Going Slow

Have waited most of the day with this window open and the text box blank, as the fog and misty rain falls outside.  What to write on another wasted day.  An hour or two of nothing much.  Another cold sore annoyance, although the timing a week before a boat trip and some flights may prove a blessing.

Flipping through the archives, the themes of boredom and ennui ever recurring at this time of year.  Last Friday saw a last minute reconnaissance mission to Brier for the whales, who toyed with you in breaching along the shore, and the closed-all-year Spouter Inn evoking memories of old.  The idea of working as a slave to the tourist in search of wifi and quick service seemed unappealing, even amidst the outrageous weather at whale of a time.  A recovery after a brilliant day out on the SC with Mr. and Mrs. Bear.  A sound sleep in the tent, and the drive back past the school cafe (including theft of the slow manifesto) leaving the mind with time to ponder.

It was the question on the Europa - MFA or Ahab or both?  The whale memorabilia continuing to haunt, as designed, but there is a new sense that you need not rush a commercial enterprise before the next bit of proper gallivanting.  I have learned from that sail the need not to feel as entrapped.  But the desire for extended voyages remains.  The MFA may offer the best cover under which to do it.

Or so goes the sentiment today, as S brings up fond memories of Ventura WWF banter and you consider the ridiculousness of John Cleese selling tickets for a screening of Monty Python with him in Halifax next May.  Heh.  Instead of Ondajjie's reading, I am off to the public library to catch some of the MFA instructors and get another sense of that crowd.  Will you be in that class a year from now?  Surely the odds at the moment are better than even money in favour...