“Tarnation”,
Uncle Gnarley exclaimed, as I ushered him inside, the chill air swirling, as it
sought to freeze my underparts. “Nav,
why aren’t you dressed and ready”, demanded Uncle Gnarley? “You were the one who proposed to hike Cape
Spear, this morning. You know how I hate
it when you are not on time!” Suddenly, the light bulb went on. I had indeed
challenged the old man to hike the trail from the most easterly point in North
America to Petty Harbour, for the umpteenth time. I had forgotten to alarm my clock. No, not
forgotten. I suddenly remembered I had
drifted off to sleep watching the ‘filibuster’, on my laptop, as it played
itself out in the House of Assembly.
Quietly, not
wanting to awaken sleeping beauty, I explained to Gnarley what had given rise
to my indiscretion. A smirk appeared, suggesting,
perhaps forgiveness, as he muttered that I was doing “god’s work” keeping an
eye on “that lot”, referring to the Government, adding, "we shall
catch up on the goings on in the House of Assembly". I nodded and proposed that, while I was completing my ablutions, he might cook a breakfast suited to two inveterate outdoorsmen. A couple of eggs and a slice of homemade bread should put some spring in our step, I allowed. Then, with a grin that underlined its significance, I offered, as the French would say, the pièce de résistance, “the blood pudding is on the lower shelf of the refrigerator”.
A look of greater
satisfaction could not have been seen on a six year old on Christmas
morning.
