Rummaging around in the attic...
is one of the perks of getting over an illness. This is the first time in eight weeks I have not been at home either unpacking my bags, or almost immediately re-packing them getting ready to leave again. It is the first time in several months I have been up in the attic without swearing at leaking pipes or stuck valves. It is the first time in several years that I have thought about someone I once was.
An attic is a wonderful place in which to bury treasures for yourself to rediscover further on; in this case twelve years further on, and I seem to have lived a lifetime since I hid them away. Two other bloggers had seperately jolted my memory with tales of MoominTrolls and desires to see the midnight sun. I had a very burning urge to open up the box and see myself again.
It is a dark and very messy attic, with untidy heaps of wood for my half-finished building project; some old computers and stereo systems that, although they are broken, are still just capable of being mended one day when I need to save the world or host a loud party; stacks of old motorsport magazines that really should go on ebay; a spare mother gaffer-taped to a rocking chair in case a blonde starlet should come to call and want a shower; and finally, after an hour of searching, my wild ride, six months of my life in three ragged cardboard boxes.
Nearly to this day, twenty years ago, I left England on the start of a mad venture. Six months later, I returned, venture complete. Halfway up the world, between those two points of transit, I let someone take my photo.
Make the most of it, there are precious few shots of me around, and only one other of those is from the same era; although the lady shown above made her boyfriend take several photos of us, she only sent me this one as a momento. I would have liked the one where she had her arms around me.
But it is another story, another mission, possibly another blog, and for the moment, just another mindless interlude in what we call reality.
An attic is a wonderful place in which to bury treasures for yourself to rediscover further on; in this case twelve years further on, and I seem to have lived a lifetime since I hid them away. Two other bloggers had seperately jolted my memory with tales of MoominTrolls and desires to see the midnight sun. I had a very burning urge to open up the box and see myself again.
It is a dark and very messy attic, with untidy heaps of wood for my half-finished building project; some old computers and stereo systems that, although they are broken, are still just capable of being mended one day when I need to save the world or host a loud party; stacks of old motorsport magazines that really should go on ebay; a spare mother gaffer-taped to a rocking chair in case a blonde starlet should come to call and want a shower; and finally, after an hour of searching, my wild ride, six months of my life in three ragged cardboard boxes.
Nearly to this day, twenty years ago, I left England on the start of a mad venture. Six months later, I returned, venture complete. Halfway up the world, between those two points of transit, I let someone take my photo.
Make the most of it, there are precious few shots of me around, and only one other of those is from the same era; although the lady shown above made her boyfriend take several photos of us, she only sent me this one as a momento. I would have liked the one where she had her arms around me.
But it is another story, another mission, possibly another blog, and for the moment, just another mindless interlude in what we call reality.
posted by Sopwith-Camel | 8:16 pm
4 Comments:
You have been to Nordkapp?
During six months you must have visited many other places too?
Yes, but I saw very little of Finland. I crossed over from Sweden North of Overtornea, I think at Pello, and then I crossed back out of Finland to Norway at Kivijarvi. The only Finnish I think I learned was Hemakivi, (a stone to sharpen an axe) because I had worn my axe blunt with chopping wood.
"I have no idea how to pose, so I'm just going to stand, er... like this"
;p
Bless.
Alright, I admit my balls were still a little bit sweaty from the long ride.
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