Radio Odyssey

It’s that time again, that airy hallmark intro, the vibrant soul ensemble. Signpost to an hour long journey where passage, paean and piece come out to play. Odyssey for fantasist and literary scion. Earnest open invite to the madcap mind, mine and those of others. Each and every Sunday I’m religiously transported to exotic beaches known to veteran nomads. Boundlessly I leap across the airwaves only to be stranded in some Middle Eastern plot, the likes of which would put twin peaks to shame. Without a fear I flit medieval back streets like this ghost from other worlds, cobblestone character on wings, melting pots beyond our daily grind, landmarks that I’ve never seen before. Out of body drama for us fervent wishful thinkers. Roles from ancient history now assumed but for an inkling, the icons I become, those rapid twists and turns of me the centre piece. Maybe I’m that innocent abroad, clueless hiker, stony broke, wandering a land whose complex tongue I’ve yet to master or that moth-infested secret of the thirty year rule. With a little latitude I’d silhouette my reverie landing on some poet’s scented flower or just as likely eavesdrop on the mocha sipping Monet, coffee cup aloft, cast among the butterflies, harvesting my thoughts on barren canvass. Going back in time to famous childhoods I’m some regal mother’s one and only joy, a fragile baby cradled by maternal soothing sounds. Imagine for a moment me the swimmer, wallower in oceans Maya blue, driven by the prospect of Olympic medal glory, fuelled by live wire rushes, or the influential orchestrator sculpting drafts so lyrical they lift the Sony user into orbit. But alas this wondrous flight ends far too soon, as that sonic rich arrangement slowly morphs into the haze. Perhaps one day I’ll be the voice that hypnotises souls, filler of a void with vivid wordscapes, teleporting lives to fourth dimensions. There’s always hope