I have added the eighth of December to the list.

The seventh of March is now a big day on my personal calendar. I'll explain some other time.

All things considered things are pretty good. Neato, even.

Last week I was on a long-distance phone call when the subject of the moon was mentioned by the other party who was, at the time, gazing upon that celestial body and favourably impressed. I looked out of my east-facing upstairs window, and there she was, a whisker off full, and blue, and as wonderful as ever, about forty-five degrees above the horizon (a little hard to judge when the Port Hills make the horizon). But anyway there we were, making a neat triangle with the moon, one August night. 

Well, as I write, here in NZ, it's the 22nd of July. So yesterday was the 21st, though of course right now it is still the 21st in some places. Anyway, the 21st is the anniversary of the death of Robert Burns (in 1796, at Dumfries). Earlier this year I met someone who hadn't heard of Burns. I was surprised but obviously these things happen. I mean, it's not as if he's forgotten and I hope when that day comes that I'll be long gone. Anyway, Burns died, at 37, leaving a family in a bad way. A sad story, but common enough in those times, I expect. There is a statue of him in the Octagon in Dunedin (see it on 'Slightly Saltirical', if you like). I visit it every time I'm there and when I'm done I visit him (so to speak) in a painting by Charles Hardie that is on display in the Dunedin Public Art Gallery. It depicts Burns meeting Sir Walter Scott.

'Kissing an egg without salt is like eating a man without a moustache.'

'He who standeth upon the foot of man limpeth also.'

Neither a lute nor tambourine be,
But practise your songs under the banyan tree.
( A pity it isn't banyon, but never mind.)

Is this to be my fate? Surely things can be arranged better than that. But if not, then what does one wear?