Wednesday, March 23, 2016


“THERE are two kinds of immortality; that which the soul really enjoys after this life, and that imaginary existence by which men live in their fame and reputation. The best and greatest actions have proceeded from the prospect of the one or other of these.”

Excerpt From: Joseph Addison. “The Tatler: By the Right Honourable Joseph Addison, Esq.

Overnight I had begun to plan my day.  I had first to confirm that Sea Pines Resort had delivered a replacement bicycle following the unexpected explosion of my rear tire yesterday, though conveniently immediately upon my return to the parking lot of the condominium.  The shattering sound had startled Simon the gardener and he approached me mirthfully and with due enquiry.

More important was my recovery from yesterday afternoon's equally unforeseen and paramountly disturbing lapse into the vernacular.  How readily those vulgar words had sprung to my lips, cutting the feet from under my perceived opponent, my erstwhile colleague, companion and most favoured person in the world! Talk about hitting a nerve!  We did of course bandage the wounds but healing requires time like the ponderous flow of sap. Old age flatters itself to imagine that nothing really matters, the corollary of which is that everything can be redressed by a negligence that remarkably passes for wisdom.

We were obliged to abandon the condominium between 1:00 - 2:00 p.m. to permit a realtor to "show" the unit to a prospective purchaser.  Last year when we agreed to rent the apartment we consented to permit showings.  This was the second time we had been called upon for this purpose.  Our instinct required us to "stage" the unit by putting out of sight as much of our personal effects as possible, admittedly a small annoyance but one for which we had already established a routine.

It was another sunny day.  We were on our bikes by 12:30 p.m. and soon sailing northward on the wide and dry beach from Tower Beach. We performed our customary habit of relaxing at Coligny Park and checking our email but, instead of returning home immediately, we detoured to our estate agent's office to collect our mail. There we went in separate directions for the trip homeward; I toward the beach (for the sunshine); His Lordship along the shaded corridor of Greenwood Avenue.

On my way back I filtered to Sea Pines Resort to have adjustments made to my new bicycle.  The seat angle required correction.  The result was a distinct improvement, a small reminder that nettlesome factors can be subdued. When I arrived home, I went directly to the pool which to my surprise was entirely unoccupied. I secured my favourite chair (centrally located, facing southwest, small table adjacent). The temperature was about 73℉ but what was more apparent than the heat was the strength of the sun, a penetrating, dry and oven-like sensation.  It wasn't long before my tranquillity was interrupted. The advent of the Easter Weekend had precipitated the arrival of grandchildren from the northern climes.  I convinced myself that the squeals of the small girls in the pool was somehow tolerable. What I find more offensive is the adults who persist in making telephone calls on their mobile phones, broadcasting a one-sided conversation (to which I naturally strain to listen).

The final act of contrition today was a dutiful report to Fresh Market where I spotted what proved to be excellent choices - cooked jumbo shrimp (which I later served with nothing more than a dollop of "Frank's Original Hot Sauce"), dry rub baby back ribs, oak roasted salmon, Ciabatta bread and Key Lime pie. This meal afforded a soothing transition to the re-runs of Frasier on Netflix.

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