The Tempest

29 August 2011

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 Scofield


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