
By and large, people have a real fascination with balls, don’t they? I’m guessing that something about them is deeply satisfying to the human psyche.
The photo above was taken on a family holiday to Watermouth Castle in Devon. Those are my two boys having fun in the rain with a rather intriguing fountain, and learning some practical physics in the process. They were actually rotating that big granite ball between them, something made possible by the fact that it was aquaplaning on a very thin film of water between itself and a depression in the base.  I really wanted to get up there and join in, but I hadn’t yet acquired my ‘fuck it’ philosophy and so I contented myself with watching, and leaning in to place my hand on its deliciously smooth surface to feel it move. It was a very long time ago - my boys are in their twenties now - but I remember it very well. How cold the water was! And how satisfyingly smooth the sphere that spun gently under my palm.
It wouldn’t have been possible with any other shape, would it? I mean, okay, you could do something similar with a cylindrical or egg-shaped stone, but neither would rotate in all directions as a ball does, and that is part of the fascination: the total freedom of movement, made possible by the globe and a few gallons of water.
I found that picture of my kids while sorting through old photos yesterday, and it reminded me of the steel ball fountains they have in Sheffield city centre.

I don’t think they rotate, but they’re fascinating in a different way - see how they reflect the sky, the buildings, and the people walking past? Aren’t they beautiful? Passers-by often stop to stand and stare for a few moments before continuing on their way.
There was even talk of balls in the Johnny Depp forum I was reading yesterday.
And no, for the record, the discussion was absolutely nothing to do with Johnny in any way, shape or form, because believe it or not, we do sometimes talk of other things.  Anyway, this talk was about a very particular type of ball.  We were talking of how we had loved playing marble games as children.

How many of you remember playing with marbles?  For me, one of the strongest memories is the feel of them in my hand, cool, hard, and smooth. Any marble which got chipped was usually thrown away because chipped marbles didn’t feel right, and they didn’t roll right.
Sure, they were remarkably pretty, most of them, but it’s the feel of them that I remember, and the way they moved. If the surface was smooth and flat, they’d roll exactly where you wanted. If not, they’d swerve and jump and wiggle in an endlessly fascinating, though sometimes frustrating, way. That’s balls for ya!
Lastly, a gift which was sent to me this last week in a package containing Halloween gifts. It was from one my Johnny Depp friends. One who has such a fascination with all things Halloween that she can’t bear the thought of me languishing here in England without the proper means to celebrate it, even though she knows full well that I don’t much care for it at all!

It’s a worry ball. Made of soft black rubbery sponge and with the skull and crossbones motif in homage to Pirates of the Caribbean.  I have no idea what to do with it, sadly, because I can’t have it anywhere the dogs might get it. It’s just exactly the right size to get stuck in a greyhound throat and choke them to death.
I think I’ll put it in the guest room with the miniature Jack Sparrows, the string of shrunken pirate heads, the tricorne hat, the Pirates of the Caribbean storage boxes and the Jack Sparrow throw - all gifts from my Depp friends. The dogs don’t do stairs, so it will be safe up there, and I’m sure my guests will enjoy it.
So tell me. Is there anyone out there who doesn’t find balls interesting in some form? From soccer balls, baseballs, and snooker balls to ball bearings and ornamental stone balls on gateposts and balls for dogs and children, mouse balls and track balls and even beads and pearls, they are very much a part of our lives.
Or is it just me?