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Not telling
Feb. 16th, 2006 12:47 pmIt wasn’t the front page headline that caught my eye. Tucked away in a corner of the paper, not too far back, but not out of sight neither, the little snippet promised “Complete Guide to Bookcrossing Tomorrow!!!!!!”
Shrieks added by myself. Heaven knows Dunedin wouldn’t allow anything like an exclamation mark in their morning news.
In fact I had to walk several kilometres around the city centre before I found a shop that would sell me a newspaper. And even then it was a tiny, hole in the wall sort of place.
Dunedin is like that. The face it presents to the world is dour but welcoming. Scandals and excitement are conducted behind closed doors, unless they be excitements related to the history and heritage of the place. Scottish bagpipe festivals are big here. Really big.
Cathedrals are another source of exuberance, if pinnacles of grey stone may be said to be exuberant.
Perhaps this is why I like the city. It is conservative, understated, introspective. Much like myself, and I kept on smiling all the way down the main street with a name so conservative it has slipped my mind entirely. Perhaps it was Main Street. I felt like I had come home. I felt like whistling, except that it would have been out of place here. And I can’t whistle.
I whistled on the inside. And hugged myself with joy when I saw that snippet in the paper. Dunedin’s BookCrossers had beguiled the local paper.
As they had me.
I sat in on the final planning session before the 2006 BookCrossing Convention, sipping my cup of coffee and nibbling on the Tim-Tams they insisted I consume. The comfortable room in Boreal’s comfortable house was awash with bookmarks, charms, stickers, convention timetables, lists and books. Especially books. Boxes of books. Piles of boxes of books.
I wish I could share the secrets I learnt last night. The whole convention is full of surprises. But my lips are sealed, and in true Dunedin fashion I must hide them away on the inside. A knowing smile is all you’ll get out of me. You will not learn about the Big Bungee Jump from me. Oh no.
So if you see a team of workmen labouring away under the gaze of Robbie Burns in the city octagon to erect a mountain of books and rig scaffolding, safety equipment and steps, I’ll just smile dourly and hum.
Shrieks added by myself. Heaven knows Dunedin wouldn’t allow anything like an exclamation mark in their morning news.
In fact I had to walk several kilometres around the city centre before I found a shop that would sell me a newspaper. And even then it was a tiny, hole in the wall sort of place.
Dunedin is like that. The face it presents to the world is dour but welcoming. Scandals and excitement are conducted behind closed doors, unless they be excitements related to the history and heritage of the place. Scottish bagpipe festivals are big here. Really big.
Cathedrals are another source of exuberance, if pinnacles of grey stone may be said to be exuberant.
Perhaps this is why I like the city. It is conservative, understated, introspective. Much like myself, and I kept on smiling all the way down the main street with a name so conservative it has slipped my mind entirely. Perhaps it was Main Street. I felt like I had come home. I felt like whistling, except that it would have been out of place here. And I can’t whistle.
I whistled on the inside. And hugged myself with joy when I saw that snippet in the paper. Dunedin’s BookCrossers had beguiled the local paper.
As they had me.
I sat in on the final planning session before the 2006 BookCrossing Convention, sipping my cup of coffee and nibbling on the Tim-Tams they insisted I consume. The comfortable room in Boreal’s comfortable house was awash with bookmarks, charms, stickers, convention timetables, lists and books. Especially books. Boxes of books. Piles of boxes of books.
I wish I could share the secrets I learnt last night. The whole convention is full of surprises. But my lips are sealed, and in true Dunedin fashion I must hide them away on the inside. A knowing smile is all you’ll get out of me. You will not learn about the Big Bungee Jump from me. Oh no.
So if you see a team of workmen labouring away under the gaze of Robbie Burns in the city octagon to erect a mountain of books and rig scaffolding, safety equipment and steps, I’ll just smile dourly and hum.
