It's Saturday afternoon in the Land Down Under, or in Aussie parlance, it's Satdee arvo....It's 25 degree, not a cloud in the sky, hardly a breath of wind. A perfect afternoon to take the bike out for a spin but.... the missus is in bed feeling a bit crook with some nasty URTI and I've decided to stay home in case she needs something, like a cup of tea or an asprin or something.
What a kind, considerate husband you are wobbly.......Sorry, I have to confess. It's all about scoring "brownie" points. If I can build up enough of them, it'll make it easier when I drop it on her that I am ordering a new set of Staintunes for the Bonnie. So, I am hedonist. Aren't we all.
So, I'm sitting in my cane armchair on the back deck of my home on the hill, overlooking the town of Newcastle-on-Hunter, processing lots of random thoughts.
Shirtless and soaking up the last rays of an Autumn sun, I'm listening to all the sounds of a Australian Satdee arvo. The referee's whistle and the cheering at a football match in a nearby park. The bugle calling the horses to the starting barrier at the Broadmeadow Racecourse about 3 kms away. The amplified voice of the race caller echos across the valley. And in the lull between races, I can hear the far off sound of a jet overhead.
Immediately, the sound of the jet transports me to the winding roads of the Vermont hills and Monterey/Big Sur's Hwy 1, the sirens and horns of New York City and San Francisco and I'm struck by just how different the world is but, at the same time, how small it is. In a matter of days, we can transport ourselves anywhere in this Global Community. We travel, we return home and are left with just the memories. Mine are stored away in my own personal hard drive in my head along with all the other RT's.
Another one of those RT's.....why do newsreaders always start the news with "Good Evening" and then proceed to tell you why it isn't.
