16December1995

London: 16th December 1995
My dear folks,

At 4.15 I was going to say good afternoon. But if you peered out of the window you would think it good night. Mid-winter looms. Today is the third & last of my days off. They have been delightful. I come to understand what Jones means by just living. It's taken me all three days to catch up on my life. For months I've been filing things that did not require urgent attention until my study became a fire hazard. A break there as the TV sports announcer introduces Russel Patrick from the University of Calgary who's just about to swim in some championship event.

I've spent the last two hours rereading many of your letters & faxes, Kevin's preparations for the Internet, Ann's hospital programme, Jonathan's move to Cape Town, Cathy's German lessons. A few I've filed; the rest are being recycled. Some muscular damsels are paddle-steaming down the pool in the backstroke right now. Wouldn't want to run foul of one of those on a dark night. I'm afraid Russel didn't shape in a couple of minutes ago. A little earlier, I watched the England rugby team playing the Western Samoans. The visitors were really plucky but lacked the necessary weight & got overrun towards the end. The South African ref did a great job.

Okay, no more TV. Except to tell you that Jones didn't have a TV guide & asked me to get today's schedule off the Internet. She was quite impressed at the results. And she's not easy to impress. I spent a couple of hours earlier working out how to print out labels from a data base. It's quite tricky when you want to select only certain records & certain (information) fields from each record. I eventually got it right, to my great satisfaction. But I upset the computer badly in the process - I'm not sure how - and had to reinstall my Windows 95 programme. Had my heart in my mouth for a while; I thought the thing was going to die on me. My telephone helpline support has just expired, too, and I haven't yet signed up for an extended contract.

So, what's to tell you? My bout of mini-flu continues. Mildly sore throat on Thursday; mild sneezing on Friday; mild chesty cough on Saturday. I normally suffer at least a week of each & I mean suffer. So I'm grateful for the gentle dose. I'm just a bit pissed off that it coincided with my days off I don't think that I'm going to be able to take a sickie tomorow in good conscience. I think my wine and whisky treatment is doing the trick. Jones has also remained a bit low. She's not sure why. She thinks it may be hormones. Jones blames hormones for upsets in the same way that Haitans blame juju. She's just returned from a walk to the Church St market where, she says, the stall holders reduce fruit & vege prices after lunch in a bid to clear stocks. She's a thrifty wife, Jones is. I hardly dare tell her what I spend on computer accessories. Since she likes to read my letters, I'll change the subject.

Christmas rushes at us. This time next week, God willing, we'll be with Cathy & Bren in Germany. I've been able to avoid the worst of the supermarket carols & splurge advertising that I so loathe. What a pity that Christmas has become so important a part of the Western economic cycle & that it's mainly about presents & indulgence. We heard some French confectioners complaining that the strikes over there had all but ruined them - December is their big month. I do miss the religious rejoicing I once associated with the Season. My time as a monk seems so long ago, as though it belongs to a previous incarnation. One can't recreate the past. But I've put on the Gregorian chant CD by the Spanish Benedictines. It still seeps into my soul after a time.

As part of our own Christmas preparations, Jones & I have been crawling around the eaves - officially the nook & the cranny. From the drawers in the former & the suitcases in the latter we extracted the skiing gear & winter snugglies that have long lain there. They're to go over to Germany with us, some for our benefit, most for that of Bren & co who will find mid-winter riding somewhat chillier in the northern hemisphere than the southern. Jones had asked me about a missing pair of trousers. I said they might well be in a whole suitcase of her clothing in the cranny - one which, to my amusement, she did not recall. They were too. If either of us ever buys more clothing, it cannot be out of need. Let me add in our mutual defence that much of it is inherited & aging well, like its wearers.

My thoughts have been much with you all, especially with you Mum as you continue your campaign to regain your health. And with the Calgarians as they assist you. I do hope & pray that you may gradually regain your health & strength. I was listening to the estimates today for the number of people with HIV & AIDS & those who succumbed this year, mainly in Africa with little or no assistance or relief. It reminded me, if I needed reminding, of how hard life is for most. And even for those with education & resources, it can be mollified only a little. I think that when I come to die - no rush, thank you - I would like to look back & think that I have loved a little & written something to someone which will live on a while after me. The rest is not important. Even the writing something isn't particularly important. But one does desire to have created something a little bit special.

Supper is nearly ready. So let me get this off. It comes with special Christmas wishes.