Boys and their toys

I took a walk over the bridge and down to the village at lunch time today. Suddenly, coming towards me was this walking umbrella, for that’s what it looked like. The little fellow was holding the stem way up at the top, not down at the wooden bit that was the handle. The result was that I couldn’t see much of the top half of his body and from the way he was walking – like a little kid who hasn’t yet quite mastered the technique of walking without falling over – he couldn’t see much of where he was heading. Why? And it was only a very mild drizzle not enough even for granny to get out the folded-up rain hat that she kept inside its pouch in her coat pocket.

The village is well known for its cafes and nice places to eat. What do I see next? A bloke, sitting in one of the gracefully designed, wrought iron chairs placed outside for the use of the patrons, drinking from a blue carton of full cream milk through a straw. A straw!

And then there he was! A REAL man sitting on the pavement outside the garage, a few sundry tools scattered around, staring in admiration at – a very shiny miniature 50cc motor cycle. It looked a bit like this. The seat couldn’t have been more than a foot above the ground. But was he proud? He casually mentioned that the machine could take weights up to 200kg and had four gears. Wow, four gears! The 50cc moped I used to ride had no gears. Somehow the thought of this full grown man sitting on the miniature machine just made my day!

Sorry boys!