Dear Diary, Niece is running around, Karen and Jake are sitting around, and I am packing my bag for a few days away; away from this circus.
I telephoned my old school friend, Anne, and arranged to catch the coach. She promised to meet me at the coach station; now to ensure I pack enough clothes, this being a rather unpredictable time of year. I will not be taking my bikini! Oh, I must remember to pack my sneakers for a walk along the sand, and a sun hat, as there are still U.V. alerts for the middle of the day.
At this moment I hear the makings of an argument in the living room. Karen is objecting loudly about Niece organising the wedding. Karen and Jake obviously had not reckoned on the natural behaviour of a mother when the word wedding is mentioned. I wonder if Karen would like a little advice? I would not dare to suggest to Niece she back down, but if Karen and Jake postponed the thought of an immediate wedding, this household might enter a period of calm. Weddings should be a time of celebration, a time for families to rejoice and welcome a new member to their ranks. It does appear, too often, that the exact opposite is the case.
Dear Diary, my case is now packed; I am ready to flit. The taxi is called, my journey about to begin.
"Bye Niece, Bye Karen," I call, ignoring Niece's loud protests about the taxi. She could have taken me, she said. I knew that, but there are some times a generous offer is best refused.
Later
Dear Diary, I had an interesting trip, being so lucky to sit next to a woman near my own age, who had lead the most fascinating life. I often find that meeting a stranger on public transport nearly always enlightens the traveller.
This lady, and by my observation she was a true lady' dressed in black looked sombre and severe, though a second glance that showed a raspberry red chiffon scarf carelessly slung over her shoulder, and a matching brooch in her jacket lapel gave a clue that maybe all was not that appeared. We seated, and cautiously murmured a good day. A few kilometres down the road we relaxed and engaged in casual conversation. One can only speak of the weather for a brief period ... I was brought up with the belief that one did not discuss politics or religion with a stranger. Over the decades of my life I discovered one did not discuss politics or religion with anyone.
The coach rolled along, the movie was boring; some historical film about ancient royalty engaged in complicated manoeuvring that we both lost interest. The lady, who introduced herself as Naomi, mentioned she had not long come back from spending some time with American Indians, where she had learned about their history [as is not taught in schools], participated in tribal ceremonies, and came home enriched with the knowledge gained by living another culture. I was fascinated. The journey was all too soon over. Strange, Dear Diary, but we never exchanged surnames, or an address. We were but ships passing in the night.
As the coach drew into Beachtown station I noticed Anne stretching her neck to peer into the coach. I picked her instantly; she is very tall and as thin as a beanpole, and still wore bright colours. It is with pleasure I look to these few days in her company.
I telephoned my old school friend, Anne, and arranged to catch the coach. She promised to meet me at the coach station; now to ensure I pack enough clothes, this being a rather unpredictable time of year. I will not be taking my bikini! Oh, I must remember to pack my sneakers for a walk along the sand, and a sun hat, as there are still U.V. alerts for the middle of the day.
At this moment I hear the makings of an argument in the living room. Karen is objecting loudly about Niece organising the wedding. Karen and Jake obviously had not reckoned on the natural behaviour of a mother when the word wedding is mentioned. I wonder if Karen would like a little advice? I would not dare to suggest to Niece she back down, but if Karen and Jake postponed the thought of an immediate wedding, this household might enter a period of calm. Weddings should be a time of celebration, a time for families to rejoice and welcome a new member to their ranks. It does appear, too often, that the exact opposite is the case.
Dear Diary, my case is now packed; I am ready to flit. The taxi is called, my journey about to begin.
"Bye Niece, Bye Karen," I call, ignoring Niece's loud protests about the taxi. She could have taken me, she said. I knew that, but there are some times a generous offer is best refused.
Later
Dear Diary, I had an interesting trip, being so lucky to sit next to a woman near my own age, who had lead the most fascinating life. I often find that meeting a stranger on public transport nearly always enlightens the traveller.
This lady, and by my observation she was a true lady' dressed in black looked sombre and severe, though a second glance that showed a raspberry red chiffon scarf carelessly slung over her shoulder, and a matching brooch in her jacket lapel gave a clue that maybe all was not that appeared. We seated, and cautiously murmured a good day. A few kilometres down the road we relaxed and engaged in casual conversation. One can only speak of the weather for a brief period ... I was brought up with the belief that one did not discuss politics or religion with a stranger. Over the decades of my life I discovered one did not discuss politics or religion with anyone.
The coach rolled along, the movie was boring; some historical film about ancient royalty engaged in complicated manoeuvring that we both lost interest. The lady, who introduced herself as Naomi, mentioned she had not long come back from spending some time with American Indians, where she had learned about their history [as is not taught in schools], participated in tribal ceremonies, and came home enriched with the knowledge gained by living another culture. I was fascinated. The journey was all too soon over. Strange, Dear Diary, but we never exchanged surnames, or an address. We were but ships passing in the night.
As the coach drew into Beachtown station I noticed Anne stretching her neck to peer into the coach. I picked her instantly; she is very tall and as thin as a beanpole, and still wore bright colours. It is with pleasure I look to these few days in her company.
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