Marnova – of and from a wandering mind…

Marnova's musings on life, media and Mongolia

Archive for September 2007

[Chip off the old blog] Burma

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Current mood: focussed (written from a Christian perspective several years ago by an aquaintance)

A close family friend fled Burma three decades ago.

At what stage does intervention become justifiable?

Currently listening :
Is This It?
By The Strokes
Release date: 03 September, 2001

Written by marnova

September 30, 2007 at 2:20 pm

[Chip off the old blog] of and from a wandering mind (part 2)

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I feel I have neglected “my” space.  So some overdue half-baked musings and meanderings…


Yesterday, the first frost of the year crept in.  A hundred red berries, enjoying the hazy days of a truly Indian summer, fell in shock on my car, adorning it as if wrapping it ready for Christmas.

So winter approaches and really my year is only just beginning.  Still suffering fallout from the crash, but energy levels getting close to normal, and suddenly it’s all change again.  With my 30th birthday fast approaching, I had hoped to make this year one that counted, but I’ve slept more, not travelled, worked less, been more frustrated and grumbled more this year than any other!

The winds of change are blowing strong though. 


I attended a course recently, part of which explored the concept of insurance as mankind’s springboard to achievement (eg space exploration, scientific expeditions).  It made me think for a moment at least.  Yes, it’s true that without insurance, the potential costs of many activities would be prohibitive, potentially ruinous before we even set out – even driving down the street. 

But our predecessors didn’t stay at home and twiddle their thumbs.  Just one generation back, my parents certainly had no guarantees.  In days long bygone, doctors were rarely compensated monetarily at all for their work, accidents were facts of life;  instead friends & family rallied around in times of need.  That was their insurance policy. Anyway, there is too much that insurance doesn’t protect us from, to let life pass us by our of fear – incapacitated by our crazy culture of claims and counterclaims.  I’ll receive personal injury compensation, but nothing for unquantifiable fatigue and subsequent inability to do much useful, including look for work.  Not that I care much, I’m just thanking my lucky stars that I walked away from the scene. 

Having lived in Moscow in the wake of Communism, insurance was the sole thriving industry (other than organised crime of course).  Capitalism and market economies necessitate insurance;  raising quality of life above mere subsistence, the stakes are raised too.  All very well, but as I said, insurance offers no true guarantee – my knee is still broke, Challenger still blew up (not meaning to liken the two!) but I am not ungrateful for the buffer that payouts provide. 

Dougall from the Magic Roundabout famously once barked, “Stop the world, I want to get off!”  I’d like to think I would take many of life’s risks (travelling etc) if insurance wasn’t available, that my craving for living would win over.  To me, insurance is not so much a necessary evil (as many on the course declared), but a fact of life that comes with a lifestyle that there is no genuine way to opt out of. It comes hand in hand with modern society.  Let’s embrace it and enjoy the ride.  Insurance premiums and all.


“Would Inspector Sands please contact the station control room… Would Inspector Sands please contact the station control room… Would Inspector Sands please contact the station control room… Would Inspector Sands please contact the station control room…Would Inspector Sands please contact the station control room”

This boomed over the tannoy repeatedly as I waited for my train at Kings Cross St Pancras (extraordinarily beautiful building saved from demolition in the 1960s and finally being refurbed  It was repeated each time in French. 

No one found this curious.  In fact many people laughed at the fact that Inspector Sands was so much in demand and didn’t appear to have his mobile phone with him.  No one questioned the fact that it was a pre-recorded message in both languages.

A popular man in this day and age, Inspector Sands is the code message for London Transport – meaning that there is a serious problem and the station might need to be evacuated.  I would have thought they would have been more subtle, but given the docile reaction of those around me, they didn’t need to be.

And me?  I had a train to get.



Very delighted to be back in touch with my mountain biking desert host and my first assistant director through Myspace and Facebook respectively.  They singlehandedly make being on these sites worthwhile.  Let us never lose touch again. 

Whereas I am not sure what to feel about three (count ’em) exes becoming fathers this past month.  Well, for two of them I am most delighted.  I think.  As for the one who felt compelled to break four years of silence to tell me.  A sorry was due first, mate! ;-P

A male friend recently told me that the only reason he didn’t marry his wife sooner, was that he was scared that a better catch was just around the corner.  Is this the male condition?!!


I write this whilst I am in London, in between meetings, meals and dreams.  This is a wonderful city with energy all of its own. Just two weeks ago, I stood at a bus stop in Brixton wondering why I chose to leave.

Like all megalopolis’, it is so terrible too.  I craved a pactch of ground I could like down on and smile up at the sun.  Instead, I sit outside a Pret-A-Manger (it is at least, outside) the air so polluted it blackens the London Bridge and every passer by’s nostrils.  London is not so high rise and still, there is no sense of horizon – the sky lying somewhere out of reach beyond the smog.  People rush here and there.  From where I sit, I see a curious mix…tourists drinking from plastic bottles, a purveyor of chilled champagne, a shop of horrors, a gym, a tailor, an escalator that rises into a gold office block and few places to stop.  And see.

Maybe that is the energy that makes London.  People don’t stop – there is nowhere to stop.  Places to go.  Things to do.  Keep on moving.  You snooze, you lose.


Mist gathering in the Taw Valley.

I stood entranced, as a child would be, by the magick of the mist as it wound around the landscape below Little Silver Farm.  The mist would come up high, then subside and swirl around the valley. 

This is the setting to my honorary older bro’s childhood and he has now returned to breathe life back into the nest.

*In anticipation of the film of the same name

Currently listening :
By Johnny Mars
Release date: 17 November, 1999

Written by marnova

September 17, 2007 at 2:59 pm