RuKsaK

I’m flying today, to join my family in Russia. The usual horror to body and mind I’ll endure only because of an honest-to-God belief in statistics. With sweating, upturned palms I’ll recite a silent mantra of percentages, distances and times. Once take off is over I’ll sit back to wait for sleep to hit me, or even just slowly creep up my body, but it never does. Each shake of metal will make me cringe and the numbers jolt back to my brain as they always do – but they are a mostly useless salve.

As it happens, I believe in fate also – mainly because it suits me. Red t-shirts look awful on me, but fate brings out the best in me. I’ve got the eyes for it. Despite the plane’s precision and professionalism, I still imagine gods picking up these metal darts and flinging them to wherever they land. Today I’m hoping for Bacchus to take a look at mine – Bacchus surely likes Russia and wouldn’t risk a dodgy lob. He’ll be nice and exacting and land me just where he wants. He’ll release us all to that country of alcohol, to share his fate.
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Anyway, anyway, RuKsaK will try to get Charity – zero to you in the next few days, but for the most part I’ll be spending time with my family – Bacchus willing – and not you lot. I’ve got a four-week holiday, so I’ll be posting a maximum of once a week while I’m Russia and the UK, but I hope to spill something insightful on what it’s like to a foreigner returning home.

Saturday, July 30, 2005

Bacchanalian arrow