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is this illusion…you and I can go for a walk wherever you choose and
I challenge you to show me where money grows. It is a man-made
convenience, but we have turned it into God and the almighty banks
into the churches.
Money in itself is a nonentity, a paper mirage. But if you understand
how it functions you realise currency can be artificially created—
MasterCard and Visa are good examples. It no longer needs to be
printed by the Mint. I wish people would realise it is only a tool, to be
used like any other implement, and no more mysterious.
As the two men worked, Harris proposed assorted schemes to make money.
These were discussed, dissected and for one reason or another, discarded
at the end of the workday. Perhaps, like crossword puzzles or Sudoku, they
served to keep the workers’ mental juices flowing.
~~
Ken Kirkby is a particularly fine cook and, having been raised in
Francisco’s kitchen, can turn the simplest ingredients into a dish to be
savoured and praised. As his circle of friends expanded, he resurrected his
long-dormant culinary skills.
Portuguese meals would not be complete without a bottle of fullbodied
red or crisp white on the table. When Ken left Portugal, he had been
selective as to what he took with him, but one of his prized possessions
then and now, is the family wine recipe dating back several centuries. He
continually has a batch on the go although he is a moderate drinker himself.
It was likely a day or so after a well-spiced supper of clams, shrimp and
prawns cooked in Kirkby’s special fish stock prepared from flounder, too
small in themselves to eat. While spreading topsoil for the eventual seeding
of the lawn, Harris says, “You know, Kenny, that’s a damn fine wine you
make. You could probably make a pile of money if you set yourself up to
produce and sell it.”
“Probably,” says Kirkby.
Harris does some mental calculations. “How much do you think you
could make?”
“Money, or wine?” Kirkby quips.
“You’ve got a few racks there—how much do you usually make?”
Manolis Aligizakis 