The Porpoise Of Meaning
I’m having a weird time of things recently. Computers breaking, internet flaking… you know. So it seems like an opportune time to formalize a life goal.
I will, one day, write a book. It will be a really bad book, one that no one should read. Unless they’re feeling especially brave and would like to prove a point. It is a very common life goal, shared by several non-descript people, and a relatively tame ambition that few actually fulfill. I have been told that if I work hard at writing, I may have an outside chance of finishing it. Finding anyone willing to publish it will be a different matter altogether.
NON-SEQUITUR HERE: The first time I actually grasped that Douglas Adams is no more, and that there will be no more DNA books, was in 2009 (I think). I had just got a first edition copy of Last Chance To See (co-written with Mark Carwardine), and was reading the very first pages. I remember reading about the Chinese River Dolphin being closed to extinction (now extinct), and I realised how much DNA loved dolphins, fish and the water in general.
So I think my book ought to be called The Porpoise Of Meaning. I hope I don’t have to explain the pun or the book reference.
