Chapter 245 :My life in Hobart

I begin the day with a run down the bike track and across the Domain. Very few people. Most are willing to greet me, say hello, provided I keep my distance and keep on running. People are probably friendly than normal.

After breakfast we take our dog for a walk. The shops are sparsely populated. Unlike a ghost town. No eerie flimsy ghosts floating around. The buildings are big and solid like the background scenery for a film when all the characters have left the stage.  Now the only remaining characters are a few purposeful shoppers. No lingering or window shopping or loitering or chatting or enjoying themselves.

Today is the day we make a special trip to watch a film. I lie back in my seat and wait for the film to start. The toilet is easy to locate and it is easy to find my way back to my seat. Only my family is watching the film. We are in our home.

Watching the film is perfect. The sound, picture, popcorn and finding the toilet is all perfect.  Not quite perfect. Nobody else has seen the same film. When I eventually meet someone, we will not be able to talk about the latest film.

In the afternoon we have to look after some of our grandkids until their parents finish work. Time for another walk. Our dog leads us down the Cornellian Bay track. Kay loves our dog and every dog we approach. Her love of every dog we near frightens me.

The track is lined by dropping casuarinas and native hop bushes. And the track is littered with seed pods. I ask them to collect seed pods to take home. I challenge them to think of ways to use these seed pods. Think of a way to use them in a work of art or make something with them.

Below the track is the bank of the river. We detour down to one of the beaches. Our dog loves to paddle. Run and skip and waddle. We skip stones, count the number of bounces and laugh at our dog.  

We see some piles of native oyster shells.  We talk about the aboriginal people who lived here in the past. The aboriginal people who encountered illnesses and diseases foreign to them. They must have been terrified of these new diseases.

My grandchildren are not stressed about new diseases or anything else. A few more days of school and then school holidays.  Holidays with no camping or any visits anywhere. Holidays where they are stuck with us. They will have to try and think of ways of keeping us amused. Stopping us from getting bored.  

When we return from our walk the grandkids begin drawing. Bruce draws a monster. He tells me it’s obvious what it is. It’s a T-Rex. He is attracted to our coffee making machine. He doesn’t drink coffee and he wants to use our machine. I come to his aid and say: I’d love a cup of coffee. Do I have to make it myself?

I don’t seem to have anyone to talk to. If it happened, I would have to pretend I had never been on a cruise ship. Cruise ship passengers have become the incarnation of evil. Sailing around the world indulging in hedonistic eating and drinking while giving passage to nasty viruses.

It is true that my last cruise gave me intimate knowledge of the medical quarters. But I did not bring any viruses back to Hobart. My only souvenirs were fridge magnets and key rings.