I remember learning to write in Mrs Rickard’s first grade class at Taree West Primary School. I had a bad habit, or so she felt, of wanting to add just a little more length to my strokes such as on a ‘p’ or ‘y’. The problem was that when writing with crayons, it was almost impossible to get the two strokes to join. I can still see my gangly letters with little dislocations. I got into trouble for this but, when handwriting large letters, I still do it today.
Fortunately, I don’t hand-write much anymore because it has always been reasonably illegible. But clearly I am still writing in other ways, such as right here, right now.
A blog may well be the latest in a long line of attempts to add just a little bit more to my sometimes hesitant communication. I hope some of the things I write will at least join up, perhaps with you, or someone, or God himself.
In the meantime, Sydney weather has heeded the bitter remembrances of ANZAC Day (April 25) and rushed about angrily in cold gusts all day, tempered only by the sun’s impertinent warmth. The sun has called it quits now, however, and the door is open behind me and there is cold air on my neck.
See you later.