Mabel, Ken, Kerri
Nov. 19th, 2008 12:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
skyringThursday I picked up Ken Haley's mother from the bus terminal. I've mentioned Ken briefly in passing. He's the most fascinating person ever to get into my cab. Paraplegic, he travels in a folding wheelchair.
And when I say travel, I mean it. He travels, alone, in the sort of fringe Asian, Middle-Eastern, African and Eastern European countries that most tourists stay well away from. Like South Ossetia.
He's written one book, and is bringing out another. I've read the first, and passed it on as a BookCrossing gift to a fellow traveller, but I have another copie that I'm keeping.
For some reason, he likes me. Possibly because I laugh at his jokes. He's a newspaper sub-editor, and his sense of humour is manic, his wordplay inventive and unending and he just plays a tune on the laugh centres in my brain. Possibly because I go to a bit of trouble to park the cab so he can get in and out with minimum fuss. Possibly because I'm a travel nut - though not in his league. Central Park scares me, let alone Central Asia.
We parked at the bus terminal, had a cup of coffee while waiting for the bus, and then met his mother Mabel. I was expecting a frail old lady, given the age bracket Ken had indicated, but she looked more like his sister, and I told her so. We hit it off immediately - she's a real sweetie.
Saturday, Kerri and I drove Ken and Mabel around Canberra, stopping at various locations. In the graveyard at St Johns in Reid, she surprised me by clearing weeds away from the grave of a child, about a century old, "accidentally drowned".
I bent down to help her and we had the job done soon enough. She snaffled a few cuttings from plants on the graves, which Kerri potted up for her.
The National Gallery was a treat - we looked around at the modern galleries, had a light meal, and I snapped a photograph while they were coming down the ramp. The gallery is a place I love, with its complex and spectacular interior spaces, covered with extraordinary works of art in all directions. It's a feast.
We checked out the embassy district, and Mabel insisted on a photo outside the American Embassy, which is pretty well fortified these days.
Sunday, I mostly slept.
Monday and the car wouldn't start, so it had to be toad in to the workshop. I picked it up at six-thirty (I had changed out of my uniform and was cooking dinner when the call came) and did a short shift.
Tuesday I collected Ken and Mabel in the morning, taking them to the bus station, where we saw Mabel off. Hugs all round. She was wearing an "Obama 08" button in her cap, which Ken had scrounged from the election day party hosted by the American Embassy.
She and Ken are my rare delight - passengers who have become friends.
I've given up on NaNoWriMo. I know it's quantity over quality, and i know I could do it - even now with twelve days to go - but I've recognised that sometimes I can tell a story well, and I don't know the whole story yet. I'd like to have a stab at writing this one down and doing it handsome, not as a hurry.
I'm contemplating Moo business cards for the cab. I like my pictures, and every now and then a passenger will make a comment on one, or express an interest in reading my taxior travel blogs, and it would be nice to have a stock of some of the best images available with my details.
Jessica the Bombay kitten escaped again yesterday, and returned in the company of a tomcat, covered in saliva. We fear the worst.
And when I say travel, I mean it. He travels, alone, in the sort of fringe Asian, Middle-Eastern, African and Eastern European countries that most tourists stay well away from. Like South Ossetia.
He's written one book, and is bringing out another. I've read the first, and passed it on as a BookCrossing gift to a fellow traveller, but I have another copie that I'm keeping.
For some reason, he likes me. Possibly because I laugh at his jokes. He's a newspaper sub-editor, and his sense of humour is manic, his wordplay inventive and unending and he just plays a tune on the laugh centres in my brain. Possibly because I go to a bit of trouble to park the cab so he can get in and out with minimum fuss. Possibly because I'm a travel nut - though not in his league. Central Park scares me, let alone Central Asia.
We parked at the bus terminal, had a cup of coffee while waiting for the bus, and then met his mother Mabel. I was expecting a frail old lady, given the age bracket Ken had indicated, but she looked more like his sister, and I told her so. We hit it off immediately - she's a real sweetie.
Saturday, Kerri and I drove Ken and Mabel around Canberra, stopping at various locations. In the graveyard at St Johns in Reid, she surprised me by clearing weeds away from the grave of a child, about a century old, "accidentally drowned".
I bent down to help her and we had the job done soon enough. She snaffled a few cuttings from plants on the graves, which Kerri potted up for her.
The National Gallery was a treat - we looked around at the modern galleries, had a light meal, and I snapped a photograph while they were coming down the ramp. The gallery is a place I love, with its complex and spectacular interior spaces, covered with extraordinary works of art in all directions. It's a feast.
We checked out the embassy district, and Mabel insisted on a photo outside the American Embassy, which is pretty well fortified these days.
Sunday, I mostly slept.
Monday and the car wouldn't start, so it had to be toad in to the workshop. I picked it up at six-thirty (I had changed out of my uniform and was cooking dinner when the call came) and did a short shift.
Tuesday I collected Ken and Mabel in the morning, taking them to the bus station, where we saw Mabel off. Hugs all round. She was wearing an "Obama 08" button in her cap, which Ken had scrounged from the election day party hosted by the American Embassy.
She and Ken are my rare delight - passengers who have become friends.
I've given up on NaNoWriMo. I know it's quantity over quality, and i know I could do it - even now with twelve days to go - but I've recognised that sometimes I can tell a story well, and I don't know the whole story yet. I'd like to have a stab at writing this one down and doing it handsome, not as a hurry.
I'm contemplating Moo business cards for the cab. I like my pictures, and every now and then a passenger will make a comment on one, or express an interest in reading my taxior travel blogs, and it would be nice to have a stock of some of the best images available with my details.
Jessica the Bombay kitten escaped again yesterday, and returned in the company of a tomcat, covered in saliva. We fear the worst.
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no subject
Date: 2008-11-19 02:31 am (UTC)I really like it that he and his mother have become friends with you and Kerri!
no subject
Date: 2008-11-19 03:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-19 08:44 am (UTC)And as for Jessica - it doesn't sound good!
no subject
Date: 2008-11-19 08:52 am (UTC)Sounds as if you'll have lots of little Jessicas.
no subject
Date: 2008-11-19 11:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-19 11:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-19 01:17 pm (UTC)A friend of mine uses them as a test. Her cards all mean something to her in an emotional way. She offers them up and watches to see what each person picks. She feels that it gives her some insight to the person and how they will relate to her.
no subject
Date: 2008-11-19 05:59 pm (UTC)Kittens
Date: 2008-11-23 12:53 pm (UTC)Jen