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john davies
notes from a small vicar
from a parish
in Liverpool, UK

    Friday, April 22, 2005
    I'm a thing of the road
    Timely. Switch Island traffic lights, 5.56pm, three hundred and forty miles wiser after leaving Iona this morning, and on the cd is Jim White singing, "I'm a man of means by no means, 'cause I'm a king of the road," his own scratchy, celebratory version of that country classic.

    Actually, by that stage I felt less like a king, more like a thing of the road, eyes aligned to the spinning tarmac, blood pumping in time with the sluice of oil around the whining engine, an auto automaton. But it was a good, easy, safe journey home. And along the way I felt also like a thing of the sea - atop two ferries crossing to Mull, then the mainland, in the company of seagulls and other travellers enjoying the gorgeous blue. And a thing of the sky, soaking in the sun's rays, revelling in the light and air of another gorgeous Scots day (been like that since Tuesday up there).

    It's good being a thing of the road, the sea, the sky. Tomorrow, however, I revert to being a thing of the church. And that's another thing altogether.