Ahoy, me hearties! Fear not, for yer brave cap'n has returned from whence he disappeared to. Did some of ye hope I'd been lost forever between the flotsam and wreckage of the Scourge, never to be seen again, save on some unholy downward trek to Davy Jones's very own Locker?

Nay, me lads, 't was not I that was lost, nor my ship or crew. 't Was time itself that I did lose, and it did flee before me, not in terror, but in mockery of my crawling pursuit.

Nah. I did refrain from spending time online this weekend, mostly because I was otherwise engaged, but also because I felt I needed some time away from the computer's screen.

As I've got several topics to touch upon, I'm putting this in the Various category once again.

Most of my weekend was taken up with Scouting activities, as I touched upon in previous entries. On Saturday, we spent most of our time emptying our respective buildings and hauling the stuff to and fro.

The amazing thing about removing all of your stuff from a room, is that you find various items you thought were lost, and some discoveries that are less appetizing. Coming across a bottle of orange juice that has been previously opened, closed anew and left outside of the refrigerator (for lack of one, actually) can be quite fascinating for one interested in microbiology, but I for one was more looking to dispose of it as soon as possible.

I borrowed my father's small van, and was pleased to find more fit into the back than expected. A friend of mine used his dad's trailer, so we only had to make one trip to move each troop's belongings.

We did have to move some additional things owned by the girl guide troop, but fortunately our new building and the girl guides' are on the same grounds, so moving did not involve a lot of work. (Note that by 'building', I refer to single-storeyed buildings with only one or two rooms. Some or little more than cots or cottages - a girl from another youth movement even thought one of our buildings was, and I quote, "some kind of shed or barn.")

I was also pleasantly surprised by the capacity of the small storage room in the new building, as we were able to fit more into it than the previous owners had. Not surprising if you know that they mostly put empty boxes in there anyway, which is a major waste of space.

The only minor note was the absence of this year's Brownie leaders - given, I was the only one from my own Rascal troop, but on an occasion such as this, the attendance of at least one leader is required. After all, the people moving all of the stuff need to know what belongs to your troop, what doesn't, and what goes where in the new building. Two of the future leaders were there, but that was the extent of it. I know most of the former and current ones have studies, work and sports to attend to, but still, leaving things to someone who hasn't even moved on to leadership status and doesn't know anything about anything is quite inconsiderate. Any complaints afterwards by them will be quickly dealt with.

As our second-year Rascals are moving on to the next troop (our new amalgam of Brownies and Cubs) next week, we had a last gathering on Sunday to enjoy the last moments of play together. For the occasion, they were at liberty to choose the games played. Luckily enough, the day was sunny enough for us to play in the park.

I stuck around afterwards, enjoying the company of other leaders, a pizza ordered from one of the local kebab snack bars, and several beers to wash it down. (Rest assured, we only drink after the kids have gone home - we're not completely without consideration.)

For the past four days, I've also been reading Robin Hobb's Shaman's Crossing, the first book of the Soldier Son trilogy, and the only one currently published, at least, to the extent of my knowledge.

I've read Hobb's other three trilogies, and have not just been impressed, but actually astounded by her talent. She's one of the few true story-tellers, who can enrapture a reader not just by the story they tell, but by the way they tell it. The depth of her characters and overall story is amazingly, and adds such a clarity that it's as if one were watching a series of paintings come to life before one's eyes, rather than 'reading a book'. You do not read Robin Hobb's novels. You live them.

Given the above, it's no wonder I was able to read all 631 pages in just four days. Given, it's a pocket edition paperback, so the pages aren't that large, but the font size is small enough to ensure me that even the hardback edition has an equal amount of pages. Still, you may not be impressed by my speed, as four days is plenty to read at a leisurely pace, but take in mind that I went to work both on Friday and today, and that I spent most of my time during the weekend away from home, busy with other activities. Suffice to say I devoured the book rather than read it. A novel by Hobb is one you dive into, and it is difficult to pull yourself out again, clambering up the steep banks of real life.

What sets the Soldier Son books apart from her previous trilogies, is that they take place in another, new world she has thought up for this particular tale. It reminds one more of the early days of the Frontier, when men were just discovering the lands that lay beyond the East Coast of the Americas. Take away the magical aspects, and you would have a historic novel rather than a fantasy tale.

Still, it is told with the words and phrases of a true Master, and Hobb has proven herself as such in the past. Shaman's Crossing lives up to the standards of her other stories. And although this first installment ends on a positive note, I know her work well enough to know that more ill will befall the young protagonist, Nevare Burvelle, in the rest of the tale. What he will lose and what he will gain is uncertain - quite frankly, that is why I am hungry for the next book already - but even if he stands to lose all that he has and more, I know that with Robin Hobb telling the tale, it will be an adventure beyond comparison.

With that, I leave you, for in the morrow more work awaits me.