The Overside of an Unbalanced Life
Life in Central London may be very cool but it is not poetic. Fireworks on the Thames last last night were very nice - and it was even nicer walking home without even thinking of the tube. The tube is not romantic - don't let anyone tell you otherwise. It is a very big engineering exercise that costs millions of pounds and gives some of the very bright people who have to work in it some very difficult problems to solve. An engineering team can replace 3metres of track in an entire night if they are fortunate. That it keeps running is a miracle definitely but it is not romantic.
The Underside of an Unbalanced Life
I live and work in Adelaide, South Australia. As the sun shines my life is
- Footy: I have umpired my last game in South Australia and I have been invited to the big party (normally only the very best umpires are invited). After 12 years it is time to depart.
- Church: assisting the sacristan at the local Cathedral can occupy the entire Christmas holiday shutdown period. Well, it seems this is over too - last week next week.
- Wine: normally find a few hours on a Sunday afternoon for a winery or two. Given the shortage of other activities, I will have to put some more effort into this one.
- Film Projection: volunteering at one of the city's art cinemas for the Cinemateque programme fills those evenings I am not running around training. Alas this activity has kicked the bucket as well.
- Work: fills in those few hours when I am not doing anything else. Hmmm, finish this on Thursday - anyone spot a pattern here?
I spend as much time as I can travelling around the Adelaide area as I can, stopping for coffee, wine or beer whenever the opportunity appears.
So, with so little to do, it looks as if I will have to emigrate. I arrive in London on the 9th of March.
The Keeper of Mislaid Secrets
The Phoenician Trader sails on the sea of night in a ship made from wrought gossamer and sails of woven wishes. When the world quietens, my ship slips amongst those who lie in repose, stopping along side their beds, tied up against the mattress. There I walk among the dreams of the asleep: buying thoughts and selling ideas. The unbrearable thought that drags in one dreamer's mind seeds the fantasy of an unlived life in another's.
The dawn approaches, the ship draws away, its hold filled with the cares of mind and the burdens that had pressed the dreamer's head down to the pillow so hard during the night. The sails fill, the Phoenician Trader stands at the tiller, the ship riding the crest of the sun rise, the leading edge between light and darkness, skimming the the surface of the world back to my small house. There I unload the secrets of the newly unburdened: a rich treasure ready to trade when the sea of night stretches out again and where lonely souls trade the pressures of the day for dreams.
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