We can’t catch a break, can we? Pandemics, economic tremors and now a stuck container ship. But I have to admit I found this latest crisis amusing. That’s the kind of person the pandemic’s made me.
A new Suez crisis
I’m sure you’ve all heard about it by now – a container ship (one of the largest in operation globally, no less) got stuck in the Suez Canal and it might take weeks to unstick it. You have to appreciate the universe’s sense of humour.
Consequences of the crisis so far include traffic diversion to other routes, higher oil prices and billions of dollars in losses for, I imagine, everyone along the supply chain. The reasons I’m enjoying this particular crisis are that one, nobody got hurt and two, the little people who make the products container ships carry have been paid for their work, so they won’t suffer, at least not immediately.
Insurers, I imagine, will suffer some losses but I’m trying and failing to find a situation in which I would feel sympathy for an insurance firm. I’m not happy about the price of oil, I can tell you this right away, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the past ten years, it’s that prices never stay the same for very long.
The arrogant bunch
I keep swearing I’d never write about politics in this blog and people keep throwing their arrogance in my face, tempting me. Most of the time, I can resist the temptation but today I couldn’t. Not after a deeply confused individual condemned gas stoves as climate wreckers and couldn’t we all just cook with electricity.
You know, one reason many nations are less than happy with the collective West is that the West tends to project itself on those nations and yes, I am aware I’m making a gross generalisation. This is exactly what that deeply confused individual did: he assumed that just like most Americans have easy access to electricity, so does the rest of the world. But it doesn’t.
The reason this piece of crap got to me was this arrogant assumption. I’ve been reading (and writing) about hundreds of millions of people who have zero access to electricity and who are forced to cook with whatever combustible material there is around. Gas stoves are a step up from this. So, if anyone thinks it’s just a matter of choice what to cook with, they’re profoundly wrong. End of impassioned political rant.
The four-hour journey
I’m writing this blog at 11:07 am on Saturday morning. We’re going to the country house today and I’m waiting for everyone to be ready. If we had Harry Potter-style names in our house, I’d be She Who Shall Never Move Slowly and Big C. would be He Who Should Not Be Rushed. Little C. could be anything she wants to be because that’s the kind of perfect parents we are.
Anyway, because of HWSNBR, it normally takes us as long to prepare for leaving the house as it takes us to get to the village, which is about 230 km from Sofia. There have been clashes of strong wills but, over time, we settled our differences. He can’t slow me down and I can’t rush him, and we respect each other’s flaws as best we can.
This is why I’m writing this blog while he inspects the house and starts taking luggage to the car (as if we’re moving house, honestly, and we are not).
Meticulousness is one of the qualities I lack and tend to appreciate it in other people, except in circumstances that don’t call for being meticulous. Alas, one of the things I’ve learned during the past 21 years is that it’s not an on-demand quality, exactly like my rashness. You can’t only be meticulous in one situation and switch to carefree rashness in another. What you can do is tone it down, however.
I’ve taken pains to learn to be less rash and he’s taken pains to learn to load some of the luggage from the previous day to save time on the Day of the Journey. What luggage, you ask, if we’re not moving house? Tools, mostly, handyman’s tools that HWSNBR doesn’t want to keep at the country house because of burglars. Some clothes, because try as we might there’s always some reason for moving clothes from here to there.
Then there’s the house plant watering ritual, the loading of the food, and the final inspection. With that done, we’re all ready to go, after a quick moment of silence while HWSNBR contemplates the possibility that we may have forgotten something, such as maybe international passports or a pony.
It is now 11:17 and the house plant watering ritual has begun. I’ll go pack whatever food’s not packed yet before settling for the wait.
P.S. Sunday noon. We arrived at 4:30 pm because of road repairs and a lunch stop/cat walk.
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This being my blog and all, it’s the place I feel most comfortable peddling my writing, so if you’re in the mood for some dragons and vampires, or mysterious vanishing planes, try The Lamiastriga (which you can’t read for free on this blog) or Sky High (which you can read for free on this blog or on Kobo).
De-zombify 