davidlegge

Ain’t Easy Being a Cat

Planning dinner Shopping Clearing magazines from coffee table Thinking stuff to amuse humans

Thames Junction Hotel. A historic building established in 1869, the beginning of the gold mining days. This was the days of steam. The days and nights of the gold stampers, noise, ground vibrating, and at midnight Saturday the citizens would wake. Silence. The Lord’s day. All this 20 years before the advent of electricity, but,Continue reading “Lunch on the Way”

Head up. Shoulders back

The mysteries of supermarket shelves unravelled. Tomorrow… Prescription, name forgotten, the computer knows it all. Free, long live Public Health. Oops, thought that said pubic for a minute. Find my car. Look casual, keep looking. It’s grey. On bright days a different colour grey. Look casual.

Home Made

Gluten flour, sunflower seeds, sweat and tears kneading. 37 minutes at 180° Celsius.

A walkway runs beside our petanque terrain. This time of year we meet visitors, German, Dutch, French. Two people from Toulouse stopped and watched our play. Accepted the invitation to join in. Serious players in the thought and precision of each shot.

The Playground is Empty

A child’s sock. A shirt. The river to myself today. 23°.

The Signal Box Still Stands

Restored, remembered, my grandfather worked her. My mother the youngest of seven daughters.

Woe is Me

My grandfather has frittered away my inheritance. From a wealthy family in England to Coromandel NZ he tried his hand at gold mining. And so it came to pass I am born into the working class. Forget the commiserations, just send the money.

Petanque

Two games lost, laughter and sun. Sweat and battery power cyclists, dogs tugging on leads, herons nesting above us. A light plane circles above, circuit training. And the fish are jumping. Fish and chips for lunch down at the wharf. Early summer. Thames NZ.

Barefoot in the Sun

Barefoot in the Sun Manuka rod, string, a hook on the end with a scrappy morsel of meat and barefoot to the wharf where it was forbidden to play. Cranes, grown men and language. Fish, or no fish, who cares, it is Saturday. Toys and novelty unlimited by a kid’s imagination. The stuff adults slipContinue reading “Barefoot in the Sun”