Today’s bench is decidedly different from yesterday’s. It’s a ‘classy’ bench in an award winning restaurant in Toowong, a suburb of Brisbane. I kind of resent paying a lot to sit at a bench. I also resent paying a lot to be served with a little.
The high class restaurant bench is not much softer than your outdoor council provided bench and usually comes in at a strange height which leaves my legs dangling slightly above the ground. The back of this red bench in Toowong thrust people somehow into a curious posture – the upper back forced forwards, somehows.
The awkwardness of sitting is demonstrated clearly by Carol in the striped shirt as she attempts to relax with an elbow casually on the table.
The bench in horseshoe formation. Access to and from required a crawl through and under the table but it could be done. It could be done.
Now that I take another look, perhaps we were meant to pay more attention to the restaurant’s name: BLUE FROG in order to leave our positions on the bench.
This is a separate issue from the bench – in a way. Just thought I would show you THE MEAL at the BLUE FROG. That’s it. Yes – that’s ALL of it. Eat up now.
I so don’t fit into this World.
Well. These are moments I am very familiar with, the lifeblood of my days. Let me think for a moment whilst I choose one.
In the 1990s. a time came when I had my kids back in my care and we had returned to our hometown from the City. We had put in some hard years and had reached a cottage on the edge of a subtropical rainforest island in the middle of town. I was safe. They were safe and we were home. Family was nearby and memories. The river ran behind the house and fruit grew on the trees out the back.
The ex-husband had planted a rock garden behind the house for us. Life had slowed to a gentleness and kindliness which I hadn’t been sure would return to us. Perhaps I had never quite had it till the late 1980s.
I had just driven home from town and had seen the boys on their bikes, up to mischief, outriding the ranger, with their long hair flying. They screeched to a stop on the top of the riverbank and looked back. Seemed to me they were straight from the Highlander movies. Probably not the best behaviour for two teenage boys but the breath of freedom was flowing through them.
I took myself through the old house and out into the backyard, delighted with life.
I no longer recall why I decided to lie down on the grass. Must have been a summer’s day.
What happened then as I lay there amongst the old trees, was that I looked up and a myriad of stars – a stellar cascade seemed to shower all over me. Sparks of silver light. Don’t know what caused it. Don’t know what it was. Don’t care.
I loved it.
What are three things you can do to be a better friend to the people in your life?
Not going there at all. Except to say that when I go to meeting this morning, Jo might bring me a dozen eggs from her farm.