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| RTomens, 2021 |
I hope no 'cross words' were exchanged between you and your relatives or loved one during the season of merriment. After all, it's quite possible and some cynics would say highly likely that despite previous enforced co-habitation via government orders cordial relations in an enclosed environment for longer than is usual could be...testing. Oh the pressure to exude 'good will' from every pore whilst the alcohol threatens to unleash safeguard mechanisms and the eyes tire from the kind of viewing your parents prefer!
No such problems for us since here in The Cave we enjoy quiet Christmases these days. Just us two. One can't help reminiscing about years gone by, however. Such as the year my dad bought me a push bike that was at least two sizes too big. I still remember the encouragement from the family as I was lifted on to it: "You'll grow into it!" And I did, eventually. Yet I was a nervous cyclist. Friends would call at the house to see if I wanted to go out for a ride and I would cower in fear. Years later I was riding that bike through the village when my friend's sister hailed me as she walked up the hill to my right. The next minute I had hit the back of a parked car and smacked my chin on the crossbar. I still have the small scar.
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