Me? Well, I'm currently occupied with the challenging and stimulating years that lie between birth and death. So far so good.
Day by day I catch a few more of the world's absurdities and when I'm lucky I have a chortle at the lighter side of the planet's wonkiness. Fortunately, as the years roll by, I seem to be getting to grips with many of Mrs. Earth's intricacies and foibles; though believe you me there's a fair few I am leaving right alone.
I am sharing my thoughts about my traveled to places. When I'm up to it I top the thoughts off with an encapsulated experience. Or two.
To put it another way, I'm writing my place introductions as if I’m holding a dinner party, and I’m getting the spatial conversations ignited. As caring hosts should.
"Clifford. Clifford, have you met Barbara? No? Golly. Well Clifford, this is Barbara. And Barbara, this is Clifford. Barbara's been known to balance sliced caramelised strawberries on her kneecaps at charity events for the British Red Cross in the Sudan, you know. She has more talents, but let me allow Barbara to talk with you regarding those. Oh, refills."
(And I quietly retreat, leaving them to it. Six months on, wait for wedding invitation to arrive.)
Experiential place introductions. Yup. Stories and chats. Narrative. That's what I'm into. Yes, yes, oh yes, oh yes, Meg Ryan in a diner, yes, yes, yes.
When the geographical hellos are politely out of the way we can get deeper into the small talk regarding the spot visited. The juice that turns unknown space into cherished place. The spatial gossip about the Audreys-at-68, the Sheenas-at-15-No-Net-Curtains-No-Morals-Whatseover. The draughts in the Betjemen discussed parish church halls, and suggestions for Mr. Caslake's ailments (he brought them on himself if you ask me).