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Sport 32: Summer 2004
My Flatmate
My Flatmate
My flatmate is an artist.
He says that making art
is all about preparation and focus,
so that you're always ready
for whenever inspiration
strikes.
He reckons it's a lot like
watching test cricket
—all too easy to be looking
the wrong way at the
crucial delivery. Apparently,
just tuning into the highlights
is no substitute
for watching every ball.
I like listening to him
because he's got a degree
in physics or phys ed
or something.
He's what some people call
a ‘PhD postie’, and he's full
of really out-of-it theories.
For example:
he always eats breakfast
before going to bed
in order to
save time in the mornings.
And he believes that mail delivery
is like an enormous work in progress
that he and other posties
the world over
are trying to perfect.
He says just crossing our road
can be quite a performance.
‘But how do you know,’ I say,
‘that what you end up with
is art?’ He says it's difficult
to explain to people who aren't
artists themselves, but that
it's like being in love—you just know.
‘Oh,’ I say, because I don't.
So he agrees to show me.
We begin with cornflakes.