Chelsea, Ella and I were standing outside Savers on Sydney Road last Saturday when a guy walked – or rather, hobbled – past us. He had a big bushy beard, wild hair and was wearing a filthy khaki shirt and pants. Tied to his leg with two strips of black cloth was a broom handle – a makeshift splint, presumably. He looked decidedly uncomfortable as he lurched awkwardly along the pavement.
After he was a suitable distance away, Chelsea (3 1/2) said, “That man was funny!” I was a bit unsure of how to respond. “Yeah,” I said. “He had a stick tied to his leg!”
“No!” she laughed, amused by my naivety. “He wasn’t wearing any shoes!”
is ellsmoyle already standing (i.e standing around) or is that a figure of speech. If she is standing, holycrap you’re getting old. Where does the time go?
My sister once saw a black man in a brown jogging suit riding a bike and proudly told my mom “look mom, there’s a horse riding a bike!” That’s one talented horse
Ellsmoyle was in the pram at the time, and yes I am getting old, thanks so much for drawing attention to it.