Well, it seems that the vagaries of the vagabond creates uncertainty and distrust - especially among those who are determined to assume "ownership", and "certainty" of the ground that we travel upon, and the space we travel through.
When I first began this journal of - perhaps - another journey, in February 2007, the house that I had been tenanting, paying rent - for over six years, had been sold, and the new owners - a young couple in their early thirties, full of the arrogance and enthusiasm of youth and fresh marriage; decided that that delightful cottage, un-assuming, but redolent with 50 years of subtle and caring echoes from owners and tenants past, should be demolished, bulldozed into dust.
The tiny rectangular patch of land held under Torrens Title, which market forces said was far more valuable than ambiance, the memories of yesteryear; and so, a "new" house - pregnant with the design and dreams of a future life - should be built.
And so it was - or - was in the process of being built, almost completed, as of November, last year.
I moved abode, hastily, without serious pre-planning. Just chucked everything that seemed necessary to my present and past life into cardboard boxes and moved. Found another. A roof, brick walls, somewhere to cook, to sleep, to wash and ablute.
But that is not what prompted this post.
There have been several other changes since this blog began. Apparently Google has swallowed Blogger, and is one of the reasons why there have been few posts since its inception.
I, with somewhat sheepish face ( though don't know why), have to admit that had forgotten how to "sign in". The paper record of the "Blogger username" and password had been hurriedly stuffed into the bottom of one of the tea-chests or cardboard boxes, whereabouts unknown - until recently.
Had also lost contact with my co-contributor. Apparently another vagabond. Had also shifted footprints, moved house. I can, and will - now thank him for giving me the vital clue which enabled me to negotiate my way through the myriad of mental hoops, gates, locks and fences which had been erected by the new "owners" of this particular piece of cyberspace.
While the cosmos knows not time, another year in the Roman calendar begins.
So - For the rare traveller who inadvertently stumbles upon these backwater pieces of writing - can only wish them joy.
For this day, and the coming days. For as long as one can read - or cyberspace exists.
