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We caught the Metro from our hotel (there is a station in the basement) to the airport and all was well, until we boarded a dingy Finnair aircraft (codeshare with Qantas).  After a long delay on the ground we finally got going (Fin in air?), probably not their fault.

But then the plane started falling apart. As we took off, bottles of water tumbled down onto Wendy from a broken pocket above.

We were soon to be served an almost inedible one-course meal - no bread; no salad; no little chocolate or cheese, no desert.  We chose different options but both were equally horrible and pushed aside, hardly touched. It was like the Woody Allan joke in 'Annie Hall': comparing life in general to a retirement home: "terrible food - and such small portions".  We both asked for wine. Red or white?  No varietal sub-options. We were each given a tiny one-glass bottle. Wendy asked for another. Certainly madam - snigger. She's still waiting.

Oh well! Maybe breakfast would be better? But there was no breakfast! The only other food provided on the flight was in a small cardboard box, literally thrown, from side-to-side, as the attendant passed down the isle. It contained some sort of tasteless, bar only marginally more edible than the box it came in.

On the bright side the plane didn't crash. And we have now found another airline to put at the bottom of our list, that was almost worse than Aerolineas Argentinas. 

 

 

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Travel

Malaysia

 

 

In February 2011 we travelled to Malaysia.  I was surprised to see modern housing estates in substantial numbers during our first cab ride from the Airport to Kuala Lumpur.  It seemed more reminiscent of the United Arab Emirates than of the poorer Middle East or of other developing countries in SE Asia.  Our hotel was similarly well appointed.

 

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Fiction, Recollections & News

A Twisted Pigs Tale

 

This is a little exercise in creative writing.  The brief was to reimagine the Three Pigs from a different perspective.   The original is a parable about the virtues of forward thinking, providence and hard work, so that only the most abstemious pig survives the metaphorical wolf.  I thought it was a bit tough on the middle pig who is just trying to find a balance between work and play.   So here is my version:

 


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Opinions and Philosophy

The Prospect of Eternal Life

 

 

 

To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream:
ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause:
… But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;

[1]

 

 

 

 

When I first began to write about this subject, the idea that Hamlet’s fear was still current in today’s day and age seemed to me as bizarre as the fear of falling off the earth if you sail too far to the west.  And yet several people have identified the prospect of an 'undiscovered country from whose realm no traveller returns' as an important consideration when contemplating death.  This is, apparently, neither the rational existential desire to avoid annihilation; nor the animal imperative to keep living under any circumstances; but a fear of what lies beyond.

 

Read more: The Prospect of Eternal Life

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