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.
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”.
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.