Saturday, December 11, 2010

Will my camera melt?

This morning, as I waited for the sun to creep over the tall trees lining my tent to thaw the bitter cold from the previous night, I read more from Stephen King's Cell.

When I finally emerge thanks to heat, my first encounter was a teenager muttering to himself in gibberish, walking in a circle outside my tent. This freaked the shit outa me. Mostly because 'Cell' was about teenage zombies that mutter to themselves and walk around in circles. It took a few moments to register reality. Thankfully, he wasn't a zombie. He was a mentally retarded kid on holiday with his folks for the weekend. His name was Brendan and he talked to anyone who came within a 20m radius of him. Including myself.

Louise, Brendan and special guest star Chris arrived around midday like I had predicted over a breakfast of blueberry muffins and we promptly struggled with the second larger tent they bought with them.

Such days of worriless relaxation I have not seen in a long time. As we read and talked and Catan-ed and made french toast, I felt like things were once again possible.

Bear Grylls, aka Chris made not only a makeshift fridge in the river, but a roaring fire* to cook our tins of spaghetti. And with a Bananagrams game under our belt, Louise and I were fire dancing to the songs of Glee; much to the amusement (or bemusement) of Brendan, I felt.

Fruit of the Moment: Bedazzled Jumpers
*Brendan, also made the fire

2 comments:

  1. ... this kid wasn't by any chance named Brendan Guy? Blondish hair, slightly fat, talked a lot about killing people?

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  2. Possibly? I didn't ask his last name. Although, i'm sure the overwhelming bush-lands had distracted whatever murderous feelings he had towards humanity.
    Why you ask?

    ReplyDelete