Postcards from the edge

Dave trying out small legs because he knows deep down that small people are the best. Over two decades ago, Dave told me if I ever bought him slippers he would throw them on the fire because slippers are for oldies apparently. So I waited many years, and meanwhile we filled out, our hairs greyed and still I waited. But this year I went rogue and got him a pair, from the kids so he can't burn them, and he has worn them, sort of.

We went out at night for our first pitch black beach comb, I fairly creeped myself out with the noise of the waves, the nearer they actually were the farther away they sounded, the farther away they were, the louder they sounded, it was weird and I kept getting so wrapped up in beachcombing I'd suddenly find myself a bit too isolated in my small pool of light. Found a beezer (do people still say that word or am I just born out of my time?) of an old glass stopper and a creepy ceramic figurine head.

On route we heard that Carrie Fisher had died. With her passing my childhood memories of Star Wars christmasses and goosebumps at opening credits briefly became vivid before receding again. Beyond Star Wars she was such a wit, full of sass and pretty raw and honest about drink, drugs and mental health. We watched When Harry Met Sally when we got home, I'd forgotten she was in that but Dave remembered big time. Along with her being his first on-screen crush, like millions of other wee lads around the world. I hope Gary the dog is okay!!