Dec 8, 2011

Inverted Visitor-Weather Correlation

The Path to the Beach I was expecting rain, protracted rain, for Mum's visit, but it was sun, sun, sun all the way, or at least for most of it, as far as Leg One was concerned.

Legs and liquid were however a theme. Legs, and the liquid that leaks from them.

We spent a couple of days trying to keep her awake, successfully as it turned out, by taking her to markets and feeding her with coffee, and making her ride bicycles.

She brought a child-sized violin. That was enough to keep the dead from their slumber.

We took her to the beach on a nicely sunny day and wandered up with the waves lapping at our feet. We gambolled, if that's the right word, in the surf, but Mother did not join us.

That day we were planning some sort of roast something and while "we" were cooking it the rest of "we" went to the playground for some play.

On the way back, on the bikes, a fateful decision for which I feel somewhat responsible, to take the shortcut home across the Oval (that's Australian for playing field, and it isn't oval), was made.

A chain of events was set in motion from which we could not back-pedal.

Eloise spoke of being tired. I held back to give her a push, and ended up saddled with her. Mum pushed on, unstoppable.

When we came to the "easement" (that's Australian for path) that connected the oval to our street, I observed the bike, prostrate and riderless.

I followed the trail of blood across the street to find dear old Mum sat down with red Mum-juice pulsing from a gashly gash on her shin.

Cutting a long story less long, Casualty: stitches: recalcitrance: bravery: stoicism: logistics. Not necessarily in that order.


Lovely weather though.

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