I’m not sure how to spell skew-wiff, but I believe it’s the right word for the formatting on this site at the moment. (According to a self-proclaimed pedant, ‘Skew is from the Old Northern French word eskuer (which is related to eschew). Skew-whiff was also first used in the 18th century, the whiff coming from a 16th century word meaning a puff or gust of wind, as though a gust has blown something askew. No one knows the ultimate origin of whiff.’ Though I would have thought skew was from askew which sounds Norse.) But there’s time neither to fix it nor to debate etymology now, for reasons given in the previous post, which I can’t help noticing has failed so far to provoke the envisaged storm of travel controversy. So please bear with me, or if you’re feeling generous, take a look at the code and tell me what’s wrong. (The right-hand column should be up top and not centred.) But now… Home, James, and don’t spare the horses. The mascot is no relation.
Archive for October, 2004
I’m in an unusual situation. I was going to take a short holiday in Malaysia, but sadly now I’m flying home for a funeral. There’s still time for a short trip somewhere with my girlfriend, though, because London holds more appeal for me than for her at the moment, and we have some catching up to do. Where shall we go?
They weren’t sure whether they wanted to be in the picture until the first person climbed onto the logs.
‘It is not because things are difficult that we do not dare; it is because we do not dare that they are difficult.’
Seneca, Epistulae Morales
In the last couple of days, I have broken off conversations to gawp at three very different creatures. First, a beautiful rat snake, over two metres long, with skin like unpolished gold, moving quite fast along the top of the wall just two strides from us. We didn’t alert anyone because a) it was going away from us, b) there might have been a hullabaloo, a splashing of kerosene and an enthusiastic bludgeoning of the snake, which would have been a shame given that c) rat snakes aren’t poisonous and d) I assume they eat rats.
Then, last night, one of Jaffna’s big fruit bats chose the papaya tree beside my balcony to dangle off, torn between dozing (I bet they have odd dreams, being upside-down) and doing sit-ups to guzzle some fruit. It looked like a fox cub dressed up for Halloween.
And today I noticed that part of the tree outside a first-floor window was really a chameleon. But on reflection, I reluctantly suppose it might have been a less rare lizard.
There’s a fair bit of reconstruction and construction work going on around here. It’s often worth seizing opportunities to visit new buildings before they’re finished and filled with clutter. (Mind the stairwells, though.)
I’m told this one will become a bank. The concrete-mixer was made in Britain in 1934. There’s a great view from the roof.
Lest we forget, a monument is unveiled to commemorate the day when a ref decided for England in a big football match. All hail ‘Russian’ linesman, Tofik Bakhramov (anagram: ‘Risen arm. Thanks. I love this man of Baku.’) What would the beautiful game be without controversy?
No picture today, as the connection has been feeble and I confess I’ve failed the test of patience. Oh for broadband. But at least we have a connection – not so long ago most of Sri Lanka was unceremoniously unplugged from the Internet when a ship dragged its anchor somewhere off Colombo.
I was looking at a book on meditation the other day. I’ve dabbled before, but anything that is so widely held to benefit mental and physical health, to offer serenity, inspiration and enlightenment without so much as a gym subscription, must be worth some perseverence. The book began straightforwardly enough: ‘The practice of holding to one subject is the real key to concentration…’ Alright, with you so far. ‘The right choice of subject helps immensely…’ No doubt. Any suggestions?
The more paradoxical messages are saved for the later chapters. As a quick example, on the one hand, the good Swami tells us, ‘There is nothing insignificant anywhere.’ (Agreed, that’s what makes it difficult to focus on one thing at a time, hence the interest in your book.) On the other hand, aspiring polymaths and bloggers take note: ‘The average person craves diverse outside interests. In fact, the less a person is nourished inwardly, the more they want outer contact, companionship and diversion.’
I’ve often passed this ruined workshop without really giving it more than a glance. But when the light is right, it’s beautiful.