Saturday Afternoon, 4.30
We’re at the National Non Fiction Writers Festival, and Reservoir Mum’s looking radiant after returning to our complimentary hotel room from a swim in the heated pool.
I’m running down Swanston Street towards The Wheeler Centre and there are people stopping still and staring into the distance behind me, wondering if they should start running for their lives as well, because there’s a crazy-panic in my eyes and I’m holding a backpack in front of my slightly scalded penis.
*This photo to the left was taken three years ago only proves that I've lost 'the edge'
After I had beckoned Reservoir Mum over to the computer to take a look at another email from a woman detailing her rapture for her Stay At Home Dad husband, complete with pictures, I was left feeling a little threatened, a little insecure. RM just seemed overly impressed, you know? Almost amazed at the effort this man was putting into the house and his wife and his baby.
Nothing occurs at random, but everything for a reason and by necessity. ~ Leucippus