"Aaah Prokopchuk! Overlooking the farm, he has (as had the others) a bad respiratory infection, he is spelling at the minute to let his airways recover fully and not be under any pressure....he is knee high in beautiful oats and pasture (from the good rain we have had last month)...He is King of the farm..and enjoying his leisure time and recuperation."
This was written some time ago by Sienna (Pam), from Australia.
The horse named after me has since been sold...No further news.
I hope my namesake did well in any upcoming harness races.
(Actually, I was quite thrilled to have a horse named after me.
All my friends in Toronto, some of whom had streets named after them, were visibly envious).
I wrote into my pen pal, Antonia Zerbisias at the Toronto Star.
She wrote back saying it was a great honour. And it was.
But it seems that like my four-footed namesake--how can the announcer ever pronounce the name right?--I am prone to respiratory infections, likely self-caused by a life style and diet that would shrivel a self-respecting starfish. Heh. Crown of Thorns starfish.
When I am ill, I abandon all positive thinking.
Positive thinking will kill you dead.
Gotta work on the stuff itself, as old Francis Bacon said.
So I am applying negative thinking, having cured myself of positive thinking, which is a salesman's self-con anyway.
I shall soon be dead.
This knowledge will make me fight all the harder. :)