought. But I suppose I, like many of us, fall under the 2013 definition: I often find myself typing emails while walking and talking on the phone I'm currently developing a cocktail called the Ctrl-W and I've currently got so many tabs open that they no longer show their icons, which means I've been listening to a cricket orchestra for an hour straight because I can't find the tab I opened from a tweet, for reasons unknown, sometime this morning. I'm not sure if power users still exist-or PC enthusiast magazines, for that matter.
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