I've just discovered my very own parking spot in the underground carpark in Batemans Bay's shopping centre. I happily sat there while Padma was doing her weekly shopping and, judging by how long it took her, talking to the usual multitude of friends and acquaintances she usually runs into when she comes into town.
Not that I minded the delay as I was totally engrossed in a book I had just found in my favourite bookshop, Vinnies: "Four Thousand Weeks".
By way of an introduction, I give you the first two pages of this thought-provoking and almost life-changing book which are its "Introduction":
It is most likely that I will die next to a pile of books I was meaning to read, but this book won't be one of them as I almost finished all of its 260-odd pages in one (car-)sitting while waiting for Padma. With a bit of mental arithmetic, I figured that this is the end of my 4,142nd week since I was born in 1945 (the other big event of that year was the end of the Second World War) and that I should be grateful to be well ahead.
I wish you a happy end to yet another of your allotted 4,000 weeks!
