After thousands of miles and loads of weeks occupying a square surface area about that of a billiard table we are still the star-crossed lovers who met in Russia all those moons ago.
We have been heading back from our trip south through the Balkans by way of Italy and France and will quite soon be hitting Blighty’s shores via the port of Calais.
For some reason, my accent has reverted to the Bucks/London of my youth and Anne is finding it increasingly difficult to understand my utterences. That will surely be cured when the clipped vowel sounds of the Home Counties once again fill my ears as a result of turning on the radio and TV.
Actually, that ain’t gonna happen since I was fed up with all the rubbish being fed me before our departure and had already stopped tuning in. Consequently, there is no intention of starting to listen again on our return.
There is a general campaign against exposing oneself to the lies and propaganda of the UK media and I urge everyone to find alternative ways of obtaining both information and entertainment (if you can see any difference between the two). (Just prior to leaving UK shores a colleague was incredulous that I didn’t listen to the BBC and therefore obtained my news…I didn’t have the heart to tell them there’s a revolution going on.)
That is true of mainstream literature also. Whatever pap is being bottle-fed you right now be sure that it has been processed through a series of agents, publishers and booksellers before reaching your eyes and mind to make sure that all the goodness and vitality has been squeezed out of it.
Your only hope is to locate non-adulterated supplies over the internet or by other means.
As for music…
If a film makes it to the cinema it ought to be marked with a ‘Moronic Content’ sticker (I’m not joking…more anon)
As a matter of fact, our living space over the past three months has extended to about as far as the eye can see and the body is prepared to travel. From lake to mountain to sky, sea to shore, meadow to forest and hill to river. We have lived the whole summer outdoors, and feel all the better for it.
The difficulty will be trying to adjust to enclosed spaces. Really.
That said, we can’t wait to see family and friends and at the moment do not know how long we will be staying in their vicinity. Certainly, our return to Blighty is not the end of the trip – but merely a pause.
Written in Sedan, Ardennes, France, on the road to Calais