The Richard Burton Diaries by Richard Burton & Chris Williams

Author:Richard Burton & Chris Williams [Burton, Richard & Williams, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯), Non-Fiction, Biography
ISBN: 9780300180107
Google: yBP39oBztlcC
Amazon: 0300180101
Barnesnoble: 0300180101
Goodreads: 13594027
Publisher: Yale University Press
Published: 2012-10-07T23:00:00+00:00

Evening

Sitting on the poop deck with my infinitely beloved wife who has acquired an even greater weight of love. I keep on mentally looking around to make sure she's there. For why this new and massive re-affirmation of adoration and worship and a promise to myself that I shall never be nasty to her ever again? I will tell you for why. For because for about three minutes this afternoon I thought that I was about to be killed instantaneously and at once, without time to re-tell her how much I love her, to apologize for breaking my contract to look after her forever, for letting her down with a bang (hysterical pun intended), and for having no time to tell her the million things yet to be told and for not realizing and demonstrating my full potential as husband, provider, lover and all.

I did not work today which is rapidly becoming the norm for this piece [...] finally and of course inevitably word came that work was over for the day and that it was ‘a wrap’ and so we set off back to the copter and Kupari. I settled in on the port side right behind the pilot while Vessna, the interpreter, sat beside me with Brook on her other side. Ron sat in the rear row with Gianni. And off we went. There was a low cloud ceiling which we went into immediately we'd gained some height and, as so many times before, we threaded our way through the vicious peaks to right and left. Suddenly and without warning we were completely blacked-out though I believe the technical description is ‘whited out’. There was nothing to be seen outside the cabin of the chopper except nothing. A white nothing. On top of this it began to rain torrentially and the windscreen wipers whipped back and fore like insane crickets sharpening their legs. The co-pilot frantically tried to turn himself into a human demister. We flew like this for perhaps half a minute though it seemed like half an hour when there it was! We were going at an angle of about 45 degrees into a peak. The pilot, god bless his marvellous reflexes, flung the copter to the right and there appallingly was another rock face. The co-pilot slapped the pilot on the arm and we pulled away again to the left. I don't know how close we actually were but it seemed to be the length of a rotor-arm and six feet. Whatever the distance it must have been very very close otherwise we wouldn't have seen the two peaks at all. Still we ploughed on with everyone except Gianni and I – and the pilots of course – with their eyes closed tight. Ron I saw curl himself into a ball and cover his head and ears, with his knees on the floor waiting in what they say is the classical position for a plane crash. I stared to the side with hand ready poised to warn the pilot if anything appeared on our side.

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