a tourist everywhere
I can’t remember whether it’s zed or zee, the check or the bill, left- or right-hand drive. I’m a tourist everywhere I go now. This is mostly fine, except when I get maudlin and complain to myself that I never get all the people I love together in the same room.
Yesterday Kay drove Jeremy, Claire and I up to the farm to see Thussy and Bellboy, so that was four favourite people and one pony. Claire wasn’t particularly interested in sitting on Bellboy’s back, but when we set her loose on the green and daisy-speckled grass she made a beeline for his blue velvet nose. He breathed interestedly all over her. He looks the same as ever, all huge eyes and flirty silver tail; so beautiful he should be a unicorn. He taught me to ride and at the rate he’s going, he’ll teach Miss Claire too.
Today we flew to Brisbane. Claire hooted and wiggled in the lap belt, causing the grumpy businessmen across the aisle to glare impotently at me. As soon as I let her wriggle down, she climbed up into the empty seat next to mine. Lunch arrived and she ate the foccacia and silverside off my sandwich. I just had time to pop a cushion under her lolling head before she fell into a deep snooze.
Mum and Dad picked me up, and Sarah and Alain came to meet us at Cafe Zanetti, and now we’re all at Patrick’s Road with Max and Kelly and Ross, so that’s – how many? Another eight of my favourite people, counting Claire.
