It's almost time. Not yet but it's coming. I have to go home tomorrow, and the tramlines are starting to fill. I haven't made a list all week, no noodges or nags or reminders of cheques to write, people to call, errands to run. I like that but I'm not so sure that it's a good thing. All those fiddlies anchor us (me) in reality. Oh, dear, block those metaphors! I'm ranging from street vehicles to ships, tramlines to anchors. Well, bear with me. Are you still there? These past few lines illustrate what I intended to say this morning, something about the pretension of a writer, that no good thought shall go unpublished. Blogs are a terrible indulgence and an irresistible temptation. I write, therefore I am. Stop it. Time enough tomorrow, when I go home. Right now I'm going to swim.

In medieval times, most people lived and died within 8 miles of their birthplace, unless they were Crusaders (great travellers) or enslaved to peripatetic masters. Anyway, the average person had little opportunity to expand his horizons, I guess even less if he was a she. We take it for granted now that we can have friends in other cities, even other countries, and expect to see them, keep in touch. I know people, both married and un-, who maintain a close relationship for years at a time, sometimes without even seeing each other in the same room, or bed. Phone sex, of course, has been around for quite a while; I remember one movie (The Truth About Cats and Dogs) in which the pivotal base of the relationship hinged on a phone sex scene. I suppose these days Skype would make it more fun, certainly more graphic. I'll think about that later. I want to tell you about a dear, close friend who is gone now, out of range of the phone or Facebook or Twitter or Skype, and who was never close geographically or otherwise, not close enough. Our relationship had a great potential that was never realized. It was like that song with the line about a promise to see each other: "I know we'll have a great time then." But there was never enough time or space for us to fulfill the promise. It's not fair. I met someone on a trip who was realistic about long-distance relationships. We met on a cruise and spent a lot of time together talking, walking, eating, enjoying each other's company. At the end of the trip when we parted she thanked me for being her ship-friend and adding to her good memories. Ship-friend, not friendship.