Purveyor of Bollocks to the Crowned Heads of Europe
Thursday, 29 September 2016
Runfold Palace and the Towers of Jocasta
This title was inspired by The Forests of Was, as imagined by a fellow blogger's spelling correction - or lack of. It puts me in mind of Doctor Who and the Thyme Lawns. Old-timers here will remember that it is actually a misreading of some house signs spotted by me from a passing bus near Farnham, almost 50 years ago.
The signs actually read, 'Runfold Place', 'The Towers', and 'Jocasta', but we did not know this until an expedition party had been sent out to explore the exotic location.
I had been in a dream when flying past on the bus, and this was an everyday occurrence when I was young. Sometimes I would in such a deep one, that I would watch the bus pull up, other people get on, then watch it pull away again before realising that I should have got on it as well.
If you look at my avatar here (it is a cropped photo of me when I was five years old) you will actually see the propensity to dream in my eyes. I was a dreamy kid.
These days I do most of my dreaming at home. It's safer. Our home does not have a name which will give you an idea of what we aspire to dream about. It is a number against a street name.
How many 'Dunroamin's are there in the leafy suburbs of G.B.? How many 'Lindisfarne's? How many 'Shangi-La's?
I thought that 'Jocasta' was a game played with a rubber ball which is tethered to a wooden block - in fact I know it is. I stopped myself from buying an old set for sentimental reasons the other day.
So I sit here at home, dreaming, whilst I wait for a delivery of specialised adhesive to arrive from Germany which will send me back out into the harsh, real world again.
You have to remember that cooking has become a chore for me, so I find no escape in recipes. I must try to change my attitude - take pleasure in the small, day to day things. I must grow older if I find the time.