Today is one of those days where the pang of homesickness is quite overwhelming. Where it stings your eyes and, however briefly, takes your breath away.
That it comes on today is not that surprising - two dear friends have just got married in North London, where TOH is in attendance; and I'm listening to TMS on the radio, and I have a mountain of horrible work to do.
TMS is, gloriously, interviewing Stephen Fry in the Tavern Stand at Lord's, who talks of his conversion of people to enjoying cricket by comparing its interest and merits to a landscape, a Homer epic - not a Charge of the Light Brigade, all climax, which ends up more disappointing. He also referred to the heavenly thing that is being able to listen to TMS in a country where cricket is utterly unimportant. He related his experiences in Hawaii, which was lush, fringed with palms and sand, but he suddenly realised that something was missing - the cricket grounds that one sees everywhere in the background in similar landscapes in the Caribbean.
So, today, I miss home. I will try for cheerier posts when my melancholy (and self-indulgence) has passed.
No comments:
Post a Comment