My Kindle tells me I have read for 83 weeks without missing a week, but I did miss a couple of days when I was in hospital last month. Now it seems I still have four chapters of Russell's THE SPARROW to read, which is annoying because I had planned on finishing the novel by the start of March. I am almost tempted to take Wednesday off and just stay home till I finish the damned book.
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Tuesday I was tired and did little. At least I was able to go out to the quiz night this week after taking last week off due to ill health. We didn't do so badly, finishing in second place. Probably my favourite moment was the Acronym round where I was asked to say where the word Taser came from; you should have seen my team mates when I confidently wrote down "Tom Swift's Electric Rifle" !
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Well, I carried out my idea of staying home on Wednesday and finishing the novel THE SPARROW. After the last chapter I put the book down and stared into space for a while. It's certainly an intriguing book, with echoes of Jack Vance, Philip Jose Farmer and Harlan Ellison (three of my favorite authors). Because of the way the story jumps around in time, place and character, you aren't absolutely sure where the plot is going -- as you get closer to the end, you have the feeling that something bad is going to happen soon. But unless you're psychic, you have no idea just how bad. I don't think I've had this sort of reaction to a book for decades. If this was a TV show, it would be freely decorated with warnings about "mature themes". I didn't start reading anything else for two or three days - it took me that long before I could face a new story.
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Thursday attended the FOM annual general meeting. Travelled in by car instead of bus for once, so I wasn't quite as tired as I sometimes am afterwards. But still felt happy to get to bed on time and clock up a full eight hours sleep. Don't often remember my dreams this year, but I do recall that night's.....
I was back home at our old place in Liverpool Street with the family. I was getting ready to go out, and my sister happened to ask me whether there was anything worthwhile on TV tonight. The morning paper was in front of me so I picked it up and started glancing through it to find out. Then I stopped and groaned. My sister asked me what was the matter. I stared down at the newspaper. "There's a full page of comic strips," I said glumly. "They haven't had comics in Australian paper for years. So if ever I see them, I know that I am still asleep and this is all a dream." She looked at me, plainly baffled. When I looked through the rest of the paper, I found a big lift-out full of comic strips I'd never heard of. A disconcerting experience, knowing that you are dreaming and not being able to do anything about it.
Plainly my subconscious has not forgotten the sixty odd years I spent reading the comic strips in the local paper. Apparently it knows that I miss them, and tries to make up for it by providing them in my dreams. I'll bet Freud or Jung never had a patient with these sorts of dreams !
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Tuesday quiz night we came second yet again. I thought 81 points was a good score but the folk at the next table got 85. However in the movie round I was the only person who recognized the film clip from THE WILD BUNCH 😳
Wednesday I was leaving a meeting in Sandy Bay to drive home and not only did it start to rain but we saw a lot of silent flashes in the sky ("dry lightning"). Between that and a couple of crashes on the highway, it seemed a long time before I got home. Heated up something for dinner and ate while listening to a Maigret audiobook.
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A Warning ! Went out to do the weekend shopping on Friday. When I started on the trip home, I noticed an unfamiliar warning light on the dashboard - it looked like nothing so much as one of those signs by the roadside that warn you of dangerous driving conditions in case of ice or snow. [see above] I drove home carefully while the light stayed on, even though ice or snow would be unprecedented at the end of summer in Tasmania.
It took me about fifteen minutes paging through the car manual before I found the right section. It turns out the DSC may be turned off - that's the Dynamic Stability Control.
I couldn't help it, I had to laugh. Anybody who has watched me walk more than a few steps knows that it's not the car that needs Dynamic Stability Control, it's the owner !
[The light must have healed itself; it did not come on next day.]
