Walking Commentary
Thoughts and cycling from Manchester to Rome in 2023
Is this the real life?
Is this just fantasy?
Caught in a landslide,
No escape from reality
– from Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen
The post office counter person headed to a local shop for milk and cake while I was addressing three envelopes sold to me to save 40% on postage. I appreciated the recommendation but it cost me 20 minutes extra parking because that’s how long it took.
I saw an eye-catching item among many in a summary of global consumer spending. I don’t recall where I saw it but it stayed in my mind. In the segment on healthcare, a graph illustrated the huge outlays on treating symptoms over the last two decades. The graph also had a prediction for various consumer spending categories for the coming twenty years. It included that the next two decades will see phenomenal growth in DNA editing. Bear in mind this is you, the consumer, spending on DNA editing. It seems that our immune systems will be completely transformed in the near future and we will be happily paying for such DNA treatments. If only I knew an ethicist with whom to share my concerns.
That got me thinking about the plight of the Tasmanian devil.
What do a bow thruster, an interruption in server access and the Suez Canal have in common? Not much at first glance but stay with me as I try to join some dots.
This morning’s news included a report of a ship that had run aground in the Suez Canal. Four hundred metres long, the ship that is, my first reaction was to think software glitch or human error. My second thought was of an immediate reduction in global trade, by perhaps 10%. My third thought was of a price hike that two weeks of extra travel might mean for that 10%.
Caveat emptor: today’s musings may suffer from sleep deprivation.
I woke just before first cheese. It was light but overcast, very grey. Dublin Port was handling at least two cargo ships, one leaving, the other arriving. My mind was jumbled. Outgoing stolen cars and animal flesh? Incoming vaccines and fruit pickers? Pigeon toes above the bedroom ceiling scratched me wider awake. I picked up a book but it was too early for the whores who were grabbing fistfuls of jewels in the hallway as they left 738 Keizersgracht. I changed books. It was better to be reading of pancakes whose menu depictions tasted better than the real thing. Probably.
JG Ballard was in the news in 1973 for his novel Crash and I had no idea of the controversy the book created. Many considered it to be utterly pornographic. Then I saw the 1996 Cronenberg movie. After which I read the book. But why did I ever read the book? I suppose it’s because I presumed the movie was more extreme than the book. I was horrified even though I classified the movie as urban science fiction. But it was more Alien than Barbarella. Before seeing the movie, I didn’t know there was a word for a car-crash sex fetish. I was intrigued that symphorophiliacs existed at all. Sometimes reality offers things even more strange than a vampire. And since I lived under the flight path to Heathrow at the time, I briefly wondered if there was a word for plane-crash fetishists.
We watched Leinster Rugby host Ospreys for a very rare home loss. We can’t go to home games due to the pandemic and so we watched on TV. There was a degree of horror for home supporters as Ospreys scored 21 points in the last twelve minutes to win by 24 point to 19. Leinster had the game in the bag from half time but did nothing to consolidate their 19-3 advantage.
