Diary of a Separation (and why we write)

Friday 25th May 2018

I’m on my way to the ICA to watch Zama when I notice that I am in a long row of cars. They are all different (makes, sizes) except for one common feature: they all sport various shades of grey. From silver-hued to sky-lead-grey, most vehicles either behind me or in front carry the same pale-, or in some cases, dark-looking tint. Whatever happened to the predominant red I remember seeing on the streets of London when I relocated to this country more than twenty years ago? I recall asking S at the time if red was British people’s favourite colour when choosing a car. We, too, had a scarlet-hued five-door in those days. A little old banger it was, but it did the job just fine. It is a wild guess and I have no evidence for it but I thought at the time that the choice of colour had a lot to do with New Labour’s optimism-driven, political agenda. A subliminal message mutually and unconsciously agreed upon by both motorists and Blair’s cunning spin doctors. Amongst other things red symbolises passion and adventure. The latter took us to Iraq. The less said about that subject, the better, though.

Grey, on the other hand comes across as conservative. Which, according to my totally unscientific theory, is the reason why silver has been motorists’ colour of choice for the last eight years. Its dullness is the perfect…