My family goes months and nothing
much happens. This week is the usual seven days long but a year’s worth of
events unfolds.
My sister and her husband buy a
magnificent house for $830K. My son and his partner Katie finally get the kiss
of approval from an estate agent for a rental in Carrum Downs. Mo tells me he
has saved a sixth of a deposit to buy a house in two months since resuming work
after their round-Australia trip.
My mother falls down steps
while inspecting my sister’s new house and, according to my sister, is
miserable. I speak to her several times on the phone and while I hear her pain,
she seems chirpy enough. I visit and she seems OK. When I take my leave in the
late afternoon, she almost implores me to stay for dinner.
My daughter, touring Tassie,
ends up in hospital after a tick bite undergoing tests for Lyme disease. My
grand-daughter has a foot, mouth and hand rash. Gemma rings early while eating
breakfast on the bank of Lake St Clair. She’s fine, she says. So is Nerri; it’s
just teething, eye teeth, and her resistance drops when she’s got new teeth
coming through.
I go to Ballarat to organise
some training I’ll present, work on the templates project, and land a paid job
on Friday.
My back and buttock pain
finally disappear all but completely. I return to the gym for three early
morning classes—two pump, one spin. And Rock hops back on his bike, broken rib
OK, torn shoulder ligaments under sufferance. We set a record slow time up the
One-in-Twenty but our only aim is to get to the top.
After everything else, it’s
enough.
Rock on.
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