‘I’m bored.’
If you’re a parent, you’ve
heard those words a few times.
‘Name ten things that
aren’t boring.’ Ditto.
‘You could go for a
swim.’ There are thirty or more kilometres
of sand on the Venus Bay beach. The water temperature is fine in summer. One time
my heart nearly stopped when a fin went past, but it was a seal, and it surfed
a wave or two with me, then took off.
A penguin popped up one time too.
Crabs are plentiful, along with the odd bit of a seaweed. A nipper got my toe the other day, but he was
there first. A wave carried me away.
‘Boring.’
‘You could take the
dog for a walk up the lookout.’ Anderson’s
Inlet stretches away in front of the lookout.
Kangaroos are always visible. The
rule is, ‘A kiss for the first person to see a kangaroo.’ Somebody always scores a kiss within thirty seconds,
although they can be tricky to spot.
Their brown fur camouflages them against the flood plain the Tarwin
River runs through. The dog likes to run
through puddles on the way.
‘Boring.’
‘How about a game of
shuttle-cock?’ There’s no breeze today. It’s the calm before the storm. The grass out back is soft underfoot. Perfect conditions for shuttle-cock, although
we’re not allowed to damage the two flowering gums struggling for life by the
back fence. If ever they take off and
flower, the kangaroo paws will breathe a sigh of relief. The wattyl birds sit on the flower stems and
poke their beaks in the flowers. The
stems move from side to side with the weight.
‘Boring.’
‘Why don’t you go for
a ride?’ We’ve a few old bikes in the
garage, picked up over the years. The
roads are unsurfaced, although every so often we get asked by the council if we
would vote, and pay, for road surfacing.
We like the country feel of the gravel roads, although they get a bit
dusty in summer. It’s a small price to
pay. Last year Maddie and I rode through
the reserve to the beach and then along the sand. The sand was soft and we had to push from
time to time.
‘Boring.’
‘Would you like to
play a game of cards?’ There’s a full
arsenal of games and card decks at the house.
I’m leading Shelley two-nil this weekend in Spite and Malice, a rare
occurrence. We can play Uno, Spit, Fish,
even Twenty-One with the gambling chips my mother-in-law bought for us. Some days, back when my father-in-law was
alive, we’d start playing Canasta after breakfast, stop for lunch, and get back
into it as soon as the dishes were cleared.
‘Are you heavy, love?’ he’d ask, before finishing the hand. It won’t be long before both girls are ready
to play Canasta.
‘Boring. And you cheat.’ How would a ten year old know?
‘Read a book.’ We had friends come to stay last
weekend. They forgot to bring books, but
we have a few on the bookshelf. They
came with the first house, purchased seventeen years ago. That house is gone now, knocked down seven
years ago when we realised it was too small for four people, let alone having
friends stay. We built a modern house
with a dishwasher. The kids don’t have
to wash the dishes. We can laze around
and read books, and often do.
‘Boring.’ Not quite true. She often reads for hours.
‘Do you want to play
tennis?’ We’re members of the Tarwin
Lower tennis club, about ten kilometres away.
We can be on the courts in ten minutes, and sometimes we’re there every
day. The dog comes with us and gets tied
to the net post, and watches the balls go back and forth. The four of us can play a decent game of
doubles now, and it won’t be long before they’re taking Shelley and me on, and
beating us.
‘Boring. Why can’t I play on my 3DS?’
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