I do love the wind. It gives an excellent excuse, if you need one that is, why your hair is just a big old mess. I am aware that in reality I look like shit, but in my mind I have the deluded image of some wind swept babe on a beach chomping up some choccie and slurping down a gallon of champers, all of course with the utmost grace and decorum.
I have been letting my hair grow, for no other reason than it has been easier to manage through all the shit of the last 6 months. Pull it back into a band and call it done. I reckon blow drying might well be a thing of the past. The wind today will be a good substitute! It will whip hair around to caress my neck and the rise and fall of it will be all very sensual. (I know the reality..... whipped into a frenzie, hair slapping my eyes, getting caught in my mouth and those shitful knots will be a killer....I know. I am just enjoying the delusion.)
But I do love the wind.
When it is running from the north as it is today, the traffic noise is taken off to the fairies and the water in the canal and the pool sparkles and moves. The sand at the beach is hurled around at warp speed, licking off skin and the blue bottles arrive for a stinging visit.
I do love the wind.
It sort of slows everything down a bit and so it feels almost like holidays. Oh I know, everyday is a holiday here, but it reminds me of childhood hols with my dad, fishing (I always hated fishing!) or better still sailing ( I did love sailing that old wooden tubbed boat, TIKU) I loved being there with him in the wind.
I really think Dad and I were the only ones that loved her. The old woman would go into melt down at the thought of going out for the day, far worse if a weekend was planned. She would sit in the airless cabin and complain of stomach upset or other such illness. The brother was always nervous about anytime in close proximity to Dad and the sister couldn’t swim so was terrified of being on the water.
Dad and I loved the adventure! On one particularly auspicious afternoon we were travelling home across Moreton Bay and the wind had really picked up. The motor was once again kaput so we were under sail. The others were in the cabin and Dad and I were enjoying the wind in our hair. The old girl leaned and leaned and leaned and then without a life jacket in sight I clearly heard Dad yell above the noise and the madness, ‘Oh we are gone this time!!’
Well we didn’t go. That little boat was like the Little Engine that Could, ‘I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.’ We made it home in one piece, Dad and I exhilarated and the others shattered. I am not sure, but it wouldn’t surprise me if that was the last time the old woman ever stepped foot on old TIKU.
I think the wind always makes me feel like an adventure is possible.