THE CLOSE OUT – OFF DAY
In a world where we are obliged to always be ‘on’, Finn Mullen advocates the benefits of being off.
With Finn Mullen // Photo Alan Bennett
Unofficially off
I aimed like a sniper and slapped the laptop lid closed with a snap; only all that I was assassinating today was a spreadsheet. Computers are great, when you turn them off. Today was going to be an off day, now I don’t mean one of those days you book a year and a half in advance with your employer or have negotiated as a day release from her majesty’s pleasure. This was an off day that has no official terms or conditions; a clandestine mission with deniable responsibility (Magic Seaweed made me do it). This was an off day that was 5-6 foot, offshore and going off (if you’re Australian), off the hook (if you’re American and grew up in 1986) or off the dial (if you’re too hip for your own skinny jeans). In the UK it’s also more commonly known as skiving off, a sport which is a great partner for SUP paddling. At some point in every surfer’s life comes that moment when it’s sunny, your friends are going to the beach, the forecast is perfect and your to do list has to shrink instantly to the size undetectable by the human eye. Today was one of those days.
Off grid
I read recently one of those glorious, life affirming pieces of advice that someone had copied off someone, who had copied it off someone else on the internet – ‘Your kids will remember the days they went to the beach more than the days they watched TV’. It’s good advice and Mumsnet has I’m sure devoted a large, climate controlled server in Arizona to discuss it, but I grew up on the beach and I can still remember some classic Wombles episodes. In the interests of fair journalism though, I wished to test the hypothesis and made what Steven Segal (star of the excellent and aptly named homage to the hostage genre ‘Executive decision’) would call, an ‘Executive Decision’. I would go to the beach, surf as much as possible and with child like curiosity, test what I could remember of the surf next day at work versus one hour of watching the Apprentice at 9PM after a curry. To keep control over the experiment it was vital I remain free from any other media influence during the day. For clarity in procedure, the media influence in question was my boss. He works in media and held the greatest threat to the integrity of the experiment and surfing for the day by potentially asking me to do some work, so I turned him off. No phone, no laptop, no boss – no worries! I double checked that ‘The Apprentice’ was on Sky plus and left the building for a day of guilt free paddling in the name of stand up science and non-award winning journalism.
Hacked off
I was ten minutes from the beach when I had to pull the van over abruptly after an urgent desire for a cup of tea. I’m from Northern Ireland, it’s a natural urge that surfaces when we are separated from a kettle for more than 60 minutes. Today was meant to be offline and media free, but I had a problem. I wasn’t sure what the intentions of the Tardis-like machine with paper cups underneath it were, as it was sucking up all available power sources and presumably wifi in the small petrol station. The sharply suited Costa salesman beside me assured me it wasn’t in a mid Atlantic accent normally reserved for cyborgs or self-help gurus, neither of whom I trust. I remained unconvinced. ‘Have you ever used a touchscreen machine before sir?’ said the cyborg/salesman, proudly happy in a first time parent sort of way of his large flashing drinks dispenser. ‘I just wanna a brew’ I said, wondering what touchscreens have to do with a tea bag. ‘The machine doesn’t serve tea sir’. ‘Says it all’ said I. Humans 1, machine/deathstar 0.
Going off
The beach was calling and I was ready to complete the experiment. My friends had all skived off work for the day too; when I say skived, I mean in truth what we do is work as hard as we can so we can juggle work, home and all the other stuff that isn’t paddle or surf related to score days like these. In unison, we set off to feast on that richest of meals; freshly groomed swell served on sucking sandbanks, with a plan to end the day only when our arms and legs could no longer face another paddle or ride. ‘Every time we surf, we are baptised’, observed my friend Kieron, sagely. Walking back to the van at sunset, I didn’t look freshly anointed. My motor and cognitive powers had slumped to zombie-like levels. Will I remember the episode of The Apprentice? Of course not; after a day at the beach I’m asleep well before its 9pm start using my plate of curry as a pillow. Can I remember my day at the beach? Yeah, in every detail; Bill got his first waves on his new SUP – no forgetting that smile, Kieron selflessly made sure everyone got topped up with ‘tay’ pre and after session from his gas burner (no touchscreen required) and Al gave up his session to snap some shots of us playing in the beautiful North Atlantic brine. With friends and moments like those, Lord Sugar was easily fired. You can’t turn good memories off, that’s why you remember them. There isn’t a switch or pause button in life, that’s why your ‘off’ days are when you are truly on. SUP