Last week our satellite modem packed up. For a week we lived in splendid isolation. I didn't even walk the 4 kilometres to the village. A great tranquility descended. No emails to respond to. I could do nothing or something without wondering if I should be doing something else. What a dreadful intrusion these technological miracle communications gizmos are into people’s lives. No one may ever be alone any more. No one is allowed to be lost, to wander off without telling anyone. We must all be at the beck and call of anyone who desires to contact us at any time... we rebelled from that as soon as we retired – aged 47. We’ve never owned a mobile phone, and the ringer on our telephone is turned off; we have not bought a newspaper for about 40 years, and never listen to the radio. We do watch French and Spanish news, and occasionally Australian if we come in from the garden on time. And yet we seem to be as well or better informed as everyone else we meet.
Books are all the extra companionship I need – especially good fiction. There’s time to think and respond, and consider and reflect... and then discuss over breakfast with Hans.