5:10am
Its ten past five on a Monday morning.
On THE Monday morning.
Dimples, meet Freckles.
It seems to have been a long time coming, time that has vanished somehow when my back was turned. I think it got lost somewhere in all the music and conversation and laughter.
There really have been a lot of those.
Oddly enough, the dialogue began with a polite telling off - a kind of, "please behave nicely and set an example for the slower folks" thing.
I'd forgotten that to be honest, I had to be reminded.
What I remembered was a simple email complimenting her on an action which showed a person brave enough to live by actions rather than words, who wasn't afraid of seeing the darker side of herself and seeking to improve and her mistakes as lessons.
I remember the first words I heard her speak directly to me.
"Do you ever want to be completely naked?"
I knew she wasn't talking clothes.
Even then, conversation was always light. Sometimes very deliberately so, done with great reluctance and determination.
And then. Ahhh. La Boheme.
It really wasn't long after that that I had flight confirmations in front of my eyes.
Since then?
Music and conversation and laughter.
And now the day is here.
A weekend spent cleaning and doing the parent thing. And a night without the ability to sleep.
I was kidding myself a little while ago that I was rather calm and Zen about this. My body is telling me differently.
This is a big thing. For many reasons. Some of them have the potential to be the most terrifying leaps into the unknown I can think of. Some because of all those building blocks of the past quivering where they stand.
But it's 5:32am now.
In three hours, I'll be in the car on the way to the airport.
In three and a half, I'll be standing by the arrivals gate on the tarmac, resplendent in gay white scarf and all.
Dimples, meet Freckles. Freckles, Dimples.
Good luck you two.
The Queen Of Chickenfeed And Other Stories
Dimples, Meet Freckles
It was Monday morning, 10.15am. I hadn't left myself time for nerves. I'd spent the previous night cleaning and tidying the flat from stem to stern. A much overdue task with all the things that had been going on of late, but the combination of the impending visitor and a house inspection by my landlord at the end of this month proved adequate motivation. By the time I'd fed Monsterman and put him to bed, done three loads of laundry, made the kidlet's school lunch for the next day and scrubbed the place down, it was about 3:30am. Oh gods, I'd have to be up again with ruggie in two and a half hours. No bed for me this night, for fear of oversleeping so I lay down on the sofa and dragged a blanket over myself.
"Dad, its shower time. Dad. Dad? Dad! Its time for our shower!"
Yeah, it was tough waking up. But wake up I did - with the aid of a hot shower, a couple of coffees and nicotine to match - dressed and bowled along to drop off Monsterman for his day of study.
I'd arranged matters so that I could skip out on the literacy gig I usually run on Monday mornings, so after the usual limpetesque hugs from ruggie, I clambered into the car and started the oddly long hour's drive to the airport.
I say oddly long because it’s a somewhat empty drive. One windy bit of highway with nothing to distract or hold the attention other than staying on the right side of the road - the right side being the left side of course. The scenery is quite beautiful, especially this time of year when you can see snow covering the highland plateau, but after years of driving this road for my earlier university treks it isn't quite as distracting as once it was.
I ought to add at this point that I've been fortunate in even having a car to make this drive. My own has been off the road for some months now, and a friend has been slowly helping me get it roadworthy once more. When he realised it was going to take longer than anticipated, he loaned me his spare car. It’s a comfortable little four door, four cylinder job, with - joy of joys! - a functional CD player!
I opened a CD case to push a disc into the player and realised that perhaps my nerves weren't quite as cool and calm as I'd expected. I held the case of the album I'd wanted to listen to on the drive up in my lap, but the case didn't hold the disc with equal skill. In fact, the disc was back at home in my stereo. Bugger. Oh well. I grabbed the mystery disc that holds an unknown collection of albums another friend had given me and started scrolling through tunes.
Miles Davis' A Kind Of Blue filled the car and I could feel myself relaxing with that understated groove and Miles kept me company most of the way to the airport.
10:15am. I'd made it with 15 minutes to spare. Well done that man! I parked the car and ambled into the overgrown sheep shed that is the
Oh bugger. Which flight is it? The first plane has landed and is disgorging its passengers onto the tarmac. I walked outside to wait and watch the crowd filing in, sure that I had the right flight. The quarantine beagle does his thing going back and forth among the passengers, sniffing for contraband. What contraband are they searching for you might ask? Drugs? Explosives? Firearms? Oh no. Something much more terrifying. The beagle is hunting out fresh fruit. Apple smugglers beware!
The dog is halfway along the line of arrivals as the second plane touches down. By the time it has taxied to a halt and the beagle has reached the end of the line, I'm realising with acute embarrassment that I have come to the wrong arrivals gate. She's not on this plane at all. I looked across at the other plane and see the people starting to make their way down the stairs onto the tarmac towards the other arrivals gate.
Fucking idiot.
I walked with a hurried and totally failed attempt at appearing nonchalant back into the building and make my way to the other gate. On arriving there, I realised that at THIS gate there wasn't the option of going outside to wait for the arrivals, but instead you have to remain in the building and watch people file through the doorway one by one. To add to the ignominy, the bloody beagle has already beaten me to the gate. Smartarse dog. I watched every person make their way through the doorway, my nerves stretching a little tighter with each one that isn't her.
Then I see her. Watch her brush a strand of hair back from her face. See her tired yet relieved smile beam at me. Watch her subjected to the wanton sniffings of the smartarse dog. And then...
Her arms are wrapped around me, her face is buried into my chest and she fits there so well.
"Hey there Dimples," she said quietly against my chest.
"Hey there Freckles," I answered. "You made it. You're here."
"I did. I am."
A Motel Interlude
So it had been agreed that for the first few nights of her stay, Freckles would stay at a motel. The idea being that when all was said and done, we didn't know how well we would get along in person, much less how she and Monsterman would hit it off, so we thought that motel thing would take the pressure of expectations off. It was, I guess, a form of escape route or safety valve.
Was there dirty, lewd, rude motel sex? That'd be telling, wouldn't it? I was called a fucking bastard at one point though, which made me laugh and grin a
As it turned out, happily enough, the escape route wasn't necessary.
How To Tease Dad
She was very nervous about meeting Monsterman.
Truth to tell, I was a little nervous as well, because make no bones about it, in my life, ruggie comes first by a long, long way. That said, I was also pretty sure they would get on fine.
"Don't worry, I have no doubt that the two of you will have a great time ganging up on me," I'd told her at one point.
I should have been a prophet.
Somewhere hidden in Monsterman's room, there now lies a book. A small, seemingly innocent spiral bound notepad.
With a moderately misleading title written in Monsterman's handwriting on the first page. It reads: "How To Tease Dad."
This deceptive little collection of jottings is what happens when you introduce Freckles to Monsterman. At present, there are forty-eight entries in it.
A couple of gems from it.
"Tie Dad's shoelaces together."
"Take all the CDs out of the cases and mix them up."
"Replace Dad's shampoo with Nair."
"Empty out Dad's good scotch and replace it with vinegar."
"Place thumbtacks on the bottom step."
"Spit in Dad's socks."
"Put superglue on the bottom of his shoes."
"Replace Dad's parmesan cheese with laundry powder."
There are times I remember that prophets often end their lives quite hideously, and I begin to think introducing these two may not have been the smartest decision I've made in my life.
But there is absolutely no doubt at all, Freckles and Monsterman make a great team.
I'm in a world of trouble.
Penguins, ABBA and Rainbows
The
There is a movie Freckles introduced me to called
For Freckles,
"We're going to go for a drive today." I'd hoped to do this the day before, but the day to day of work and study stuff and massages and being a dad set all that on the back burner. This day however, the weather looked like it might remain stable enough for long enough that we'd have time to go for a bit of a tour.
"Where?"
"You'll see."
"You're going to kill me and dump me in the bushes aren't you?"
I laughed and grabbed the keys.
"Yeah, you worked out my plan. Come on, let's get going."
"Where are we going?"
"You'll see."
Twenty minutes into the drive I told her to close her eyes.
"Oh no. You really are going to dump me in the bushes aren't you? I knew it!"
More laughter. The whole visit has been filled with laughter.
I turned off the road and stopped the car.
"O.K. You can open your eyes and get out of the car now. We're there."
She got out of the car and looked at the building in front of her.
ETC: Elizabeth Town Cafe.
"Welcome to
The stunned look on her face was priceless.
"No. Fucking. Way."
After the feed, we drove out a ways to take a photo of the
We went in to see if bargains might be had. And for Freckles to buy something cheesy to remember her by.
We found a desk which caused a great deal of frustration. A perfect study desk for Monsterman, with a map of the world on the desktop that still showed the U.S.S.R as opposed to the now splintered
Mantle and carriage clocks, books, an old treadle Singer sewing machine, cut glass and crystal, medals from the first world war, tattered comics, an odd collection of shoes and more. A plethora of tiny little objects - some in pristine condition, some proudly showing their age. In amongst them all a small pile of vinyl records.
"I've found your remembrance present!"
Her delight had me instantly wary and on guard.
She held up the record and I groaned. Loud. I think I even winced.
The record? ABBA - The Greatest Hits.
Yes, there is photographic proof of that as well as, dammit.
She laughed as we got into the car. A long delighted and wicked laugh that lasted till we got back to where the sign by the road announced Elizabeth Town. We got out of the car and took photos of the sign and as we got in the car we both looked out over the fields.
A rainbow. Arching across the horizon and ending right at
Lots of smiles and wonderment and chuckles at that one.
"I think we've got time," I said.
"For what?"
"One more place I want you to see."
We drove back. through my hometown, and further west along the coast road. I told little stories of the towns we passed through, of blue ringed octopus and old houses.
We came around the last bend, the sea waters coming in to shore on our right, masses of bright flowerbeds bordering both sides of the road, and the sign that said, "Welcome to Penguin."
Penguin just seemed appropriate somehow.
We had coffees at The Groovy Penguin Cafe, wandered past the rubbish bins that were surrounded by little sculpted penguins, took a couple of suggestive photos in front of a giant statue of a penguin, and left the town in a cloud of noxious meat pie fuelled fart fumes.
And even then, Penguin forgave us, and said its farewell to us with yet another rainbow that stretched from water to hillsides.
The King And Queen Of Chickenfeed
"All you need is chicken feed coz a little goes a long, long way....."
So goes the jingle for the highly successful chain of "liquidator/dollar store" type stores here. The chain of stores is quite disturbingly known as Chickenfeed and has a freaky looking cartoon chicken as its logo. They do have a lot of cheap and handy stuff though.
Which is why Monsterman and I were in there buying some notepads for him after school. As we were walking through the store, I saw a rack with thick work socks on it, and told ruggie we'd have to go back sometime soon and get some of those, because I was running out of socks.
When we returned home, it was to find Freckles walking up the drive with a Chickenfeed bag in her hand. She showed us her purchases.
Among them, a packet of the same socks ruggie and I had just been looking at.
I just goggled at them. Amazed. And finally overcame the amazement enough to tell her about the intended purchase.
There'd been somewhat of a running joke that even though she is American, she wasn't here to invade
When we went through some of the other things she'd seen in Chickenfeed however, it was decided that as they sold cooking oil in Chickenfeed, Freckles was now the reigning monarch of all Chickenfeed stores.
A salute was invented.
Ruggie pipes up a couple of days later and asks if he can be a ruler of Chickenfeed as well.
"Sure, you can be the prince."
He looks at her, an arched eyebrow, eyes twinkling with barely suppressed laughter and then deadpan voice says to her, "Isn't prince a bit of a step down?"
"All right, you can be KING of Chickenfeed. Better?"
I can't stop laughing at the delight on his face at having got one over on her.
And so a plan was hatched.
The last day of her visit, all three of us wandered into Chickenfeed, the King and Queen resplendent in their paper crowns. They begin to move through the store on their regal peregrination and I peel off to the front counter and have a quiet word with the fella working the checkout there.
The King and Queen make their stately way to the checkout, purchases in hand.
The man at the checkout looks at ruggie in his paper crown.
"Howzit goin' mate? They tell me you're the King of Chickenfeed."
The look on Monsterman's face?
Worth his weight in gold.
The Strangest Airport Announcement I've Heard
Sometimes it’s worth waiting around that little bit longer.
I was outside the airport building, watching strobe lights blinking up into the sky, and the P.A crackled into life.
Chuckles and giggling.
"Mark, if you're getting coffee,
More laughter, crackles and silence._
The sound of the plane engines has gone now, and I can hear the magpies and kookaburras starting their morning chorus.
It was going to be a long drive back home.
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