Obsession

High winds, scattering a film of pine needles across the surface of the swimming pool.
And made a start on Neil Gunn’s "Off in a Boat." Rarely have I read anything that comes so close to describing the single minded obsession I’ve felt at times with buying, fitting out, or sailing a boat. As he himself noted, "No other writing had the slightest interest, and often I found myself astonished that people should read novels or plays or daily papers (apart, conceivably, from the advertising or financial columns). The possibility of a world war was a little upsetting, but the vision of a kettle of hot water upsetting over the Crew, if there were no gimbals, faded it out easily."
1938, after all.
My other task demanded even more single mindedness. I’ve to put together a eulogy for Fred, and I do believe I have the outlines of something that will work: a central theme, some humour (I think, allowable) and even a reflective ending (hopefully I can deliver it without faltering) - but reading it aloud, I’m dismayed to find it lasts seven minutes. How to prune it without losing the essentials is my next challenge.
An evening out in the crowds, and sitting outside a bar I find that a deposit has arrived without warning. How very welcome. Shame I don’t need a new boat.