STATUESQUE LOVE IN THE PARK
Just last week The Spouse and I went into town to visit the park. Big deal? It is if you live in Southland (“South of here,” observes The Sage thoughtfully, “be only penguins. Shivering penguins.”) so when you get a day of bright sunshine for once, without the attendant equinoctial gales* you make the most of it.
I have a lovely Spouse and share personal space with an incorporeal transient Sage. I also have a wee cheapie camera and a sense of humour that has on occasion been charitably described as ‘impish’ — to set the scene: Southlanders are a dour pack (descended mostly from Scots but hardened by generations of inbreeding) not much given to subtlety. On occasion my sudden explosions of mirth have earned me hard looks and sometimes The Spouse has even had to evacuate me toot-sweet lest I become a clobberee or (one close call) the focal point of a minor riot. I can’t help it, I’m English born and from Auckland. Sue me.
Where were we … aaah, the park~! Queens Park in Invercargill and absolutely gorgeous it is too. But what caught my delight this time was the seals—a couple of bronzes right in the kiddies’ playground. Given that Southlanders are not only dour, they are pedantic in points of law and social mores to the nth degree; prudes they are in extremis …
… so the expression on the face of the smaller seal just rang my bell; that coupled with the unaware bland indifference of all the fond mothers rocking their sticky infants on swings or feeding them through the slides; oblivious of the effect that such sealine depravity may have upon upcoming young minds.
* “The Equinox,” murmurs The Sage in my ear, “was six weeks-ish ago.” A goodly point and well made. But when you’ve had non-stop winds for the whole intervening period you can feel reasonably safe assuming them to be the same wind …(Hell, even our foxgloves were growing sideways along the ground until just a couple of days ago when they resumed their reaching-for-the-skies bit.