What I could have...

I'm sitting at the edge of the water, admiring other people's boats. I'm thinking I could have a boat. By that I mean I would like to have a boat- obviously it would be terrifically impractical to park, living in paris.

I start to feel increasingly the appeal of living closer to nature. The sound of the water. The birds. It's all so calming.
Alex Taylor, my dear friend who is a wonderful pianist and who runs the orchestra here in Kristiansand, gave up life in London to come here.

Now he works very hard but owns 2 houses and a kajak (Norweigen spelling).

I could do that.

But I can imagine taking it further.

I could find an uninhabited island, 1000 miles from anywhere, and set up a new life there. Away from everything I'm convinced I need.

I would build a wigwam for a house. Or one for me, one for my wife, and a little one for our daughter.
I would cut my own hair, with a sharpened American Express card.

I would harpoon fish with my bow, which my wife would eat raw as she's half Japanese, while I would cook mine thoroughly on a small fire I'd built.
I would use my iPhone exclusively for short games of Angry Birds in between hunting, and once daily access to Norman Lebrecht's blog, just to stay informed on the life I'd left behind.

And my violin? I would play songs around the camp fire, as out of tune as I pleased. They would mostly be requests from my daughter, such as the theme to Peppa Pig and the elephant song from Jungle Book. (I might leave a fish dangling on the end of my bow, just for comedic value, as laughs could be in short supply.)

I would learn patience.

I would learn to be grateful for what we had.

Until then, however, reality calls. I will now go and search for expensively packaged and environmentally horrific hair products, as mine were confiscated by a Frenchman at airport security, and I have a concert to play tonight.