As is too often my way, I start with a vast oomph of energy then, the initial thrill having evaporated, slow down and even grind to a halt. Not so with my ever-loved slang, with whom I have been in the most intimate of relations for over forty years, but it may seem that this substack has been similarly afflicted. Well. Up to a point, Lord Copper. The reality is that I have vanished beneath that tsunami of terror, panic attacks, blubberation, bureacracy and anticipatory excitement that is otherwise described as a challenge second only to bereavement: moving home. I keep researching GDoS, hitting the pause button there is not an option though things are somewhat restricted, but there isn’t much room left. Just too many cardboard boxes.
I hope very much to return with something when all is sorted in the new gaff. I may, perhaps, have worked out quite why we are taking so mouvementé (all senses) a step at this advanced stage of life. And are we running from, or more optimistically to?
In the meantime here is a boardgame based on Eugene Sue’s mid-19th century novel: Le Juif Errant or Wandering Jew.
Betwixt and between. And measured out in cardboard boxes.
Where is home? I'm new.