11-17-2017, 12:26 AM
(This post was last modified: 11-17-2017, 12:44 AM by Dr. Ivor Yeti.)
Nope, not a dream. Pretty much every day at 55 Highland.
Probably the last word on this, but after the cleaners left the apartment, I went to look out the kitchen window, which was my perch for the last 5 years. I liked to sit and look out at the bay, and in particular, the freighters that would come sliding past the buildings on Fisherman's Wharf. Once in a great while, I would get lucky and see a cruise ship leave.
As I looked out, the universe threw me a gaudy bone; a cruise ship was leaving, all lights and immensity, bigger than the freighters. I got to watch it slide slowly by, heading for the Golden Gate. I locked the doors, but left my keys inside and left.
I ran a quick errand (dropping off the modem to be shipped back to Comcast) and then headed to the fencing club. Since I was passing my new place, I swung by to drop off the few things that I had gleaned from North Beach, two lost photo albums and a book that my first fencing master had given me. As I pointed my bike down Cabrillo Ave, I could see the ocean, which I love seeing every day now. This time, the rain had let up and off in the ocean was that same cruise ship.
Probably the last word on this, but after the cleaners left the apartment, I went to look out the kitchen window, which was my perch for the last 5 years. I liked to sit and look out at the bay, and in particular, the freighters that would come sliding past the buildings on Fisherman's Wharf. Once in a great while, I would get lucky and see a cruise ship leave.
As I looked out, the universe threw me a gaudy bone; a cruise ship was leaving, all lights and immensity, bigger than the freighters. I got to watch it slide slowly by, heading for the Golden Gate. I locked the doors, but left my keys inside and left.
I ran a quick errand (dropping off the modem to be shipped back to Comcast) and then headed to the fencing club. Since I was passing my new place, I swung by to drop off the few things that I had gleaned from North Beach, two lost photo albums and a book that my first fencing master had given me. As I pointed my bike down Cabrillo Ave, I could see the ocean, which I love seeing every day now. This time, the rain had let up and off in the ocean was that same cruise ship.
In the Tudor Period, Fencing Masters were classified in the Vagrancy Laws along with Actors, Gypsys, Vagabonds, Sturdy Rogues, and the owners of performing bears.