I debated about whether Southland would be good today or better tomorrow. Would my leg be worse than today? It would have been okay if I hadn't stretched the tendon stepping onto the scales, right foot first then the left, dumb. Weight is stationary at humongous. A clue, I needed a clue so I rang for a taxi and got straight through, good, the drunks are home from last night.
I get money from the bank for mum, have breakfast/lunch and wander downstairs for the paper and food but the cherries aren't in yet. Maybe just two mince pies for afters on Christmas Day, so it's limp, limp to Bakers Delight and what a struggle to ignore all the lovely loaves of bread and the wafting smell of baking.
Then right in front of me is a golden haired munchkin that barely came to my dodgy knees.
She was holding a bunch of pink flowers wrapped in cellophane and was giving them to me. I looked around for parents, thinking she just wanted me to hold them for her but her mother just shrugged and said the child insisted I should have them. When I thanked her I was rewarded with the most wonderful smile.