Banks Again

Iain Banks has released a new novel. I am getting to be an experienced reader now and this can also mean jaded however Banks continues to capture my desire for something out of the ordinary. Feersum Endjin has to be my favourite and I miss not having new Culture stories. However, The Algebraist is good enough for me. I actually had nothing to read on the bus this morning and had to look out the window. I saw something strange ... why should two people (young man and woman), who should have been lovers, be standing at a traffic light shaking hands for what seemed forever? Why? Give me something to get a grip on this please.

The Kiss

I saw her again today. The woman on the bus who has lips I want to kiss. The kiss is not fraught with need or a cellular level instinct like sex or eating or fear. No the kiss is about pleasure, fun, intimacy, getting to know someone, love. Well, the type of kiss that I am talking about anyway. Not the farewell or greeting peck on the cheek. No I am talking about the full on pash.

Coogee Oval

We have bought a place at last. We have paid, in my estimation, the arms and legs of an elephant. Houses prices are still ridiculous. Our brief sojourn living with the mother-in-law (may she live forever in peace and tranquility) will come to an end in about four weeks. Some of you may know that the apartment overlooks Coogee oval. It is this aspect I will miss the most. Its the cultural centre of Coogee. Everything happens there. We have seen the Australian Rugby Union team training there. My son was in raptures to see his heroes. I shall miss Saturday afternoons sneaking in to watch the big Rugby games. Early mornings I see a young woman doing innumerable slow laps of the oval; a group of people share her space with their trainer as they lift weights, do push ups and waddle and cheat their way through a few sprints. The afternoons see the mums and dads wandering the turf with their kiddies; the ex-pat Brits playing soccer with piled shirts for goal posts; Aussies playing touch football. The changing season has seen changes in sport. Saturday nights see the young folk smoking and drinking boisterously on the stand; and sadly some them vandalise the place. The early mornings also see the grounds keepers turning up to tend the cricket pitch and the ground. They seem immune to the odd bit of vandalism, and with the infinite patience and skill of the pastoral worker repair and mend their charge. By far the majority of people respect this jewel in the crown of Coogee. It's a wonderful community and I shall miss being at it's heart however I am going to love having a family home again.

Day One

I already have a blog => Bruce Blog, however I needed to set up a blospot account so I could join in on somebody else's blogspot with my real name. I am working from home this morning and looking after my recently sick youngest. Thankfully he is getting better now, and life, including sleep, may start to return to normal. The trouble I have when I start to tell stories about my life is that it's hard to stop. It's not so much about things that have happened to me in the past but about things I observe with my ears and\or eyes.

I am listening to the news on the TV as I write this and apparently Yasser Arrafat has a brother called Farty. Tres unfortunate. I may have misheard but I think not. Perhaps he will raise a stink in the Palestine parliament. Perhaps the Isrealis don't like the smell of his politics. This could just go on an on.