So just as I raised the subject of Buddhism yesterday, an Australian TV presenter makes a joke about the Dali Lama and gains world fame. I think it’s a great joke and what I love about Ozzies is their lack of reverence. Check out the joke here.
Rain and more bloody rain. I had a good long write this morning and then joined Rosina on a trip to Wessex to see some printers. I ended up having a stroll around Dorchester, conscious that I was actually in Casterbridge, where the mayor sold his wife in the Thomas Hardy novel. Look – some snivelling little scribbler like me should not be allowed to speak of him. If you don’t read Hardy get on and do it.
As it happens I know this area. A few years ago before I moved to France I was part of a sort of an artists/writers commune just outside the village of Piddletrenthide. It was here that I met the poet Oscar Sparrow and became interested in Buddhism. Oscar spends a lot of time in Thailand and at one time was actually a monk. Check out his poem “Farang” which I’ve added to my website with his permission. My main memory of the commune was of leaking roofs, lentils and wind which entered our lives by either route and often both.
Tomorrow I go home to my lovely Gilles. I just could not leave Wessex without seeing again the famous Cerne Giant. I had seen this ancient chalk figure many times before I met Gilles but to me this is him walking up the hill past le château in the morning carrying my hot baguette.
Oh, I finished Fantasy Lover. The Greek love slave was released from his suffering. I kinda knew how he must have felt.