Month: August 2008

Upon the first reading of the following paragraph, I was struck by its profound meaning and disturbed by its painful truthfulness at the same time. It's stuck in my head ever since, and I've reread it on a number of occasions in order to be able to soak in the totality of its forcefulness.

"At the imminent prospect of battle one experiences a wild excitement that precludes rationality. But in the boredom of waiting for it, one's mood changes. The excitement transforms itself into a kind of thoughtfulness that is solitary, but which requires the reassuring presence of others; people offer each other cigarettes in low voices, and when they pat each other's backs, their touch feels the need to linger. Some write notes or poems that will be found upon them after the event of their death, detailing regrets and previously unacknowledged longings. Others pass the time dismantling, cleaning, and reassembling weapons that are already in immaculate condition. They pass handfuls of ammunition from one pocket to the other, weighing up the best way to distribute it for ease of access. Others walk about with their hands in their pockets, smiling wanly, and with genuine affection, even at those who have always annoyed them intensely. Everyone looks at the world with heightened acuity, as though perceiving for the first time the globular abdomen of an ant, or the porous texture of snow."

- The Troublesome Offspring of Cardinal Guzman by Louis de Bernieres.

Other books by him that I've read:

• Captain Corelli's Mandolin
• Birds Without Wings
  
• Red Dog

My golfing opponent decided to give me a break on the second par four hole when he could have easily penalized me a couple strokes to his advantage.

The way it started was that the third player in our flight was located on the fringe of the green. Because he was unable to address his ball properly with my ball in the way of his left foot, he asked me politely to mark my ball.

So that is exactly what I did. Without thinking much of it, I proceeded unconsciously out of habit to clean my ball with a couple slight rubbing movements of my palm and fingers.

I figured that since my ball was overhanging the green half way that the usual rules of golf would apply, therefore allowing me to clean my ball after marking it.

However, although to the casual observer it may have appeared not unreasonable to assume that the ball was actually on the green, the official rules of golf are very clear and strict about this oversight of mine.

According to the official rules, the ball is only deemed 'on the green' when any part of the ball is 'touching' the green.

Overhanging half way is NOT the same as touching the green. My opponent was correct, quite observant, and he could have easily incurred the penalty on me. Even though I was requested to mark and pickup my ball, I was not allowed to clean it in any way whatsoever, not even a subtle rubbing motion of my fingers.

Although this action did not lead to any bad feelings or serious altercations towards each other, I was shaken up enough about the whole affair that I proceeded to double bogey the next two holes.

Thereby giving myself the penalty strokes I probably deserved anyway, even golf is not immune to the law of retribution.

That is why the game of golf is an interesting sport in that regard. I've learned my lesson and won't forget it the next time.

Where in the world am I going to put all my computer books?

Now that Lennart has decided to live at home again he has taken over his old room which I had conveniently converted into my working room and library.

Right now there are piles of books spread all over the floor of our sleeping room, which is not the best solution but at least they are readily accessible when I require them as reference.

Tomorrow we will be traveling to the Spanish island of Mallorca where we'll be staying for eight days at a small place on the east coast called Cala d'Or. I look forward to a fun and relaxing time. According to the weather forecast it will be a warm and sunny week there.

Early every morning just before the sun comes out and the ground is still moist, droves of slugs make a heroic attempt to cross the narrow bike path.

To the human eye this path is about two meters wide, just wide enough for two bikes to pass each other, but for the average slug it's more likely something nearer to two football fields long.

Nature calls and the many slugs leave the comforts of the tall grass in pursuit of something better. What this might be no one is sure.

Unfortunately, many do not survive this noble adventure, their meager lives smashed in an instant underneath the massive tires of the randomly passing bicyclists.

This slug makes it across without any problems, that slug barely misses the giant tire and manages to slip by the last few centimeters, and fate calls the shots as yet another slug gets splattered before it can even perceive what life might be like on the other side.

Like dead soldiers strewn across a disheartening battlefield, the squashed slugs are scattered as far as the eye can see.

What unearthly battle could create so many innocent victims?

These are the wonderful scenes of nature that call me when it is time to escape from a long day's work and inspire me to bicycle clear around the local lakes called Reeuwijkse Plassen

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