The road wasn't wide enough for the holiday traffic. The island getaway home was lent to me and my host family by Madame McGrath a former native of the US of A. She teaches French at Belgrave Heights. She is currently dragging her right foot around; a persistent injury sparked off by dropping a metal replica of the Eiffel Tower on her foot.
I'm not joking.
My first contact with her was me covering a class of hers. It was a year 7 French class and they were taking a test. Easy. I hypnotized them with my accent and was very serious about staying quiet or having the test taken away. Everything went fine.
At the top of the last test I collected it said, "Sorry I didn't finish it. I'm not very good at taking tests. Please don't make me take it again. :( "
I looked up and the girl was in tears, being consoled by her friends. The bell rang, they all left and I wrote a note to Madame McGrath explaining the crying girl with the test half completed by the compassionate whisperings of her neighbors. That was our first contact. Madame McGrath currently has a the only other student teacher in the school. A girl teaching French with confident blonde hair named... well I can't tell you her name because I make up people's names in my blogs and I can't think of a good pseudonym for her so she will be French Student Teacher Girl, or some variation of that... deep sigh. Ahh French Student Teacher Girl...
The Island is shaped like a dolphin and full of Kangroos and Wombats and Koalas that I didn't see. I did see a Wallaby, but these things are common and are really imitators of the Kangaroo. Cheap greedy imitators.
We did several day hikes and walked or biked around town. I bought a cheap hoodie which I immediately cut holes in for my thumbs to stick out through. The only other thing I almost bought was one of those little collectible spoons for my Grandma B. There were several antique stores around full of trinkets one almost wants badly enough to buy. Stores that live and die by the amount of impulsive buyers who flutter through their doors and along their wares floors long enough to have their eye caught by the flicker of an object from ten to two hundred years ago.
I couldn't find a spoon I was completely satisfied with the second day around (always wait until the second day to make your purchase, if you have the option) so I came back with a very generic blue hoodie.
My hoodie, while only costing ten dollars, is better than Nicki Minaj.
Wallabies are artful deceivers, miniatures attempting to steal the spotlight from the majestic kangaroo and are therefore worse than Nicki Minaj.
Me and my roommates old "Big Green" chair will always be better than Nicki Minaj, even in hundreds of years when it has rotted into the ground or been burnt into the atmosphere and joined the stars as star-stuff.
So, I am off to a weekend at Super-Hero camp. It's for low-income kids and tries to get the kids and counselors down to a one on one ratio. My kid is named Lucas and he is in year 6. When I get back, you will hear about Wilson's Prom and then Super-Hero camp (no, we do not get to dress up like Super-Heroes. I suspect the camp will be worse than Nicki, but that Lucas will be better. That is my forecast, you'll find out soon if I'm a prophet or not.) so I have some catching up to do still.
Cheers,
Melmoth
P.S. Libby Allen on how many people are in Australia and the US, "There aren't 22 million Australians... there can't be. Because there are only like 8 million people in the US..."
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