I’m a bit old to be umming and aahing around at life’s crossroads. Or forks in the road. Been there done that, and since all the choices I made deposited me here, I can’t have done anything too grossly stupid along the way.
Not that I’ve been bowling down a well-maintained highway laughing and singing for 72 years. Or following nice bold signposts saying ‘first right, second left’. In fact I’ve been known to shoot myself in the foot to force detours and diversions. But sometimes the bumpy bits are more interesting, and certainly more educational, so complaining would be ungrateful.
Meanwhile part of the main road between here and Sydney is very cross. It’s being dug up. I suppose this is a good thing – another step in the process of turning one of Australia’s major highways into…well, a highway, instead of a two-lane road through the bush. It will expedite the traffic between Sydney and Brisbane and cut out the black spots where impatient drivers were wont to run up the arses of those moseying along enjoying the view.
It’s all very serious and important, all very carefully worked out and painstakingly constructed to last for what passes these days as forever – ie until we change our minds and decide it’s wholly unsuitable. But in reality, it’s all pathetically puny. All the earth has to do is hiccup, and all these very important stripes we’ve drawn on its surface will buckle and disintegrate. And it will probably serve us right.