Previous Articles

Foreign Thoughts

The Manana Prospect

Forget the footie, let's have a fiest!

My trouble with bouyancy

The Bird man of El Cotillo

Kite surfing - another form of madness?

Beach Life

A week in my dental life

Surfbum v Bugs!

The man with the middle aged smile

Con La Misma Sangre

Jive Bunny's Birthday bash

Near Death Experience #22

El Cotillo, the good, the bad and the unattractive

 Sculptures in the Sand

Near death experience #76

Mirror, Signal, Manoeuvre

Fuerte Musica 2007

Day was Arriving

Cheap Shots

Twilight Sparkle

Life without Pockets

A strange tale of seagoing dogs

El Cotillo Fiesta

Another Fiesta and Oh..let the football begin…



Life as the letter “S”



My every day is crammed full of syllables, diphthongs, trip thongs. I gorge on a glut of grammar, attempting to survive the scrabble that is my life, searching ever searching for that triple word score.

Plucked from the bag shared with my companion letter tiles, I sit on a wooden plinth waiting to be formed into recognisable language, assisting in the construction of that game winning syntax, before making the return journey to bag and being thrust into the box for another day, when my fortune or fate will be brought out to play another word game of life.
 

It is with a more than little guilt that I confess to be a disaffected consonant, without even the shared elitism of vowels at which I, and my fellow number jealously sneak a peek. Now if I was an “A” that very first, the ALPHA letter, or even high up in the rankings as an “E” but I have been manufactured “S” toward the rear end of our alphabet existence, and correspondingly lower class.

Yes, there have even been times, when I wish I had been manufactured with the versatility of being a blank. What fun I could have as player after player utilised my anonymity to their maximum advantage…. literally turning winning words out of my nothingness, the meaningful out of the meaningless.

But…I know my place.



On a brighter up side, we get time off aplenty. And what we get up to when not on game play duty you can only guess at. And you would guess incorrectly. We could be plotting the downfall of dictionaries…. against legion library of lexicons or alternatively the salvation of serendipity.

So, my fellow pieces, as we click clack or slide across our cardboard playing field guided amongst the coloured squares in pursuit of language victory, spare a thought for those whom would guide us. …and the existence they have been created for. We worship the god of words whomsoever he, or she may be…they are mere humans.

Scrabble anyone?


Surf Bum
Donald Innes is a writer and photographer, see more of his pictures on
http://donaldinnesross-aplaceforinnes.blogspot.com If you are interested in buying any of his pictures just call him on 662 529580