A Weekly Series of Riffs in 200 words
We are on the Gold Coast for a sleep-over with our favourite people – Number One Son and the ‘Pretend Daughter’ – after a fabulous seven days in Fiji.
Being big fans of capital A Adventure and neither of us finding relaxation a natural state, it was a daunting prospect to set off together to a tiny country that doesn’t boast a huge ‘To do’ list.
But we went with it because it fit the budget and the time-frame and we knew we needed to force ourselves to rest.
I had a few computer withdrawal symptoms, relieved somewhat by my leather-bound journal and the usual stash of pens but, all in all, this relaxation caper is not so hard to deal with.
I snorkelled until my skin was pale and wrinkled and then laid on the massage table to have it soothed and re-plumped. I walked on the beach for hours and sat in the fork of a tree writing poetry.
Tennis, a daytrip to Suva, canoes and kava. Pace was slow, stress was low and, if your budget is tight and time is minimal, it’s an ideal holiday destination.
Way too much food!
- Noticing a lack of pics?…what happens in Fiji stays in Fiji
The Answer to Friday’s Fictionary Dictionary
Lallation is…a speech defect.
A weekly series of riffs in 200 words
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I’m sixty-four?
As my partner and I mark our thirty-first wedding anniversary, I’m reminded of the 1966 Beatles Classic, purportedly written by Paul McCartney when he was just sixteen.
- Young Paul McCartney
We’re nowhere near sixty-four yet but wedding anniversaries – like birthdays – are another way of reminding ourselves that Old Father Time continues his steady march (which is why I usually prefer to ignore such occasions).
The reason for mentioning it now is that, if you are reading these 200 words, it’s because I’ve escaped from my seven-day diet of snorkelling, beachwalking and reading, to find a computer, click on the draft button and press ‘publish’. And that will be the full extent of my computer interaction, as I lap us some much needed R&R in Fiji.
I could be facetious and say it’s typical of a man to worry about who would feed him when he’s sixty-four (you’d think he might have learnt how to feed himself) but I would never stoop so low as to have such a crack, would I?
Now excuse me: I’ sure I have a husband, a tray of fresh fruit and a masseuse waiting. Bula!
The answer to Friday’s Fictionary Dictionary
Kobold is…a mischievous household sprite