Precision, precision, precision

Lorient is a seaport and fishing harbour in the Morbihan region of Brittany in Northwestern France, part of the enclosed sea that is the principal feature of the coastline. It is noted for its Carnac stones which predate and are more extensive than the ancient Stonehenge monument in Wiltshire, England. Lorient is also home to the family owned business called "Plastimo" created in 1963 by Antoine Zuliani with 35 employees.  Today the brand claims its industrial DNA as "safety and compasses for enjoyable boating". In 2013 the company celebrated its 50th anniversary and the 3 million compass milestone. Today I bought the Iris 50 hand-bearing compass made by Plastimo, appropriately balanced for "Zone A-B: Northern Hemisphere, South Atlantic, Indian Ocean, Central Pacific, Tahiti and Reunion Island". Plastimo's compass products have been described as "jewels of precision and accuracy".

Christmas Letter December 2018

My late father was not what I would call particularly sentimental, at least not overtly.  In fact he tended to be otherwise - more tranquil and unemotional, no doubt a reflection of his regimental military background (and the fact that to my knowledge he never drank a drop of alcohol - unless one counts my mother's "Dizzy Fruit" as he called it, a concoction of pears, peaches and other fruits drenched in sugar and a liberal portion of cognac or some similar preservative).  He did however succumb to the magic of Christmas in his own special way. Though I can't recall him ever having bought a Christmas present for anyone in the family he nonetheless displayed his magnanimity by rolling up dollar bills of varying denominations in Christmas wrapping, tied up with a small coloured bow then randomly hung upon the Christmas tree. The custom was the cause of occasional concern as he or others attempted to recapitulate the total number of "gifts" to ensure that none was lost in the accumulating paper debris arising from the other gifts opened throughout the course of the Christmas morning ceremony.

Why bother?

There are some for whom evangelism of any measure or purpose is an utter affliction, this in spite of the strength or universality of the intended communication. The bible - notwithstanding its poetic use of metaphor - seldom fails to makes its point. This does not however imply that the cloak of design is entirely without uncertainty.  Take for example the expression from Matthew 7:6.

Give not that which is holy unto the dogs,

neither cast ye your pearls before swine,

lest they trample them under their feet,

and turn again and rend you.

Key West Express

On Monday morning at 7:00 am on December 10th, 2018 we boarded the Key West Express (a sea-going catamaran) in the harbour of Fort Myers Beach and headed for Key West, Florida. It is marketed as a 3½ hour journey across the Gulf of Mexico. We were in for a nautical awakening. There is very little of man's creation which competes with the vastness and power of the sea.  Our education was about to begin.

Idle Reflection

I am a shameful creature of habit (a classic bore I am sure made all the more offensive by my wackadoo commitment to its endless reiteration).  Mid-afternoon each day - following my morning routine of restorative ablutions, a predominantly protein breakfast (ham, eggs and American cheese), strong black coffee and bicycling - I collapse on a chaise longue by the pool and allow my mind to reflect idly upon what I've contemplated throughout the prior three hours, always stimulated by the burnishing rays, dry heat and changing sounds of the Gulf of Mexico. It is a summary exercise which frankly seldom succeeds to do anything more than repeat tiresomely what I have thought time and again. I nonetheless persist in what I choose to fashion an investigative analysis with possible improving consequences (also highly unlikely).

Preparing to leave

After getting my hair cut by (big) Michael at The David Gregory Salon sharply at nine o'clock this morning I hurried home to change into my togs for bicycling. By local accounts it was a frosty day - only about 55℉ - so I put on my fleece shell and black woollen socks - only to remove them both an hour later when I reached Bradenton Beach at the southern end of Anna Maria Island.  By then the sun was uncomfortably warm on my back. The sky was crystal blue.

Visit to the Dentist

Relocating residence for six months entails somewhat more than transporting the common baggage. While you certainly needn't bring every wristwatch or other article of jewellery with you (though I confess to having brought studs and links) nor obviously any of one's favourite rugs, lamps, crystal or furnishings, there are nonetheless other matters to be taken care of - things like hair cuts, manicures and pedicures, oil changes for the car, bike rentals, clothing and shoe stores and dental hygiene.  Hopefully one needn't become too familiar with the Emergency department of the local hospital. Nor have to acquaint oneself with the preferred ambulance, trauma or collision centre. The point is that many of life's prosaic needs continue to persist wherever you are. Today for example we visited a dentist because (speaking for myself anyway) my addiction to strong, black coffee is as usual discolouring my teeth from an acceptable ivory to that approaching mahogany.

Murky Day

We're caught in a fog. Behind the soupy map the yellow orb blazes. I count the hours awaiting the evidence of change, the details of compliance.  I have no patience. But I have done all that is possible to complete the transactions (perhaps even more than I should have done). For now my preoccupation is in abeyance. I won't pretend to disregard what is anticipated! But for the moment at least I shall put down the trowel.

Nec Plus Ultra

Some things bear repeating. A morning coffee for example. And in my particular case, a bicycle ride. There is only so much novelty in any existence - barring perhaps the Crusades or some such extraordinary undertaking. It is quite proper - and indeed desirable - in my opinion to dwell upon the minutiae of everyday life, a posture which pointedly can only be achieved by the imposition of focus and habit. Appreciating the layers of experience demands the serenity of knowledge which accumulates with assiduity. It is wearing to become anxious about recurrence but this misses the delicacy of detail. Granted it helps being bound by a circle of perfection.

Saturday, December 1st

It is Saturday, the 1st day of December.  Though the temperature is 76℉ and there is a wind of 20 mph out of the south, I have turned off the air conditioner and opened the apartment balcony door and my bedroom window to delight in the refreshing late afternoon breeze. Autumn has incontestably ended. A sudden serenity marks the hibernation of the next six weeks before the season begins. Even the falling leaves on the bike path this morning were forlorn and withered. The dulled walkway wound lonesomely, its visage alternately changing beneath the grey sky or the dappled sunshine. The day is a sandwich of events blending into one sensible impression highlighted today by the rollicking mixture of sun and clouds, high wind and thrashing waves on the beach, and the violent tumult of the beating heads of palm trees. The dry relieving air hints of a turbulence on the horizon. It is only 5 o'clock but already the shadows upon the tiled rooftops are long. A narrow shard of light crosses the crowns of the giant ferns in the distance. Winter is coming.