I got up early this morning but there was no worm, only slowly drenching rain. Seeing it and this exotic screensaver made me want to pack up and go somewhere else more exotic, but at my age and in my condition the only travel available is back in time.
And so I reflected on the many other rained-out mornings at Camp 1 on Bougainville Island, when we rushed to the ablution block for the three S's, then gulped down our breakfast in the Mess Hall, before diving headlong into another workday. Working a ten-hour day six days a week saved us from too much navel-gazing, but it was the equally rained-out Sunday mornings that made many of us wonder what kept us there.
Of course, it was the money that kept us there, but also camaraderie, and always a steady supply of South Pacific Lager and Neil Diamond.
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I am... I said To no one there And no one heard at all Not even the chair I am... I cried I am... said I And I am lost and I can't Even say why I am... I said I am... I cried I am... |
Neil Diamond battled with this song for four months following a near-breakdown after a divorce. And the chair in the song is the psychiatrist's chair. We didn't need a psychiatrist. Our situation was a lot simpler: we had a red plastic chair with an esky full of South Pacific Lager close by.
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Did you ever read about a frog Who dreamed of bein' a king And then became one Well except for the names And a few other changes If you talk about me The story's the same one |
