Flash Mob ’13: Lots of groovy flash (and… me)

So, you know that scene in Bridget Jones when she turns up to a party dressed as a bunny girl? I’m one of those people.

I could drink black coffee for years, or live on a diet of champagne and mineral water, but when the Queen pops round for tea, she’ll catch me sucking evaporated milk out of the tin (just to try).

I was on telly twice.

The first time, I was with a boyfriend; we were at the Royal Show, and he saw no reason not to wear studs, so we got onto The Clothes Show as the worst dressed people there.  OK, technically he did, but I was right up there with him, making my mother proud.

The second time, I was sipping away at my diet coke in Richmond when someone asked if they could take my picture — yeah, sure, why not? That’s how I ended up on the documentary about ‘women who drink too much’.

So when Flash Mob said, ‘Send in a funny picture with your story’, everyone else thought they’d send in NICE pictures. Not me. No. I sent in the mother of all uglies.

Anyway, here’s the link to the very groovy Flash Mob 2013 series and it’s well worth the look, for the stories there — try this one: Alison Wells’ holographic dogs. Good, no? And I really like James Claffey’s story, Incubus. A story not included in the  main page, but well worth a read, is Michelle Elvy’s Antarctica (I love Michelle’s writing, big fan).

Claire King, meanwhile, has written one that drove me to a dictionary.

pareidolia  (ˌpæraɪˈdəʊlɪə)

— n.

the imagined perception of a pattern or meaning where it does not actually exist, as in considering the moon to have human features.



  1. chris says:

    Indeed, there are some great stories in the Flash Mob. And I *love* your photo! And Claire King’s awesome word. Wondering how I could use it today. Maybe call someone a pareidolist…

    • t upchurch says:

      Hi, thanks Chris. I have no idea how I would use ‘pareidolic’ — would it relate to the person seeing the significance/s, or the thing giving them out? Could you have a pareidolic house, where the wallpaper was all fractals and universes, and the curtains were full of faces, or would it have to be the observer?

        • t upchurch says:

          I once wrote a story about old men’s faces in curtains. The old 1970’s chintz, nice. The wallpaper would daunt me. I would, however, be interested in a pareidolic face — one where you see a face that’s not really there. (Kind of a subtler version of Voldemort on the back of Prof. Quirrell’s head). What if there were an old face whose wrinkles made it look like eyes within eyes — the old lady who swallowed a fly, the wrinkly eye within an eye, ears the shape of curled dragons. Yeah, I’m reeeeally digressing here.

          • chris says:

            Not at all… I think you should write that into a flash. Would love to read the one about the old men’s faces. Have you ever read Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s The Yellow Wallpaper?

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