Entering the Cave

20 Nov

One can always rely on the eccentricities of my family members rather than maintain the faith in something as silly as Melways or the White Pages. Don’t know your Uncle’s house number? Just cruise up and down the street until you see a hulking ute with a soft toy trussed to its grill as the weeds and grass cower. Works everytime. Give it a few seconds and out will stumble Cave Thing, looking more at home were he upstream swatting at spawning salmon than take a spot of tea. As to the origin of our need to persecute the plushy, well, I have no idea either.

We went to visit Cave Thing today to drop off a portable DVD player to entertain him while he sits through the four-hour chemo sessions. Cave Thing is the sort that doesn’t play well with technology (unless it is hydroponic or home-brew-related) and is famously quoted as saying “I’ve joined the 20th Century: I have a DVD player”. This was said in 2003.

Anyway, he gave us freshly brewed tea that was so strong it should be placed on the banned substances list with FIFA. Honestly, my testicles nearly beat up my ovaries and descended.

Additionally, we were telling him about the seagull’s performance at a wedding the previous day. As per the photo above (in which the Husband and his doppleganger steadfastly refused to fight to the death), she eschewed the kompany of kiddies to rock out by the speakers and dance like a loon to Public Enemy, Eric B & Rakim, Malcolm MacLaren and AC/DC. Cave Thing mused on the similarities between her and I, smirked “We’ll see” and brought out an early Christmas present for her: a microphone.

My father was so insistent on encouraging my musical abilities as a child he bought me a proper microphone (i.e. expensive and professional quality) for my fourth birthday. This was because by then I was continually singing into everyday objects: taps, hair brushes, the winder on the clothes line, spray cans, etc. Thankfully Cave Thing’s pressie is a toy one.

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