The Week Before The Isolation

That week seems long ago.
Back then we could still go out.
Not go out to rub shoulders or any such thing. When it comes to physical contact, I’m all for social isolation.
Don’t try to hug this lad – he might bite!

That week before the Great Isolation, I wandered the streets of Adelaide while my Joy, and Amelia, and my infant grandson Little Bear shopped.
I wandered to Eckersley’s Art Supplies and bought a big wad of watercolour paper
– accidentally fortuitous because, even though I had no idea the virus would lock us in our homes just a week later, that wad of paper has served me well during the lockdown.
Who knows when I’ll be able return for more?

In King William Street, just outside the art shop, I was approached by two pretty young women.
That sort of thing doesn’t happen to me very often these days. It is no longer the 1970s, and I’m starting to look a bit grey and worn around the edges (just a little bit grey and worn).

Yes, they were pretty young women, apparently so friendly, and ever so chatty.
They tried so hard to talk to me about the book of Mormon.
Perhaps I look like someone who would be impressed by such an opportunity to partake in random theological chat and fancies.
A younger more impressionable bloke might have been pleased to be followed around in the street by two such gals, but alas, their love and admiration proved fickle.

Now, I didn’t tell them that, as well as being a past student of the sciences and some of the arts, I was the posessor of degree in theology (a real one).
I’d prefer them to simply see me as a retired, still handsome, old gentleman.

I don’t like to use my official title – but sometimes it can prove useful.
People often like to use so-called “ice-breakers” to facilitate communication.
Well, fortunately in this situation, my official title proved a real “ice-maker”.

When the head-girl flashed her million dollars worth of dental work in my face saying
“If we are going to talk, we really need your name – what can we call you?”
I replied, “Oh, ‘Reverend’ will do”.

Strangely this pair of religious enthusiasts lost enthusiasm. .They suddenly lost interest in me and wandered off in search of easier prey.
I wandered off happily with my watercolour paper, and sought out my family.
We shared tea and biscuits, and motored homeward carefree and content.

Then came the virus lockdown.

UNWASHED

Diary Memory – March 2015

The old man wakes way before dawn.
He reads for a while.
He researches Tang Band full range speaker drivers, but only briefly.
The galahs awake in the trees outside.
The skies pinken.
He watches a bit of the news on ABC 24 using his iPad.
He allows his daughter to have first access to the shower so she can spend all the time she needs to get ready to set off for a day at university.
While she’s showering he tidies the kitchen a bit whilst looking forward to the warm trickling waters from the shower-head.
She finishes in the shower.
The sleeping wife springs from the mattress and enters the shower while his back is briefly turned.
Oh the cruel irony of it all.
Another week starts.
Unwashed.

IMAGE OF A SAINT APPEARS ON TOAST.

Some, possibly inappropriate, satire I penned in 2015 in response to a newspaper article where a similar claim was reported.

“It’s a miracle!” declares local pastor.
Earlier this morning, in the lonely parish manse of St John’s Lutheran Church in Tanunda, fragments of liverwurst rearranged themselves to form the distinct image of a saintly figure.
“It’s an icon in pig off-cuts” said Pastor Fox. “I knew there was something metaphysical going on – the atmosphere was … well, you know ‘cool’ and ‘spiritual’. The dulcet tones of Fran Kelly coming from the tranny, combined with the rays of divine sunlight reflected from the roof of my daughter’s Nissan Pulsar outside the kitchen window told me that Tuesday morning was very special.” “This is a genuine miracle” he went on “that more than rivals others seen in this state. The church car park is available to pilgrims and tourists”.

😉

Almost 5

It’s almost 5am.
My cup of tea is cooling to a tolerable temperature.

I know that as we age we need less sleep, but 11pm until 12:14 … that’s just silly!

Still, I got some thinking done –
about art,
about subjective and objective perception of time,
about the Church and its failures,
about love
… once I’d have thought about sex, but I don’t care enough anymore to do so.

I’m going to be really tired by lunch time….