Tuesday, August 23, 2011
The spectral glow .
It's dark when we head off to the airport. The only light visible for miles around the spectral glow from the old farmers arc lamp. He's using the cool of the morning to continue work on his ancient Mercedes. As we drive past he looks up and waves .' The font ' can't help but wonder if the "improvements" he's making to the original design would be approved of by the manufacturer.
The American professors, ' the font ' and attendant baggage all delivered safely to the terminal . Wilf sits bemusedly in the back as luggage is unloaded, farewells made and passports and wallets checked for the umpteenth time . Ear tickles from them and a kiss on the head from 'the font'. Wilf beams .
McDonalds doesn't open until ten so the family fellow and yours truly drive back home, windows down, listening to Radio Nostalgie . At ten to six a phone in with a lady who has sixty five goats. She claims to improve the quality of her goats cheese by singing to them . She then gives a five minute rendition of which songs are the most successful. '' We ain't in Kansas now " I say to Wilf.