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When I was a boy, Turkey was mysterious and exotic place to me. They were not Christians there; they ate strange food; and wore strange clothes. There was something called a ‘bazaar’ where white women were kidnapped and sold into white slavery. Bob Hope and Bing Crosby, or was it Errol Flynn, got into all sorts of trouble there with blood thirsty men with curved swords. There was a song on the radio that reminded me over and over again that ‘It’s Istanbul not Constantinople Now’, sung by The Four Lads, possibly the first ‘boy band’.
The fellow sitting beside me slammed his book closed and sat looking pensive.
The bus was approaching Cremorne junction. I like the M30. It starts where I get on so I’m assured of a seat and it goes all the way to Sydenham in the inner West, past Sydney University. Part of the trip is particularly scenic, approaching and crossing the Harbour Bridge. We’d be in The City soon.
My fellow passenger sat there just staring blankly into space. I was intrigued. So I asked what he had been reading that evoked such deep thought. He smiled broadly, aroused from his reverie. “Oh it’s just Inferno the latest Dan Brown,” he said.
As a follow-up to my radiation treatment for prostate cancer, that I reported here as: Medical fun and games, I recently underwent a PET scan, to check that all is well.
When I first heard of them I imagined that a PET scan was a more generic all-encompassing version of a CAT scan - perhaps one involving dogs and rabbits; or even goldfish?