Which - oddly enough, upon a health blogsite - I'm recording today upon the 33rd blogpost thereon, on the 393rd day since beginning this particular blogsite...
...upon my 700th blogpost altogether (across my now *7/8 blogsites all up)...
*One of these - http://alwayslookonthebrightsideoflife-wedon'tknowhowluckyweare.blogspot.com/ - still being 'in utero' as it were, there in cyberspace but as yet only in outline form, without any posts thereupon...
...though now I come to think of it, perhaps that's the title of said blogsite, the actual address being http://goodygoody-daggdrops.blogspot.com/ (and/or .co/nz/)...
Now we're all confused...
...upon my 700th blogpost altogether (across my now *7/8 blogsites all up)...
*One of these - http://alwayslookonthebrightsideoflife-wedon'tknowhowluckyweare.blogspot.com/ - still being 'in utero' as it were, there in cyberspace but as yet only in outline form, without any posts thereupon...
...though now I come to think of it, perhaps that's the title of said blogsite, the actual address being http://goodygoody-daggdrops.blogspot.com/ (and/or .co/nz/)...
Now we're all confused...
Postscript: Incredibly - providentially? hey, you be the judge - one day I stumbled across yet another of the various and sundry Lilliput libraries scattered across the length and breadth of my beloved hometown Dunedin, Aotearoa-New Zealand - as I sauntered up Pine Hill Road, just off the main road north (where that particular Saturday morning I'd failed to get a hitch to neighboring Oamaru), and discovered...
something truly incredible..."unreal" (as an old former Aussie acquaintance - now residing in Covid-Central, OZ, i.e. Melbourne - might well have expressed matters):
a (children's Christmas) book entitled My Special Christmas Adventure. Wherein - upon page one itself, in point of fact, tucked amidst the Christmassy tale of mistletoe and anticipated merriment
were the following words:
It was time for bed, but Beryn Abbott sat wondering when Santa Claus would visit her at
33 Durham Street, Dunedin...
Hey, that just so happens to be the very place where, upon aforementioned 'fateful' day of November 4th, 1982, I surrendered my life to Jesus Christ...
...and 'as they say', nothing has ever been the same again...
Post-postscript: And in case you're still perplexed about why I'd make reference to such a thing, I cannot ever recall previously reading *any book set in Dunedin - or anywhere else for that matter - wherein a specific address is cited.
*Except perhaps two (one featuring multitudes of former Dunedin churches, authored by Charlie Croot, my former teacher and student newspaper 'Mercury' 'overseer', another detailing where older buildings (churches, orphanages, shops etcetera) were formerly situated across the suburb of Mornington).
Though in these two rarest of instances there were such an abundance of addresses cited (I'm supposing here that specific street addresses were indeed cited, something I'm not altogether sure about, but accepting anyhow 'for argument's sake) that one could well ask: so what would that prove anyhow?
No, the exact, precise, one and only place that this lowly pleb gave his heart and life to Jesus Christ was cited...
...and that's more than good enough for me, let alone Bobby McGee...
