I remember a Summer, not so long ago, when a German wandered into our bundle of friends. He was on a one year trip, in between something-or-other, and had decided to spend three weeks in Sydney.
We dubbed him “German”. Or, rather, I dubbed him German (for there were too many Davids around as it was) and took him along to the beach, and the mountains, and showed him what a whole, raw chicken looked like for the very first time in his twenty-something-year-old life.
Six months later, as the cold set in, he was still with us (and would keep reappearing for the better part of the year, with intermittent trips around the place and a visa renewal in Thailand).
And every time I think of how ridiculously cold it’s getting around here (and how much colder it’s about to get), I think of him, swanning around in a cotton tee and a pair of shorts in ten degree weather, asking if we could go to the beach on account of the beautiful weather.
Read More
0 comments:
Post a Comment