THE LORD OF THE RINGS - again!
I'm onto the second volume already. It's a wonderful book to read when ill. It's going to be very cool when the movie comes out at the end of the year. Even aside from the fact that it was made 5 mins walk down the hill from us in sleepy Miramar!
We've been many things in Matthew's imagination. Pirates and parents, babies and horses. For the longest while we were characters from Postman Pat — a children's cartoon. Matthew was Postman Pat, I was Peter Fogg, and Debbie was Mrs Goggins. Even now, I've only to speak in a faux Irish accent (yes, I know Postman Pat was set in England, don't ask!), “Arrrrrgggghhhhh Patrick, how's the postround going today?”, and he'll drop into character, calling me Peter Fogg and asking after Mrs Goggins.
In the most current imaginary adventures, we're all firemen. Deb is called Trelinken, a name he just conjured out of the blue, I'm Mister Steel (nicely appropriate methinks!), and Matthew's Fireman Sam — the boss. Fires can happen at any stage, early in the morning he might demand to know where Trelinken is so they can go off and fight one. I have known him to delay fighting a fire until he finished his ice-cream, but, to give him credit, this is rare. Last night he even finished his bath early when I informed him he was needed in the living room to help Trelinken put out the fire there. Actually I thought that was a masterstroke myself, it can be sheer hell getting him out of the bath.
But we usually play the game in his bedroom, after dinner. His bed is the fire engine, and Trelinken and I will sit on the middle and back, waiting to go. The head of the bed is the driver's seat, and only Fireman Sam is allowed there. He has a small box on the edge of the bed that's a door, letting him on and off, and a basket that's his steering wheel. The scenes are usually scripted. He might, for instance, be sleeping on his table — he lies there with his eyes open, pretending to snore — and one of us will have to ring the fire alarm bell. He'll wake with a start, shouting, “Emergency!”, and jump up and climb into the fire engine and drive us all off to fight the fire. Once there he'll issue us with fire hoses and we'll put the fire out. Just now Deb's come out of the bedroom. All I've heard for the past five minutes is fire sounds. I asked Deb what they've been doing — “I've been reading the paper and going Ding Ding Ding Ding”.
I went and saw the Dr yesterday, and she's told me to take the week off work. I've got a viral infection, and need to rest up. I'm still pretty shattered, pehaps slightly better, but still out of breath and a little dizzy coming up the path from the road.
Oops, Fireman Sam has just discovered Trelinken. He'd been watching tv, but got up to go check. We heard, “Awwwwwwwww, Trelinken, you're not in the fire engine!” Pat, pat, pat of pre-school feet. “Trelinken, you get back in that fire engine right now!” Trelinken, though, has just turned to me.
“Your turn Mister Steel … ”
Link of the day
Cafe culture in Wellington
Journals and blogs that I read regularly
Raising Hell
Feral Living
Hippycritical
Udder
My Life in 12 Point Font
Journal of a Writing Man
Some Jingle Jangle Morning
The Last Girl Scout
Potatoe.com
Journallife.com
Window to my Soul
Chickybabe
Sorabji.com
Yesterday's Makeup
Fifteen Milliliters
Fly Away
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Photo of tunnel copyright Bernd Klumpp, available from istockphoto.com