The Weaver's Answer

The clock ticks on, marking time, as Christmas doesn't happen. A couple of token cards for when an email just won't do. Minimalist presents are given as destiny presents itself. The farewell drinks are all drunk, and box-fever rages in the air. I swing between excitement and abject fear. What have I done? What have I started? Where will it end? If just for one second I could glance upon the loom…

We leave on the 27th, with our lives and dreams in a van. Andy, a good friend of mine from the music days and a professional driver, will be our captain. Gina will be in charge of navigation and organisation. I will flip the tapes and rock backwards and forwards in true master-of-my-own-destiny style. Overnight will be in Germany. From there the road to Prague is straightforward, as history has shown. Hit the border by early afternoon. Beer and dumplings by evening. Don't mention the unpacking unless you want to see me cry.

I was given a good send-off by my old school; my former employers as they will shortly be. I wish I had the same confidence in my abilities that they all seem to have. Maybe they're just glad to get shot of me in Inspection year. It wouldn't look very good if the narks walked into my lab just as one of my special mega-death lumps of potassium was spraying molten metal towards the ceiling. In my many leaving speeches (one for every occasion) I wished the best to everyone there and I meant it.

This is my last entry from London. The end of the beginning. It will take a while to get everything set up but entries will of course continue in the New Year.

Final thoughts… I have written many times about Gina's father who could never return home after World War II. He died before the revolution and so he never saw the free country that he was fighting for. The following words, by Czech nationalist writer Viktor Dyk, were read by one of his fellow exiles at his funeral:

"To be famous, happy, create and be wealthy.
To be a fighter or a tribune of the nation.
These were the stars which shine in youthful dreams,
In magical days when tomorrow brings fulfilment.

Again, as in those days, the day is dawning.
I see again as I did then the shining stars.
From all those wishes only one has remained:
Without shame to walk again in the streets of Prague."


In those words I find my answer. There in the distance your loom I think I see. Could it be that after all my prayers you've answered me?