Boxing Day

The Queen of Night is busy making her own incense sticks on the floor of her bedroom.  It's eleven o'clock and she should be trying to get to sleep, but since she is genetically incapable of directly following a given suggestion she's doing this instead.  She's happy, even though she's forgotten two things. Firstly, she really should have spread some newspaper on the carpet, and second, she nearly died today.

'Twas the day after Christmas,
we left the tree's lights-on,
packed up our towels,
and drove out to Bright-on...

:)

We got in the car at one-twentyseven, in a bit of a hurry, forgetting the boogie boards and the sunscreen, because we had arranged to meet Nana there at one-thirty.  It's always good to be on time for Nana because she grumbles if she is made to wait for anybody.
Nana was also bringing the Queen's togs because they had been left at her house Christmas day when we thought it might be hot enough for swimming.
"Can I text Nana and remind her about my togs?" said the Queen, eager for a chance to use her new cellphone.
"Already have," said Mum.
"Oh..." said the Queen. "...ok.  Thanks".
And so we drove, not hurrying but I had my eye on the clock.  We pulled up in the carpark at Brighton Beach at one-fortyseven. I made sure to park right up near the surf club, right beside the path to the beach so that Nana wouldn't have to wait for us any longer than was absolutely necessary.  As I pulled on the handbrake Mum's phone buzzed in her purse.
"Mum says - running late - just having lunch now so maybe three quarters hour - no schedule today" she read out.
"That's not fair!" cried the Queen "Now He'll be able to swim and I won't be."
I looked over at The Slug*, who had wrapped himself in two towels and was trying to manoeuvre his way into his togs without letting anyone see anything.
"It'll be ok.  Nana won't be that long.  You can still paddle and we'll be here a while." One of us said.

So we trudged down the path to the beach, our feet sinking in the dry sand which made for hard going.  I wished I'd remembered a book, and started to wonder if I should have worn shorts.  The tide was low and the rocks, usually a long way out, seemed scarily close. Still, there were people in the water.  The Slug dropped his towel and ran down to the water.  The Queen stood and looked at her mother and me, her hands on her hips.
"Nana won't be long."  we said.  "Go see what the water's like."
The Slug was already running back as the Queen headed down to meet the surf.
"Too coooold!" he said, and proceeded to curl himself up in a ball on the sand and cover himself completely with a towel - to avoid sunburn.  He would stay that way for most of the visit - until we lured him out with the promise of ice-cream.

After a while of lying on the sand enjoying the warmth of the sun, The Slug comfortably wrapped up in his towel, The Queen busy dancing the waves, as deep as she could possibly be without getting the short shorts she got for Christmas wet, I decided to explore the rocks.
The rocks at Dunedin's Brighton Beach look like the rotten, worm eaten remains of some vast, ancient tree. But they are hard, brittle, and nearly as sharp as glass. My feet, thanks to my North island habit of wandering around barefoot, have soles like leather. So, with my jeans rolled up I wandered down and along the water, took a small leap over a puddle of swirling water and began gingerly making my way around the base of the rock hill on the right hand side of the beach, gripping the hole-ridden surface with my toes. I reached a point where I had a choice of path.  I could follow the low ledge further around the base of the hill or start an easy climb upwards toward the top. The ledge sat roughly level with the incoming water.  If I went that way the waves washing across its surface would pull at my feet and send the thick kelp that lay across it swirling menacingly. 

"Hi Tim." 
I looked, and saw the Queen had materialised at my heel.
"Where are you going"
"Just having a wee explore." I said.  Now I had company I decided on the safer path. "Shall we climb to the top?"
"No." said the Queen, and began making her way around the ledge, the waves washing her feet.
I began making my way up the other path.  I watched the Queen hoping she would see me, and that her own trepidation might make her choose to come join me. When we were just far enough apart that I knew I couldn't do anything to save her if anything happened, I did a silly thing.
I have said that the Queen is genetically almost incapable of following a suggestion. So what I said was sort of calculated, and probably true.  I wanted her to decide herself to walk back my way and join me on the easy climb to the summit.

"The tide's coming in." I calmly said.  "A big wave might sweep you off of there."
She appeared to be ignoring me, then the next moment she turned to the worm-eaten rock wall and began climbing the near vertical face before her.  If she made the full ten feet she would come off on the path ahead of me.  The rough, craggy surface gave her plenty of hand-holds.

I stayed calm.  When I met the Queen and her brother, nearly eight years ago now, they were four and five years old.  They were climbers even then.  At that time they would start in the corner of the kitchen, pulling out the drawers to make a staircase and climb on to the bench.  Then they would walk the length of the bench jumping the kitchen sink and tip-toeing across the stove top, which usually wasn't going, to the windowsill.  Hanging on to the net curtains for support they would make their way along the sill 'til they could reach and open the pantry door.  Then they would scale the pantry shelves and then hook themselves onto the ledge above and crawl along to the end where they would lie grinning at you, eight feet up.  As long as nobody closed the pantry door they could reverse the process and climb down again quite safely.
I quickly learned the trick was to remain calm.  If, at any stage in the process, you were to panic, reach out and cry "Oh My goodness what are you doing?", they would look you in the eye, let go of everything, and fall.  The resultant impact would entail far worse drama than a bit of dust on the knees of their trousers and the inconvenience of the drawers being open.

So today I stayed still and watched the Queen climb. Five feet... Six feet... Seven...

Finally she was near the top.  She reached her hand for the last hand-hold and I began breathing again.  Then, the thin rock broke off in her hand and I closed my eyes on the image of her lurching backward, arms flailing.  I imagined a cracked skull... bright blood swirling in the surf.

Then I heard the beginnings of a thin gentle wailing.  I opened my eyes to see her scrabbling to the safety of the ledge and immediately began making my way towards her saying "Wow! That was a good save.  I thought you were going to die..."
She had given her shin a nasty scrape, blood winked brightly out of a couple of shallow puncture wounds.
"The rock broke off in my hand"  she sobbed.
"I saw." I said. "But gosh you did well. Those rocks are sharp. You must be glad you didn't fall."
I told her the best thing for her graze would be the salt water.  She assured me it would sting.  I helped her back to our base and we showed the injury to Mum.
"You know the best thing for that would be the salt water." said Mum after a consoling hug.
"I can't! It'll sting too bad..." Wailed the queen.  She sat on the sand, hugging her knees, determined not to enjoy the beach any more.  The Slug peeked out from under his towel, checked his forearm for sunburn.
Mum and I looked at each other.  We suggested ice-cream.

After a bit of coaxing we made it to the shop.  The Queen and her brother ran to the tip-top fridge, seeking out the most expensive items.
"Can we...?" they began.
I nodded, sighing, and turned to order a frosty-boy. I always get soft serve at the beach.  The Queen and the slug deposited their mega-magnum-supernut-trumpets on the bench  and then watched as the lady extruded my much cheaper, $2.50 soft-serve.
"Can we get one of those instead?" they both begged.
I sighed, nodding, and they ran back to return their mega-magnum-supernut-trumpets.
"Make that three" I signalled the lady.

After that the beach visit returned to normal.   Nana arrived with the togs, and within twenty minutes the Queen was chest deep in the surf, dancing at the outer edge of the swimmers. The Slug was once again safely curled up under his towel, still happy, but complaining his shoulders had burned in the ten minute walk to the shop.  Eventually, when the Queen was cold enough, and the Slug bored enough,  we trudged our way back to the carpark.

So sated with ice-cream
surf swimming, and foam,
We climbed in the car
and we made our way home.
                                           
The Queen of Night is busy making her own incense sticks on the floor of her bedroom.  It's eleven o'clock and she should be trying to get to sleep.  She's happy, even though she's forgotten two things. Firstly, she really should have spread some newspaper on the carpet, and second, she nearly died today.




*"The Slug" is the Queen's brother. We might meet him in more detail if these bulletins continue.  It's possibly an unfair name considering he can do a back flip from standing (which I can't), and once hit a six for the school cricket team (which I never did).

Mortification

Well anyway, it was nearly eight thirty and time to pick up the Queen of Night from her gym end-of-year thingy. So I lit a smoke, left it by the front door, and in my usual way turned the house upside down looking for my car keys - which were in my pocket.
By the time I got there I was a little bit late and there was the Queen of Night standing in the carpark with a couple of concerned looking adults.  Well, I thought, we still haven't paid the gym fees and they're probably the organisers.  So I got out of the car and sauntered over to thank them for the bill and reassure them that the money would be in next week. As I sauntered over the young queen came tip-toeing toward me in her bare feet, hands over her mouth in an expression of cultivated shame while the two adults looked on.  The woman in particular looked fairly unimpressed.
"Tim..." said the Queen. "I kind of threw the key on the roof and we can't get it down."
"Eh?.." I said, reasonably incredulous.  Incredulity is an expression I often employ in my dealings with the Queen of Night even though I should know by now that nothing should surprise me. I had a vision as she explained what she had been doing with the key. Obviously the organiser had entrusted her with the key, she said she had been throwing it up and down and then one throw had ended up going the wrong way, sending the key onto the roof.  Obviously these poor people were now unable to lock up the venue and leave, and were standing around wondering what to do.

I had a small ladder in the car.   I didn't think it would be tall enough.  We were only two blocks away from my work. There was a bigger ladder there, I knew.  I wasn't quite ready to apologise for my stepdaughter's actions, or maybe I wasn't getting the vibe from the people that an apology was necessary. The woman looked unimpressed certainly, but the man seemed quite philosophical about it and not in any hurry.
"A ladder'd be the thing." He said cheerily.
"There's a big one at my work," I said "it's just around the corner." I waited for him to tell me that would be helpful, and could I go get it.
He looked off into the distance. "That feller who was just down there would've had one too." he said, almost to himself. "Would've been handy."

In the absence of any instruction I went back to the car to fetch my three-stepper out of the boot. It looked like you might almost reach from the top step.
"You won't reach from that." said the Queen.
"It's probably a job for a small person on somebody's shoulders on the top step." said the man helpfully.
That didn't sound very safe to me.  I placed the ladder and climbed up... nowhere near tall enough. I considered the option of showing displeasure - telling the Queen off.  She was skipping from side to side wondering if she was going to get a shoulder-ride. The two adults still appeared largely unconcerned, as if the delay was neither here nor there. I decided to leave displeasure for now and stick with helpful. After all we were holding them up.

"My work is literally two blocks away." I said to the cheery fellow. "I can get you a big extension ladder. It won't fit in the car though; I'll have to run round and carry it back." I waited for him to offer to help me.
"We'll wait." he said, smiling. 
I set off running.  I ran until I got out of sight and then walked.  I am a smoker after all and half a block is plenty, but I felt I should give the impression of enthusiasm.  I still had a heavy ladder to carry back.
By the time I got to the workshop I'd had a better idea. The van was there.  I grabbed a ladder and put it in the back, pressed the button and waited for the roller door to grind its way up, backed the van out and pressed the button again to let the door slowly close again.  Easy.

"Sorry about this," I said as I unfolded the ladder.
"Me go up!" said the Queen, pretending to be half her age again.
"No you won't." said the man.
"So you're the gym organisers?" I asked as I climbed the ladder.  I was still thinking to introduce myself and reassure them about the bill.
"No no." he said. "We just thought we'd better wait to you arrived."

"What does this key look like?" I said once I was on the roof "No, don't worry, there it is."
About a metre onto the flat roof I saw a red key-ring. as I got near I saw the oddest key.  It was small, chunky and made of plastic.  It looked like it had been coloured red with permanent marker. It looked more like the sort of toy key the Queen was fond of collecting.
"It's Mummy's key-ring." She said."

I looked at the man
"I thought it was the key to the gym." I said.
"I thought it was your house key." he replied.
"Oh." I said, handing the key to the Queen.  "Well thanks for waiting with her."

And later in the car I said.
"So how was gym?"

Brain dead... more sport.

Aaaah.. children.

The Queen of Night desired she should be fed.
An apple sat, not far, within her sight,
But when she called the servants were in bed.

"I see an apple near!", she loudly pled.
"Will you come fetch that I might take a bite?
The Queen of Night desires she should be fed!"

The house was still, no sound of step or tread
and no-one came to ease her dreadful plight
For when she called, the servants were in bed.

"Did no-one hear a single word I said?!!
Come feed me now, and then turn off my light!
The Queen of Night desires she should be fed!"

"I'd also like a slice or two of bread!
And crackers.  Four should be alright!"
But when she called, the servants were in bed.

"I s'pose you'll all be happy when I'm dead.
Don't worry then, I won't last through the night."
The Queen of Night desired she should be fed,
But when she called, the servants were in bed.

TFR 12/10