I can't walk on water!!

Walked into town today and had to wait up for sometime at Sainsbury's while a heavy rainstorm passed over.

Standing under the outside canopy, I chatted as you do, with shoppers contemplating a trolley dash to their parked cars. I made friends with a waiting dog who found my foot a comforting source of warmth for his shivering wet backside. I was entertained by the Sainsbury trolley "herdsman" who was positively wallowing in the rain and rather like a conjuror producing flowers would surprise shoppers with his folding umbrella.
I endured the secondhand cigarette fumes from the odd puffer, who to be fair would have found it difficult to smoke in the rain! And I listened to the mindnumbing repetitive jingle of the Fireman Sam kiddie's ride.
I think it was the second of these annoyances that made me think that getting rainsoaked wasn't so bad!
And besides, I had seen numerous young people walking past who were happily wet through. They do it all the time don't they. You see them going to school in the pouring rain, seemingly oblivious to the soaking they're getting. I'd always thought it was a mind set thing. A bit of anarchy mixed with the self-belief of walking on hot coals.....or water.
That's for me I thought! Anarchic self-belief!

I was off. Initially at a bit of a jog, until the achilles played up. Then at a brisk walk, albeit a bit erratic because the achilles were quite painful now. 100 yards or so later and after a few strange looks from beneath the umbrellas of passing teenagers, I stopped briefly in a bus shelter. I had to stop. I couldn't see as rain ran into my eyes.

No turning back though and no point waiting either. Over the road, avoiding eye contact with passing strangers in their so sensible rainwear, I strut out ignoring the pain in my achilles.
Fortunately there are no more onlookers to worry about. Who'd be out on a day like this?

Then a car hoots and clearing my eyes of water I can see it's my daughters. Great! They're waving. I wave back. They don't wave again! No... looks like your on your own here matey!! Into the park. And there it was. The ultimate test of immaturity. A huge great puddle! Now I'm beyond caring. Straight through the middle. No looking for the shallow bits, this was foot slapping Gene Kelly at his best.
50 yards from home, a passer-by, with unknowing irony, offers to share his golf umbrella and does look somewhat relieved when I decline with thanks.
Then a final sprint up the street...just in case any neighbours see me, and in through the front door. So I'm breathless, aching and of course very wet...but I'm home.
Now I have to say I shall take my umbrella with me the next time I hoof it into town , but walking in the rain apart.. I won't let a bit of temporary discomfort or curious glances from onlookers ever stop me doing anything!

Out of the mouths of children

During the recent hot spell I bought my two daughters straw hats as sun protection while working on their allotment. I think it was the sight of their sun burnt mother (the "ex") recently home from holiday, that motivated the purchase. I'll resist getting sidetracked here on their mother's apetite for holidays and suntanning....the thing I wanted to mention is the allotment!

Isn't that where I should be heading as an imminent retiree? Are they subconsciously setting me an example of how to behave. Is this an instance of the child becoming the parent? I suspect so judging by their disapproval of my recent antics when chasing after "abusive" motorists!

That's the wonderful thing about Grandchildren. They never disapprove. I took four of them to Warwick Castle during the half-term holiday. We missed the A46 junction on the M6...too busy talking. Hardly a word of dissent during the extra half an hour we added to the journey. The 20 minute walk from the car park wasn't a problem - except for the ones who always tell it as it is! And what acclaim when I waved my pre-booking voucher to one of the Greeters and we managed to "VIP our way in" ahead of the long queues. The day was a great success! My inaugural packed lunch was enthusiastically put away. Responsibility for choosing and navigating us to the programme of attractions was skilfully delegated and readily accepted, and I felt that I anticipated their expectations very well. OK... Maybe they were "very understanding" when the early vantage point I grabbed to watch the jousting was obscured by pushy latecomers! Perhaps they were also "very grown up" about settling for the £4 replica sword instead of the authentic looking £10 full-sized version! And maybe the fun was mine alone as we played "find the lost car" as we returned to the wooded car park!

Heading home, I decided against the slower scenic route via Leamington, electing to turn left and head for the A46 and the M42..... and the first traffic jam!!! This was the customary M42 rush hour fantasy incident and not surprisingly there was some bewilderment as 30 minutes later we passed by the alleged incident?

Picking up speed to 20 mph we were soon on the M6....and quickly into the second traffic jam. We didn't move for over half ann hour and I began to sense growing indifference to my attempts to entertain. Then the day's accumulation of cold drinks had the inevitable effect! Boredom turned to painful anguish. My absent minded observation that we would have been home an hour ago if we'd gone via Leamington didn't help. Then relief all round as the traffic moves and we hurry into Corley Services for further relief all round.

Despite not having moved much in the previous two hours the good old Lexus 300 didn't stop using fuel at a bankrupting rate, so a vital fill up was necessary before we left Corley. What is it about motorway services that gets you so disorientated? Whatever it is, it led me the wrong side of the car pump area. I weighed up the idea of reversing back between exiting juggernauts. Cool? No!! Stupid? Yes!! We went with the traffic, back out onto the M6, and with a near empty tank. Hiding my anxiety well, it was a totally unexpected exit that we made at Coventry in search of a petrol station. The hint of surprise in the chorus of "where are we going now?" suggested that my reservoir of trust and goodwill was also verging on empty. But a refuelled Lexus and a large bag of chocolate eclairs from the forecourt shop soon restored my infallibale grandfather status. Back to a thankfully free-flowing M6 and with no further incidents we were off home to download stories to their mothers of a "brilliant day out with grandad!"

Afterwards, when thinking back on this graciousness that kids generously bestow on their grandparents it made me ask myself - why is it that we have to lose that forebearance towards others? Do we have to mature into sceptical and critical adults who feel the need to offer opinions whether they're useful or not? Should we not try harder to retain the graciousness of children?