The Baron of Boring

Today I am going on a mystery bus tour to a destination that remains, well, a mystery. I have no great aversion to being on a bus, and none at all to my fellow travellers whom are all good people. What I have is an aversion to the unknown. I like to know where I am going. I like to plan and I have no great tolerance for adventure. That makes me I think as boring as a room in Hamilton full of South Africans talking soccer. But that is the way I am; everyman’s John Key, Canada and Hillary Clinton wrapped up in one—the Baron of boring. But it takes people like me to make people like you look exciting. It’s relative. I am sure that with your thirst and passion you feel you live exciting lives. I am sure you have just sprung out of bed and cannot wait to push on into the new day mining it for every gem of adventure and sensation that you think with confidence it will undoubtedly contain. And at the end of the day when you have exhausted it and yourself you will no doubt be replete with stimulating memories and rather than climaxing there you will turn your mind to the next day and be full of eager anticipation. I admire that. I envy that. And if it didn’t make you sound so much like a born-again Christian I might even like that. But anticipation, eager or otherwise, tends to bypass Helensville on a cold Fryday morning. In fact I may just well have seen it go past on a bus. Just not my bus. I think I will go back to bed. Enjoy your day; Kevin have a great birthday.

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