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Description
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Publié par | Troubador Publishing Ltd |
Date de parution | 13 mai 2020 |
Nombre de lectures | 0 |
EAN13 | 9781838595951 |
Langue | English |
Poids de l'ouvrage | 2 Mo |
Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0250€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.
Extrait
Woke in the small hours unconvinced that the evolution of our species was being a success. Remembered just in time that the trick is to take the long view.
Copyright © 2020 N. Micklem
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.
Matador
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Wistow Road, Kibworth Beauchamp,
Leicestershire. LE8 0RX
Tel: 0116 279 2299
Email: books@troubador.co.uk
Web: www.troubador.co.uk/matador
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ISBN 978 1838595 951
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Matador is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd
This book is dedicated to the memory of Mr and Mrs J.M. Macdonnell of Toronto, Canada, who welcomed me into their family when I was a boy far from home
Also by N.Micklem:
Plain Jesus, the Events on Nisan 14
The Men who were Honest to Jesus and What They Did
The Nature of Things Post Truth, Emotion, Tribalism, Contentment and Other Things for Thinking
On the Lookout
Putting Adam and Eve and the Pantomime Dame out to grass with a quiet word in the ear, here are one or two other people. Let’s see how they run.
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1
Some people
The Persian laid out his tiles carefully on the worn rug. It had been a long night. It had never occurred to him that he might not win. Now, as the sun climbed slowly in the sky and thickened the still air in the yurt, he felt a pang of compassion for his opponent.
Pushing his copy of The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam in the original tongue into his backpack, he set off on the twenty-three-minute walk in the desert to the refinery where he worked, sporadically, at enriching uranium. When at work, he often dreamed of asking for a rise.
Meanwhile, in a different time zone, the children’s author stared at the words that he had just written, ‘lackadaisical lodestar’, and wondered which way to turn next in order to get back to his chosen subject ( Lucy Blanchescut and the Cambridge Hydraulics ) without losing his younger readers.
Sometimes words seemed to have a life of their own. Even as the words in that sentence flashed in sequence across his mind, he knew that that was not what he really believed about words. He asked himself how he could be so certain about what he really believed, but did not wait for an answer…
He had been lying on his bed earlier that morning, on his back, knees up, wool gathering, when he became aware that he was not alone. The signals came from sensors in the skin on his back. They were not alarming. He looked down towards his feet. The cat was already within reach, tail held erect with a curl at right angles at the top. He said ‘hello’ in a friendly voice, reached out slowly, scratched the top of its head, looked the cat in the eye and looked away. After a short pause, the cat moved towards him and rubbed its nose and forehead briefly into his right thigh, before rubbing its left flank down his right calf and lying down just out of sight beyond his feet.
It was not a highly charged emotional event, but he had no doubt that emotion was involved. Consider first the purely physical aspects of the meeting. Take the apparently effortless jump of a portly cat, no longer young, onto a bed, the surface of which was three times higher off the ground than the eyes in its head. Think of the speed with which the cat’s brain made, in mid-air, the fiendish calculations necessary to land lightly on the bed. Think of the planning involved in jumping and raising the tail on landing to indicate ‘no threat’; not to mention the initial curiosity: ‘Is he up there?’; and the memory: ‘He often is.’
When he got up a few minutes later, the cat was lying contentedly at his feet, apparently enjoying the satisfaction of being near some other living thing after a lonely night on the tiles. Not for the first time, he was conscious of a certain empathy with the cat.
People who write stories for young children have difficulty in being recognised as great writers, seldom winning Man Booker or Pulitzer prizes. There is perhaps a feeling that there are too many animals, too childishly anthropomorphic. We now know that in the course of evolution, other mammals’ brains have come to consist of similar parts similarly arranged to those of our brains and that they work in similar fashion. You may have noticed that in the latest volume in the Lucy series, Lucy has the last laugh.
The third man had a number of old friends, notably Gully, Point and Silly Mid-Off. Gully was an all-rounder and the best of the bunch at cricket, but Gully was not his best friend. He found it difficult to say exactly what needed to be added to a standard friendship to qualify the friend as a valued friend. Throw another ball into the machine for fielding practice. And then another. It wasn’t so much the actual catch as being able to count on someone to make his best try to catch anything coming off the machine.Call that ‘trust’. He wondered what made Trusted Catcher tick. He sighed.
A day in the life of an astronaut. It has not been established whether the astronaut was a Martian or a native of the Pleiades. Whichever he was, he put his craft down carefully in a meadow on a bank of the River Thames. There had been a malfunction. He was lost. He tested the pressure outside the spacecraft and the quality of the air. He opened the hatch, lowered the ladder and stepped down onto a buttercup, only to come face to face with a cow. Nothing in his briefing, not a word in his instruction manual, had prepared him for this encounter, but he was not an astronaut for nothing.