bedEvery weekend for about six months I used to have an overwhelming experience in bed. Now I have got your attention, because no, It wasn’t what most overwhelming bed experiences entailed, namely sex. This was quite different. It would begin with an anxious tip toe dash to the front gate to pick up a large object rolled up in cling wrap. This large cylindrical object was then incised with various sharp objects to get it open, spread out the contents and then try to lay them flat. This required energy and strength,¬† because the contents had been coerced to stay in a rolled up state. Yes, it was the weekend newspaper that I am talking about.

Finally it is open on the bed. Coffee on the bedside table, glasses perched on nose and cat looking alarmed by this invasion of the ghost of many pine trees. I separate the contents. The bed is covered. I look for the bits I like to read. Cars and driving? no, the beep beep Barina will have to last till I die. Finance? hell no, don’t have any to worry about… Sport? Vomit and spew. House sales? that was a past life. Jobs? here on the mid north coast in a recession? you have to be kidding. Now what is left. The real news, the crap news, the literary and arts section, travel, the telly guide and yes, the weekend lifestyle magazine.

I pile all of the bits I don’t read into a pile. It is far bigger than the pile I do read. Then the thought strikes me like a lightening bolt. Why doesn’t the newsaper just deliver the bits that you do like to read. Think of the trees and ink saved, the lessening of transport costs. Ah, but reality sets in. It would be a logistical nightmare for an editor to provide¬† this service for people like me in a dreamed of utopian world.

I settle down with my coffee to catch up on the world news. The essay is great – thought provoking and well researched. Several hours later I emerged replete from savouring the written word. But hell, where has my weekend gone? Lost under a pile of newsprint broadsheet tyranny. This has to stop. Time to enter the real world.The recycling bin is choking on unwanted newsprint.

I have re-entered the real world. Saturday morning I go to the gym, then buy a sublime skinny latte at my favourite cafe and read their newspaper. I choose the bits I like, and settle down for a good read. Heaven.

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