September is one of our windy months (the others are March, June, July, December, January, October, February, August, April, November, and May) and right on cue the winds have sprung up this morning. I've just been outside to secure everything.
It's Wednesday already and half the week is gone! Whoever coined the phrase 'Time flies' must've been on to something. Yesterday was our aquatic day at the pool where I met this old bloke with a really strong accent who turned out to be a Ten-Pound-Pom who had come out in 1963. "What did you do?" I asked. "Got a job as a lime crusher in a limestone quarry on my second day in the country. Stayed there until I retired in 1996." I took a quick dive so he couldn't see the utter disbelief on my face.
For each the past four nights we've been watching a new episode of Roger Moore's THE SAINT - in black-and-white, of course! - which we found on a 16-episode set of four DVDs. They were all the rage in the 60s when I watched each weekly instalment in the TV Lounge of Barton House in Canberra. Twelve more episodes to go!
A kindly soul who had read my article The Die Was Cast! helped me track down two colleagues from the past whom I contacted by email and phone. Judging by the somewhat frosty response I received, I must've been a lot less popular at the time than I had imagined ☺ Funny how the past always looks so much better in retrospect, including people whom I had hardly known at all!
In between all this to-ing and fro-ing I have just finished reading (again!) Hermann Hesse's Siddhartha, a suitably slim book to mail to Horst Berger in Tonga. Its hundred-odd pages are packed with deep questions about the meaning of life which makes it just the sort of book for Horst to read on his little island which lacks an Information Counter.
| Déjà Moo: The feeling that you've heard this bull before. |
