: George Manus
: 217 Reflections - reflections on big and small
: Books on Demand
: 9788743021018
: 1
: CHF 15.90
:
: Philosophie
: English
: 636
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Throughout his life, George Manus has reflected on big and small, which has already resulted in 19 books. He claims that while things are happening, we only get to think in the present. It is only afterwards that we have time and opportunity to think analogize and consider. The importance the author attaches to the idea of reflection is in other words afterthoughts. In this, his twentieth book, George Manus has picked out thoughts from"Reflections" I - II and III, as well as"Thoughts". Thoughts were written, one every day, on the first 51 days of 2001, while the Reflections spread as far back as 1989.

George Manus was born in England 14.05.39. His mother was Ida Nikoline Lindebrække from Norway and his English father George Bernardes. His parents divorced and George grew up, after the Second World War, as the stepson of war hero Max Manus in Norway. He got the name Manus but was never adopted. All his professional life he was engaged in the Max Manus companies and leader of same for about 40 years. Throughout his adult life, he has thought about EVERYTHING, making notes along the way, as a basis for the books he knew he would write upon retirement. George Manus has fulfilled his dreams and as of today has written several books. In his authorship one can sense the cosmopolitan, which isn't random. He has experienced a lot, lived abroad and for the last fifteen years been firmly ensconced in the South of Spain.

Senility


August 1994

I’ve always made an issue of senility or rather, pre-senility. I find it somewhat exciting let’s say, to pretend that one forgets a bit more than one does - that one is slightly more stupid than one really is.

I may be on my own in this situation, but I don’t think so.

We are probably quite a few who recognize ourselves, but why is it like this?

The truth will out. Is it because we’re trying to hide the fact that a budding pre-senility is on its way?

The terminology is probably incorrect, but we understand one another, don’t we?

Fifty-five, no great age, but anyway, constant small reminders that things are not the way they used to be.

I’ve been busy putting things in order, for as I say, suddenly it’s too late -

I feel a responsibility for those who follow.

A definite breakthrough today, when a thorough house-cleaning was to be done - planned earlier in the week - beautiful sunshine, of course. It is Saturday, the golf has been set aside, but since it had been planned that the day was to be used for housework, the whole thing was filled with pleasure.

Friends coming to visit early next week makes a visit to the off-licence necessary. Postpone the departure until about one, to complete more of what I must do.

Before I set off on foot to the Briskeby off-licence, just a few minutes away from my home in Skovveien, I go around the corner and turn right into Meltzers gate, to assure myself that the car, which I’d parked as the last in a row toward the corner of Oscars gate, wasn’t too close to the corner and thus in danger of being towed away. I thought, of course, that I was at a safe distance when I parked there yesterday afternoon, but just to be sure - no problem, a clear margin.

The sun is shining from a cloudless sky - I feel happy and content, despite the housework, it was planned after all.

Walking up Skovveien to Riddervold square, rounding the corner to the left and continue the few hundred meters to the Briskeby off-licence.

Anything wrong with my memory? Far from it - everything is crystal clear - pull queue number 611- now number 594 is being served.

I calculate how many bottles I want. The details are unimportant, but it turned into a few, and when they were presented to me at the cash desk, I asked the assistant to put them into four bags, as I, even though it wasn’t very far, had to carry them home and that I thought a box wasn’t very well suited to this method of transportation.

Outside again in the sunshine, and after five minutes I’ve arrived home safely with my precious drops.

Back to the housework at full speed.

Time to get ready, a party at half past seven. Some talk about who is to drive.

We’re not going far - no problem to pick up the car tomorrow - I’ll drive.

Carrying a beautiful bouquet of flowers, we turn the corner into Meltzers gate, where the car is parked.

Diagonally across the street, look up, no car. Strange, no pa