Public Service Announcement

First, a couple of pictures:



This was taken just after our marriage ceremony at the Lothian Chamber (government office in Edinburgh), walking down the Royal Mile, the old high street of Edinburgh, towards the John Knox house and Scottish Storytelling Museum, wherein we had our reception. You may not be able to see too well, but Katie's boots are of the same tartan as my kilt: the Galbraith, that of her mother's family.



And this is us at home a day or so later, recovering.

Any rate, as hinted above, your Public Service Announcement for 13 January, 2008:

The United Kingdom Highway Code Number 206 states:

Drive carefully and slowly when [among other things] turning at road junctions; GIVE WAY TO PEDESTRIANS WHO ARE ALREADY CROSSING THE ROAD INTO WHICH YOU ARE TURNING [emphasis mine].

I offer up this bit of British legalia in response to an occasion underwent this evening by my self and spouse.

After an evening out with some friends, my poorly sighted self was escorting home my legally documented visually impaired, registered partly-sighted wife, when we were ignored crossing a road junction by first a middle-aged man in a large, dark blue or green estate (station wagon), and then quite nearly taken out by his daughter, following along in her silver Renault. She may've indicated she was turning into the lane we were currently navigating the exact middle of, but as her speed had not been decreased for the maneuver, we didn't have time to notice. I'd assumed she would stop and give us the right of way, and was quite surprised when I realised she had no inclination of the sort. Katie didn't see her until the car's headlights were reflecting off my glasses and the neat little nylon bits on my shoes, at which point, the vehicle was so close, that I swung the bag I was carrying out of the way, and kicked my forward leg up as a very meager means of defense. Even my enormous shoes wouldn't've stood up to the momentum hurtling towards us.

We were missed, but only just, and the look of angry incredulity on part of the driver was almost laughable. I was still in something akin to shock, having never been mown down by a Renault Clio 1.8 before, a block later, when a vaguely familiar estate wagon pulled in front of us blowing his horn. I asked if we could help, and he immediately launched into an attack of my assault on the car that had been following him (no relationship mentioned as yet). At this point, I let Katie, who has memorised statute 206, take over. He argued his point, saying it was WE who needed to go home and read the highway codes, and eventually drove off in a self-righteous, lower class huff. We'd scarcely recovered that disagreement when the silver Clio pulled up and demanded "Did my dad stop and talk to you? Am I going to get an apology?" which brought a laugh out of myself, leading her to recant her version of her father's irate and insulted, if somehow less intelligent, argument. Katie again assumed control of the inquest, stating clearly from 206. This was met by an ill-chosen expletive, which we laughed at, far worsening the mood of our automotive assailant, who drove off in a similar rage.

So, lest you have any similar incidents, let me state once more, British Highway Code 206: Drive carefully and slowly when turning at road junctions; GIVE WAY TO PEDESTRIANS WHO ARE ALREADY CROSSING THE ROAD INTO WHICH YOU ARE TURNING [emphasis, again, mine].

On lighter notes:

My wife asks I issue a further statement related to the anecdote recorded above, that all Scottish women are not so ill-bred as to hurl expletives thru lowered car windows at wronged and innocent pedestrians. Quite a lot of them, my favourite one included, are outstanding, honourable members of society.

Even lighterly, a specific howdy to my buddy WillieJake- d'ye know that it was 2 years ago today, if not yesterday, that we met in a hostel in Barcelona? You're response to "Where're y'all from?" ("Florrrrda") is still one of the sweetest greetings my ears've ever heard.

The other night, Katie and I were watching a recorded live set by one of our favourite English comedians, Bill Bailey (standard guest on "Never Mind the Buzzcocks", starred as 'Manny' in the BBC comedy series 'Black Books.). One of his bits included picking on books and television shows with titles along the lines of "1,000 Things or Places to See or Do Before You Die"... not so much as while you're alive, but certainly BEFORE you die. His point was that perhaps we're telling time in the wrong direction.

Which, as you might suspect of me with my soapbox blogging style, got me to thinking...

Great things tend to happen, it seems to me, while you're purposely living, not so much as when in the expectation of demise. You'll be happier when you're trying to be, than when you're worrying about your personal stopwatch.

One of the greatest memories of our married life thus far for Katie and I occurred at our wedding reception, about 7 hours into marital bliss. The meal had been eaten, a great many of the guests had already left, and those still present were clumped in small groups exchanging memories and exaggerations, or playing dominoes. We had an iPod linked into the cafe's sound system, and the song currently playing dawned on the whole group in the sort of way that 19 or 20 people would all notice a fresh breeze-- not simultaneous, but nearly. And, one by one, almost the entire room began singing together to Roger Miller's "King of the Road." Roger was my grandmother's cousin, so it's always been a favourite of my family, it's certainly a favourite of Katie and hers, and was apparently known to all but about 4% of our wedding party. What was more startling was the way we all reacted to the sight of each other singing unashamedly outloud-- we kept on. This shall remain one of the greatest moments of my life.

Ever read Thoreaus's 'Walden'?
"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear..." It's most well known quote is his conclusion that "The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. "

The general, compliant public tend to be resigned (Thoreau also expounds against resignation in the above passage) to whatever is, and however they perceive it, and such is as reality shall definitely be. Thoreau's great fear is that he, or anyone else, might try to eke out an existence, without a life being involved. That we might die oblivious to anything greater than the immediate, and immediately satisfactory. Think, do, experience. (To tie this vein, albeit weakly, to the original gripe of this post, If you don't take the time to learn the law, you'll convince yourself what it ought to be and absolve yourself of any mistakes).

So, to conclue this inadverent sermon: don't worry about what you have to do BEFORE You DIE, I encourage you to seek out ways to prove you are living. I do not have a comprehensive list, either for myself or anyone else, but I will offer a few meager suggestions:

Adopt, don't buy, an animal. Eat exotically. Tickle, or be tickled, senseless. Sing outloud. Loudly. Endulge in sensual pleasures. (Katie's perpetual resolution) Read a book, watch a documentary, learn something. Ride a bike, celebrate an anniversary (of any sort you can conceive), do something.

Y'all have a great week.
Jeffro

Incidentally, if anyone knows how I can widen the text margins, decreasing the girth of the blue columns here ----->
and
<---- over here, so that the body of my post isn't 9 and a half old English furlongs in length, I'd be most grateful.