I took Sport Boy down to the Monday night beach volleyball so he could put himself up for hire as a ballboy in the 2-a-side comp. He did two games and got a booking for Wednesday night as well! He even got a write-up in the local paper this week describing his exploits as ball boy. He liked it but said to me, "The writer made it more dramatic than it really was, do writers do that a lot?"
Welcome to the real world kid, Truth in Journalism 101!
Something unusual happened this evening, the beach returned! Every week for the last several months the spot where Sport Boy uis standing has been practically the edge of the water line. (Busselton has lost a huge amount of beach front over the last few years, I'm sure it's the result of global warming!) But tonight the water was nearly 10 metres further out, and it can't be the tide because we play at the same time each week. I don't know the explanation but it was nice to have more beach than normal. While SB earned money I sat at a bench and started work on a painting. At the bench next to me a lady was eating Chinese takeaway and we struck up a conversation.Harriet is out here on a month's holiday from England, the town of Northampton in fact. We talked about my picture and the problems I was having with it, and her trip and family and she told me about her 43 year old daughter who died of breast cancer 12 months ago. Then Sport Boy arrived, hungry, and Harriet shared some of her chicken with him and he told her about the blog and his love of sport. I gave her my card and invited them round for a cuppa or for dinner tomorrow night if they feel like it. She was interested to hear about what The Heir is doing in England and had even heard of Haddenham and Wheatley, the villages where he is working and studying.
I'm about to sit down and watch the edited telecast of the SuperBowl, having studiously avaoided all mention of it throughoput the day in order to watch it without knowing the result.
One of my pet hates is watching a game when I already know who's won.