Wild Child

Sunday is totally eventless with the exception of the child from down the road.

Before we go any further I need to make a couple of things clear. I do not have any children. I do not see this as a tragedy. It is very likely that it is a good thing that I do not have children. I'm not a crazy lady who plots evil against children or who would ever harm a child but it's like turnips, I'd prefer my stew without. You may have your stew any way you like.

Any way, the people at the end of my road have a son, about five years old who has one of those ride-in electric cars. Now the roads at Grangeways are packed gravel and this electric car has hard tires. On top of this, the motor has something wrong with it causing it to go clunk, clunk, clunk about twice a second. Added together this results in a rather noisy passage.

Around 9:00, he trundles past my site. Around 9:10 back he comes. Next arrival around 9:20 and so on all day with brief respite for lunch and dinner. His last trip at 9:35 PM. It's pitch dark and has been for a while. Are his folks not too fond of him either? Hoping for Gypsies to carry him off?

The irritation is not merely the noise but its almost perfect regularity. After so many passages, you develop an internal clock of expectation for the next passage. When it doesn't come, you notice and then you notice when one minute later it does come. Sorta like Chinese water torture, drip drip pause drip.

The kid doesn't go anywhere else: not around the block, just up and down "my" street. He has a great future as a street car driver: back and forth, back and forth, all day long. Aarrrgh!

The access to my site is difficult being partially blocked by a hydro pole and I had already decided to move to another site down the road which had clear access. But now, I was looking for a site on a different loop. Not only to get away from the kid and his car but on one of my walks with Ruby, I noticed that the site next to the one available on my road looked like a toy store had exploded.

Unh, Unh, no thanks.

Fortunately, there's one on the next loop. We'll take care of that little chore tomorrow before we leave for the season.

Ginger