my radio is younger- and I am older-looking than in this photo
I am in the habit of leaving the radio on at night, enjoying the companionable voices in the peace of the night, enjoying the fact that I can simply listen and not be obliged to respond.
I've forgotten when and where the habit started. Was it in Lüderitz where, wedged in between the Namib Desert and the Atlantic Ocean, I had to listen all night to the howling winds and my flatmate's constant playing of Marianne Faithfull's "As Tears Go By"? Was it on the island of Bougainville to shut out the rumbling noises of the 24-hour mining operation? Was it on Thursday Island to counteract the neverending sound of the surf? Was it in Penang to obliterate the throbbing beats from the next-door night-club? Was it in Saudi Arabia to drown out the "Allāhu Akbar" from the nearby minaret? Or was it in all those places and many others to soothe an overactive and often troubled mind?
Since my return to Australia, I've been going to bed with Phillip every night at 10 past 10. To turn out the light, and to listen passively to conversations which do not challenge or disturb me, and from which, swimming up from the depths of my light sleep, I can learn the occasionally interesting fact which I won't be required to remember in the morning, has been the highlight of my days (and nights).
So it's "Goodnight" from me. And it's "Goodnight" from Phillip.
