Wanderer

Happy wanderer

On a bike

No traffic threats, no traffic noise. A distant tractor rolling hay wrapped in green plastic. In my day it was a haystack ~ “Dont you go climbing over your uncle’s hay stack, he’ll have to rebuild it. Poor man he’s not getting any younger”

The older Uncle got, the more fun he was with us kids. He was a kid once, remembers the ‘kid’ things he used to do.

“We painted Boyo’s tail green once. Green things grow.”

But  horsie’s tail stayed just the same.

Silence, space, once a railway, now a bike trail.

Crunch of tyre on track,

“Hi!” Cheery greeting from passing cyclist.

A stray, meaningful ‘Moo!’

I don’t speak Moo. Cows have got used to us.

Time to stare.

Last ride before Christmas.

Grandpa Club

Over four hundreds years of experience

Average age of eighty

Five of us.  Croaky, happy old mates.

“It’s our Grandpa Club,” I tell the kids

Each month we’d get into a tizz

Scratching for lost recipes

Kitchen timers that had gone on leave

Each month, well, a few days before, “What am I on this month? “

A mild panic, a healthy panic. It kept us active, together.

Five of us on Soup, Main, Dessert, Wine, or

“You’ve got this month off Chris, tell us more about you!”

An old Austin

In a hurry

South Africa

Stopped by a copy

“Hey,  you’re the doctor that delivered our son!”

“I’m about to do the same for a woman thirty miles away.”

“You’d better be on your way then.”

A Windy and Blustiferous Day

An inside day.

I perched myself in my ‘local

A small and more intimate place

We know each other

Easy to chat, enjoy respectable sky larking

(One day I shall become a respectable grand father)

It’s a good place, the staff are chatty, and, predict what I’m going to order. And next door, through a convenient walkway is the book shop. A very desirable way of farewelling my pension.

Today the place is more crowded. Probably because the weather outside is ‘stink’ as the younger ones say.

At a large table is seated one of our ‘older’ couples. They do look friendly.

“Do you mind if I sit at this table – I promise I’ll behave.”

“Please do, you’re most welcome. I can’t promise ‘he’ will.”

She gesticulates at her husband alongside.

An English accent. Welcoming.

They downed tools ‘back home’ and to retire, moved here to the colonies, New Zealand.

“Love the smallness,

the easy-to-get-on-with people here.”

He was a civil engineer

I describe my teaching days

“Specialised in music, creative writing, drama. Great kids, great days.”

The coffee was good

The conversation a pick me up on a Windy and Blustifereous day

Pony

Term Holidays

Walking
Head down
Country air
Happy thoughts

A light, rhythmic canter
Eager
Closer
Trots to the fence line
Her Pony

A communion of two

University Term break
My granddaughter is home
And down at the paddock

Instant recognition
Girl, Pony, together

An elderly man
At some distance
Captivated
Mystified
Ponies are so large
I’m not quite a Pony man

Me
Poppa
Great with cats, other people’s dogs
Chuckles with grandchildren – other people’s grandchildren
Crazy stories,
Laughs

Laughs, lies and teasing

A warm tan
Those large eyes
Teeth!
‘Flick!’ of the tail
Up close, ponies are enormous

Silence of communication
Inspection

Slow trot to the Pony Yard
“Come on!”
Right front hoof raised
Stones hooked out by some
Swiss Knife for ponies thingie

Me, the grandfather
First up in the morning
First up every morning
A well rehearsed
Making of that first coffee

Early morning light
Paddocks, cows
The ponies
Are waking
Space
Silence

David Legge, June 2025.