Dear Darryl [brother]

Do you remember the old Hale School chapel song about not building your house on the sandy lands? Here it is, in case you don't remember:

"Don't build your house on the sandy lands; Don't build it too near the shore.
Well it might look kind of nice, but you'll have to build it twice.
Oh you'll have to build your house once more.

"You'd better build your house upon a rock; Make a good foundation on a solid spot.
Oh, the storms may come and go, but the peace of God you will know."

Quite a catchy tune, I'm sure you agree, though not as catchy as the one that started "He may be short, fat, red-haired and freckle-faced...", which I used to say was about Nick John. That bizarre thing about THAT song, looking back, is that it was about tolerance, but it's very words imply that being red-haired, for example, is something that must be TOLERATED. It treats gingerness as an undesirable trait, but one that some poor souls are afflicted with, and asks that we try to find it within our hearts to treat them as equals, however difficult that may be. Quite rightly too, I might add. Bloody rangers.

But back to the point, which is that I built my four man tent on the sandy lands on the bank of the Dunham River; right on the bank, and in coarse, loose quartz sand. And yes, in keeping with the song, it does look kind of nice. Perhaps I will have to build it twice after a storm; perhaps God will choose to destroy my dwelling in a fit of tempest. I will cross that biblical bridge when I come to it, and in the mean time I will not be moving my tent to a rock. I'm certain that God wouldn't wish a bad night's sleep on a loyal subject after said subject had toiled hard all day and not engaged in any devil's activities, besides pooing down old drillholes, bathing naked without shame, taking nips of Stone's Green Ginger Wine, clubbing pesky bugs to death with an empty bootleg cane spirit bottle, and coveting thy neighbour's Sunrise fruitbox.

No, He is a happy god, because I am in His country, not just passing through it or admiring it from afar, but living in it, breathing in it, eating in it, pissing and shitting in it, fishing in it, bathing in it, exploring, feeling and loving it, and immortalising it in words for my brethren. He is a satisfied god, because He knows that wherever I look, from the river valleys to the sandstone peaks, from the scorpions to the crocodiles, and from the light to the dark, I see Him, or at least something like Him...