The third and final excerpt from my book appeared in the Guardian last week. Dealing as it did with the distinctions between social and cooperative enterprises it caused something of a reaction from the cooperative movement, which I tried to address in a response to the comments. Oh, well, you can’t please everyone.
As to Irena, she booked as quickly as she arrived, leaving this scrawled message on my window:
Our revels now are ended.
The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind.
I think she meant “wreck” not rack, but we get her meaning. I dread the approach of the hurricane season. My neighborhood is populated by a number of huge oak trees, poised to come crashing down on my house if the wind blows too hard and in the wrong direction. I already lost part of my deck to the massive limb of a 100 year old cherry tree which struck with such force it drove my poor Weber grill through the floor boards. My more prudent neighbors have cut their oaks down, but I can’t bring myself to. It would mean doing without the big red tailed hawk who visits every winter, perching in the high branches and scanning the surrounding area waiting for a dove to break cover.
I’m off to Maine today, and promise to write if I get work.
Rupert