Here. In Springfield

Well I made it, Bush. Forgive my silence yesterday. I would have written. I was counting on wi-fi connection at the airport and it wasn't available at Burbank; by the time I got to Denver, where I had my stopover, my mind was weary and befuddled to put any cogent thoughts together. The journey was an odd one: easy where I expected it to be hard, and hard where I expected it to be easy. Isn't that the way? A lesson to be learned again and again. Forget the expectations. Be in the moment as it comes. A great Buddhist wisdom.

The easy part was getting to Burbank airport and through security, I was all prepared for traffic jams, accidents on the freeway and allowed more than ample time... Nothing. Plain sailing, I expected the usual problems parking. A dream. Drove up, left the keys with one of the parking guys, strolled back across the street to the terminal. After the terrorist episode in London a few weeks ago, I expected longer lines than I've grown used to at security. A breeze. I was through in minutes. With an hour and a half to wait, I switched on the laptop and tried for the wi-fi connection. Nothing.

The flight to Denver passed, as they say, without incident. I made, as planned, the long trip to the terminal to meet with a fellow writer of similar interests--more of him and his work in a later entry, Bush--and chatted away, still on Los Angeles time, until he reminded me that this was Denver, and I had only fifteen minutes left before boarding. A race back through security to catch the train back to the concourses, with what seemed like an interminable wait at every station, then a dash down the long concourse to my boarding area--arriving out of breath to discover that the flight was delayed. Then came the hard part. I'm not the best person in the world when it comes to waiting. I waited and waited. An hour, two hours. Our plane had a faulty generator. We waited for the needed replacement. It didn't come... and didn't come.

And never cane. Finally, three hours later, they found us a new plane and got us off the ground. Arrived in Springfield three hours later than I had expected. A wonderful greeting, though, from Tom, a medieval art historian with a special interest in The Fens! Just up my alley, having spent my undergraduate years at Cambridge, where I studied, amongst other things, medieval literature. It seems a long time ago now. It WAS a long time ago. But we enjoyed a good glass of Scotch, a good glass of wine, a lively conversation...

And today... the speech. The reading. The lecture. The presentation... We'll see. I haven't been following your deeds, then, Bush, but I have gathered from glimpses of news reports that you've been busy promoting your war on terrorism. In the other war--Iraq--the volume has been turned up on that analogy with Wold War II, as though this mess were the latest noble war, the crusade of the 21st century. I don't buy it Bush. To paraphrase the late Lloyd Bensten in his famous vice-presidential debate with Dan what-was-his-name: you're no Winston Churchill.