In a story I’m writing, a man, in the meeting room of a business organisation, alone by reason of there being no meeting and, frankly, by his having no business being there, finds himself musing upon – in monologue or mumbled memoir – ‘the whys and wherefores’, as he would put it, of ‘our very good friend, the flipchart’.
This reminded me, in the way that writing on flipcharts will, of two peachy examples I bagged of the flipchart genre my character describes as ‘the abandoned art facts, the intimate tell-tale sheets that cannot speak and yet somehow equally dare not lie’, asking also; ‘what secrets could all the old flipcharts one day give up, if they were one day in the far-flung future discovered buried deep within an episode of TV’s Time Team, for example, in the future?’ – referring, as he is, to the coming across of flipcharts left over from earlier meetings.
One such is a real sneakily-took photo. The other a most faithful reconstruction. I love them both.
© Copyright, Steve Mitchell and Fisher Lane, 2012