Ten years ago I was writing several blogs on various subjects - F1 motor racing, Music, Classic Cars, Great Romances and, most crushingly, a personal journal that included my thoughts on America, memories of England and Africa, opinion, humour, writing and anything else that occurred. It all became too much (I was attempting to update the journal every day) and I collapsed, exhausted and thoroughly disillusioned in the end.
So this blog is indeed a Toe in the Water, a place to document my thoughts in and on WdC but with a determination not to get sucked into the blog whirlpool ever again. Here's hoping.
I do the same. Some I remember, and other's all I can ask myself is, "What were you thinking?" And I know it's me asking because I recognize my voice, and I'm wearing my underwear. After a moment of deep thought, I answer myself, "Apparently, you weren't."
I like cloudy dqys at the beach. Those feet obviously belong to someone who is sitting in the sand with knees bent and legs placed widely apart for stability, probably leaning back with arms placed behind him for support, wondering why he's at the beach on a cloudy day? Or, wondering where everyone else is? Or, wondering who is taking a photo of my feet?
Quick note on your distance from OK City to Dallas: actually 205 miles (~330 km). If it was 390 mi and only took four hours, you'd be averaging 90+ mph. I think that only happens in Montana where they don't have speed limits.
By the way, I heard that Brits take trains everywhere (because of crowded roads?) and train place-to-place was also in time vs distance. Americans shun trains for the most part (even when there are some) just to show their independence and individualism, other things we're consumed by along with how much time things take and if each of us owns enough cars. Plus Americans don't get good education is math, so adding single-digit hours or days is easier than getting out a phone to figure mileage.
Who hasn't heard, "Are we there yet?" from a fidgety child strapped into the back seat. They appreciate the time concept better than the distance concept. "We'll be there by supper time" makes more sense. If it's a familiar route, kids look for landmarks. No one I know says, "I'll see you in 400 kilometres." It's four hours. That time estimate can and is a challenge, a dare if you will. Most drivers delight in shaving off driving time. The distance remains as is.
In Australia it is also time, rarely distance. My son came to visit last weekend, and he told the lady at the pub he lived "2 hours" away.
For the same reasons mentioned for the US above - we have long stretches of road with not much traffic outside the capital cities. But Australia is even more sparsely populated, while being pretty much the same size as the contiguous 48 states.
So, for me, going to Melbourne is 10 hours away. It is also 900km by road (560 miles).
Sydney is about 15 hours away (maybe more with the slow points now), 1500 km (950 miles).
Perth is 2 and a half days away (2500km, 1550 miles).
Sydney to Perth is about 4 days, 4000km, 2500 miles.
I had to look up the distances; I only knew the times.
Similar things are done in Britain. And I admit that I've never set out on a long drive without having given myself a target time for arrival. Which inevitably leads to certain bending of speed limits etc.
I had cause this morning to look up the words to the nursery rhyme, Miss Polly Had a Dolly. To my surprise, I found that the British version has one small but significant difference from the American. Here’s the version Google knows:
Miss Polly had a dolly who was sick, sick, sick
And she called for the doctor to come quick, quick
The doctor came with his bag and his hat
And he knocked at the door with a rat-a-tat-tat
He looked at the dolly and he shook his head
And he said, "Miss Polly, put her straight to bed"
He wrote on a paper for a pill, pill, pill
I'll be back in the morning if the baby's still ill
The only difference in the Brit poem is in the last line, which goes:
I'll be back in the morning with my bill bill bill
Apart from the facts that the words hark back to an earlier time when doctors still travelled to the patient, and that the poem’s origins are shrouded in mystery, reality insists that I prefer the British version.
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