Sedentary solitude

Pack Ice Cuckolds Cove April 1, 2009

Twinned curses of the writing life are the sedentary and the solitary nature of the work.  You can wither (or balloon) sitting at a computer all day, every day and you can go perfectly mad doing it alone … for years.  (People who haven’t done so for protracted periods may have difficulty appreciating  what a trial solitary labour can become.  I love working on a team. The Great Eastern could be grueling but because of the cadre it was my most pleasurable professional experience.)

I get out and walk my dog for an hour of so every morning regardless of the conditions.  Most of my thinking gets done then, it’s the air and the rhythm of walking that is the rhythm of speech that is the rhythm of writing.   I am blessed to live in a place that offers so many footpaths, especially along the coastal boundary.  The furthest point of land visible in the photo above is Cape Spear, the most easterly in North America. The exterior locations for the restaurant, “The Auk”, in the film version of Rare Birds were shot there. Prevailing north easterly winds of the last few days have pushed the pack ice into the land. Note the two ships on the horizon.  Awaiting the harbour pilot?

Also as antidote to the chair and the monitor I have lately returned to squash.  I played and lost with some regularity when I was a student at MUN but had only a scattered few games after that.  Myself and my friend Randy (he’s on the right, I am on the left) have been trying to play at least two or three times a week.   It’s terrific fun and gets one well out of one’s head for an hour of so.  Neither of us is nearly as fast as we used to be so we are fairly evenly matched.

I took a ball in the nose yesterday and figured I’d end up with two shiners, but nothing came of it.  Randy hit me, very hard, with a double yellow in the back of my upper arm five days ago and I still have a welt.