Chapter 284: A nice day for a walk

Today is a nice day for a walk with our grandkids. We look out for dogs. Either fenced up or taking their owner for a walk. We give walking dogs a wide berth. We cross the road to get away from them. There is a reason we avoid other dogs walking their owners.

 

The reason we are avoiding all these nasty badly behaved dogs is because we are taking our dog for a walk. The other dogs all bark annoyingly. Our dog has a friendly bark. The dogs we encounter all pollute randomly and often. Our dog eats, breathes and functions like a normal well adjusted natural animal. The other dogs randomly jump and run helter skelter playing joyous and gloriously drunk. Our dog playfully exercises.

 

We walk further down our road. Every house and garden is different. Every fence is different. The solid brick fences tempt and tease my grandkids. They say: Please walk upon me. My grandkids obey. They jump up and walk upon the fence.

 

In the bushes I spy a spider.

Grandfather: That’s the second spider I’ve seen today.

Bruce: That’s the first second spider I’ve seen today.

 

We arrive at Cornelian Bay at the right time. Lunch time. Lunch includes coffee for us old people and chips for the younger ones.

 

Speaking as one of the older people I am happy with my coffee. Looking at the speed the chips disappear the younger people are equally happy.

 

Kay: You know when it’s the end of chips. I don’t want it to happen because it’s so yummy and then it happens.

Kay: Could I have more to eat?

Grandmother: You lost your appetite and gained an elephant’s.

Kay: Yes I could eat an elephant.

Grandfather: So you had potato last night. And you want potato again for lunch.

Kay: Not potato. I want chips.

Grandfather: What are chips made from?

Kay: Potato.

Bruce: Why do we eat lunch were all the seagulls are?

Grandfather: Maybe the seagulls followed us. Followed our food.

Bruce: They are birds.

 

Our dog is on a lead. He barks at the seagulls. He strains his leash. He jumps and barks raucously driving the seagulls away.  

 

Our dog makes so much noise all Hobart is aware of him. A man and dog approach our dog. The man bends down and pats our dog. He rubs the stomach of our dog. Our dog immediately quietens and calms. The two dogs cuddle and nuzzle each other. The two dogs embrace, hug and lie together. They become best friends for ever.

 

The dog whisperer stands and looks around. Happy and proud of the dogs. It is time for us humans to come together and be as united as our dogs.

 

Grandfather says to the dog whisperer: Can I get you a cup of coffee?

Chapter 283: Faster Higher Longer

 

A mass gathers on the athletic track. Stretching their legs, jogging and talking.

I hear talk about past injuries, training and the weather.

“How are your knees; hamstrings; hips?”

“How far did you run this week?”

The starter’s gun unleashes a centipede of runners. Legs pumping up and down. The running beast moves quietly around the track.  As it nears me, I hear breathing and feet slapping the artificial surface.

The running peloton contains shorts and shirts of different colours, shapes and sizes. Everybody looks and runs differently. Everybody is doing the same thing differently. Everybody has a unique style. Everybody has a unique reason for running. A reason to run around a track as fast as possible. Everybody aims for their best.

And everybody has a method of motivation. I must catch that guy in front of me.  I must prevent the guy behind me passing me. They said I couldn’t do this.  I’ll show them.  The time on the clock tells me to push my legs faster, make bigger strides, breathe deeper, relax my mind.

I must keep that string connecting me to the guy in front of me taut. I must keep that string tight. Not let it grow longer. This is the lap I must push myself.  

The runners become muscles acting instinctually and naturally. Legs contracting rhythmically resembling a gazelle or horse or tiger.  The runners don’t think about where to put their next step. They concentrate on acting instinctively. They concentrate on thinking about running. Not thinking of other things. Just running.

In the final straight the arms take over. They pump harder and faster. They swing bigger and bigger and power the runner across the finish line.

After running the runners lean on their knees and talk.

“I’ve got to get under 20 minutes.”  

“What are you training for?”

“What have you got coming up?”

The throwers are loosely gathered on the field. An official with her notebook says a name and a thrower takes centre stage. The thrower smoothly and gracefully spins and turns and unleashes the flying discuss through the air to land and bounce. Eyes watch and mark its divot in the grass.

Another name is called and this time brute force and power propel the discus spinning towards getting measured.   

“That was 25.67m.”

“I’m aiming for 26 m. I’ve gotta get it over 26m.”

All the throwers look younger than their passport age. They all look very fit and healthy. Not just physically healthy. They all behave mentally and socially healthy. They behave well. They are kind and considerate. They take turns and don’t cheat. They help others. They always say the right things at the right time.

They all have the confidence to find out more about themselves. By taking a risk. They all push themselves. They all aim to learn more about themselves by throwing further.

Next week I pick up the javelin.

One young guy looks like he is playing a different sport. He runs and runs and runs and launches the javelin into the stratosphere. It smoothly dives and neatly digs into the grass. Perfect.

He is proving that everybody has a different physical body, experience, technique, mental attitude and medical history. He has just proved that he belongs with us because he is different. All of us throwers are different but we are all aiming for the same thing. A good throw. Maybe even a PB.

I don’t’ receive a PB. I receive a PL. I receive a Personal Learning experience. I need to work out how I could have done better. How do I prepare for next time? How should I train? If I can work out what I should have done today I will have learnt something about throwing the javelin and myself.

 

 

Chapter 282: Are we there yet?

Grandmother says: Before you get in the car go to the toilet.

In the car the grandkids are told to sit quietly. Don’t move squirm or fiddle. Be passive. Watch the passing world. Look without comment. Don’t annoy us. Sit still.

I adjust the aircon; adjust the radio; adjust my seat. It’s warm in the car. I take my jumper off.  I lean back and watch the road sweep up between the rolling hills. Kay says: I need the toilet.

The next town appears and our car slides to a stop. We all fall out of the warm car. We wander around hoping to stumble upon a public toilet.

Kay: I’m cold.

We return to the car for her jumper.

Bruce runs non-stop. Attacking every badie he sees on the path ahead. He runs, twists and spins around poles.  He swings a sword.

Back in the car:

Kay: How much longer?

Grandfather: Now everybody together. Can you all say. How much longer? All say it together.

Grandkids: How much longer?

Grandfather: That’s good. This time sing it. How much longer? Are we there yet?

The grandkids sing together.

Grandfather: Very good. Bit soft though. Next time louder with actions. Put your head on your hands and raise your eyebrows. Now all together.  

Grandfather:  Now we have the chorus. How much longer? Are we there yet? We need a verse.  What else can we say?

I see many confused faces.

Grandfather: We need a verse about sitting in the car. We need a verse about where we are at the moment. About the road curving past sheep and cows. We need a verse about what is happening now. About what you are thinking?

Grandfather: What words? How would this verse go? What are you thinking?

They all look confused and unsure of what to say. No sound from their mouths so I have to read their minds.

Their minds say: Now we have to say a verse to make grandfather happy. Another thing to keep grandfather happy. Grandfather sure needs a lot of looking after.

Grandmother’s mind says: You’re more annoying than the kids.

Kay: I’m thirsty.

Bruce: How much longer?

Chapter 281: We look and see wonderful sights. Where did they come from?

Tasmania is an island with many acres of enticing and alluring native bush. Attracting people from around the world.

Because of Covid there are no tourists coming to Tasmania.

However the government has a plan.

The government says: The people involved in the tourism industry are suffering. Let’s help them.

The government says: Holiday locally.  Visit the places everybody else travels miles and hours to see.

I say: Its school holidays. I can’t leave the state.  The government. My government wins the argument.

We find ourselves (three generations) in one of our national parks. Not a wilderness area. Managed native bush.

After unloading our bags we reconnoiter. Surrounding our huts are dark, brooding, drooping trees. They have dark bark. They sway and dangle hanging wet leaves. The trees are mysterious and haunting. The background for the trees is a wandering mist and a blue sky.

 

Grazing wombats, pademelons and wallabies prefer the grassy areas so they can eat it. The animals much, chew graze and wander on. They are quiet. We stand just as quietly and watch them grazing, munching and chewing. Unfortunately they are not frightened, wary or concerned about us tourists. Signs abound saying please don’t feed the animals. Domestic food will habituate them and kill them.

The animals fascinate and mesmerise us and we take multiple photos and say: The tourists would love them.

A black currawong lands on a dark mossy branch. Fully awake and alert. Shiny beak dominates as he curiously looks for his next snack.  An unlucky insect is about to finish its life in the large powerful and impressive beak of a lucky currawong.

 

We encounter others and all agree. We are lucky. It is a wonderland. Beautiful. We all agree we wouldn’t have come here except for this cursed virus.

 

Next morning the virus has changed breakfast. The buffet has been cancelled. My grandkids are not unhappy. They then prove they know a lot more than I did when their age. Unlike the other side of the window they don’t have to look, scratch and fight for their food. All they have to do is speak to the waiter.

Kay: I’ll have pancakes with maple syrup and cream and strawberries.

Me: What about blueberries?

Kay: Yes blue berries around the edge.

My mind wanders to the windows. Outside the bush subsists and survives and continues as it has for eons. Animals and birds are having their breakfast. The bush awaits us.

Chapter 280: Kay is rich

Kay presents me with two things.

A bloody, red lip and blood seeping and oozing from her mouth.

A tooth in her outstretched hand.

I ask her: How is your mouth? Is it sore?

She looks at me bemused. How could I possible think of such things when she is holding a precious tooth.

Okay. That’s where my mind should focus.

Me: Okay I’ll wipe this tooth and then we will wrap it in a tissue for the tooth fairy.

I am really curious about what she thinks of the tooth fairy.

I ask her countless questions about the tooth fairy.

Why does he come at night when you are asleep?

What does he do with all the teeth?

Where does he live?

What does he look like?

How much is a tooth worth?

Kay is exasperated and frustrated with my countless questions. She finally raises her eyebrows and says: Mum is the tooth fairy. We do this. To make mum happy. Tonight I place the tooth under my pillow. Mum takes the tooth and gives me five dollars. I will then have ten dollars. I will be rich.

I am left speechless. Nothing to add. I can’t think of anything to say. Luckily she can.

Kay: And when all these teeth come out I’ll be more rich. I will buy Stephanie and her friends.

 

 

Chapter 279: The perfect breakfast

 Some grandkids have slept over. They wake with speed.

They immediately begin moving randomly. Flexibly, unplanned and spontaneous. Living in the moment.

Unhindered by their clothing. Their pajamas are fluffy, soft, loose, comfortable and unfashionable.

They all decide they need new names.

They float names such as bunbun, bonbon, waffles and snowy butterfly and fluffy.

They decide nobody should be lumbered with the name orieles.

Kay eventually decides she will be called snowflake.

Gertrude grabs snowy butterfly.

Bruce claims bonbon.

Replete with their new names they are ready for breakfast which is just about perfect. Perfection involves having a choice. In front of them are multiple little packets of cereal. They have the fun of choosing the best packet. They all prefer the same packet. Coco pops. But they are happy to shake, tear open and pour a colorful, noisy alternative. 

They lean on the table with her elbows flayed widely. Exactly the way their mothers did 30 years ago. Kay sticks out her tongue and licks her lips. Her mother did that identical same movement thirty years ago.  

And now Gertrude is sucking her spoon after each spoonful. Her mother used to do that. And her mother used to look around the room just like her. Gertrude stands and kicks her leg behind her. I am lost between what is happening now and what happened thirty years ago.

Their mothers always used to choose coco pops. Their kids have taken her place.

It is about now Catherine used to say: I’m so hungry I could eat a horse.

Gertrude doesn’t say anything. Gertrud just picks up her I-phone and says: Mum look at this photo.

Her mum says: Can I see it.

Gertrude: I will email it to you. Did you get it?

Mum looks up from her I-pad: Yes I got it. Good photo. I think I’ll tick like.

Gertrude now takes a photo of snowflake. I’m sure she only did that in order to remind me it’s 2020. Not 1990.