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Paris: Postcards from the edge ...
Aug. 24th, 2004 04:05 pmI’m just heading out to the porch with a coffee when the post arrives. I wave at Marty as he takes off down the steps, and strides off down the track. Must be one fit guy with this post route!
The Brat is already snuffling around the envelopes when I get there, and I give her head a scratch which makes her turn her attention to my toes so I can pick up the mail. Opening the door, we both head towards the chairs. After I flop down, she launches herself onto my knee and squirms around until she’s comfortable and I can begin to sort through the mail. I decided to let my family know that I’d be living in Wellie for, well, for the foreseeable future I suppose, and Mom and Dad wrote me last week. Long and rambling, telling me everything that’s happened to everyone over the past 6 months, even to relations I didn’t know I had.
Two days ago, I got a postcard from Helen, who’s travelling for a while before deciding on where she wants to study. She’s in a place called Newcastle, in the North East of England, and declared it to be THE party town to be in! I’m glad she’s having a good time, but the older brother in me hopes she’s being careful. And speaking of older brothers …
A letter from Steve!! And the first thing he says is “get a cell phone!”, which makes me smile. I didn’t give them Dave’s number, just the address, knew they would be straight on the phone, and dealing with questions about why I’m here is a lot easier by mail for the moment … but as I read the letter a little further, I know I’m gonna have to answer those questions a lot sooner than I thought. Steve’s coming to visit. His firm has a branch in Wellie, and he’s been asked to come down and sort out a problem. He’d said no, until he found out I was here.
I sorta didn’t want my family anywhere near here, with the shifting and stuff. Have to talk to Theo, make sure he won’t put in any unexpected appearances. But it will be so good to see my bro again. Must be two years at least … memories of the Hero parade make me grin. Now that’s something I haven’t told Dave about, and I hope to God that Steve doesn’t bring the photos he took. He swore he’d keep them safe in case he ever needed to blackmail me into something!
I stick the letter down the side of the chair to read again later, and check out the rest of the mail. There are a couple of circulars, the phone bill, and a postcard.
The picture is a map of the North Island, with a route marked in red on it, from Wellie to the Coromandel Peninsula. I turn it over, and it’s addressed to Dave, and all it says is "Can you get away, baby?” with a date. I snort with laughter, then a little concern creeps in. So some mad fan wants Dave to meet her at this resort place, but the card’s come here, so someone has ferreted out his home address, which can’t be a good thing. What with this, and the stalker that was killed the other night, I just wish Dave would take more care. What if Faramir hadn’t shifted in time? Or that other guy hadn’t turned up?
Brat squirms on my knee, and I get the hint. I finish up my coffee, drop the mail back inside the house and pull my boots on before heading off into the woods with our little red terror. I swear she gets the same look on her face as Dave when I try to get her to stop doing something she shouldn’t. Not that I often want him to stop doing stuff …
A bark gets my attention back, and I laugh as she throws herself into a pile of leaves, and tries to chase each one as they fall around her. I walk past her and pat my leg, and she follows me off into the trees. I just know she’s gonna find something nasty to roll in before we get back. Thinking of that postcard again reminds me of something I haven’t done in a while. Every time I stopped somewhere, there was one person I always sent a postcard to.
Soon as I get the brat settled at home, I’ll nip into Wellie and find the most hideous card I can to send to Mir …
The Brat is already snuffling around the envelopes when I get there, and I give her head a scratch which makes her turn her attention to my toes so I can pick up the mail. Opening the door, we both head towards the chairs. After I flop down, she launches herself onto my knee and squirms around until she’s comfortable and I can begin to sort through the mail. I decided to let my family know that I’d be living in Wellie for, well, for the foreseeable future I suppose, and Mom and Dad wrote me last week. Long and rambling, telling me everything that’s happened to everyone over the past 6 months, even to relations I didn’t know I had.
Two days ago, I got a postcard from Helen, who’s travelling for a while before deciding on where she wants to study. She’s in a place called Newcastle, in the North East of England, and declared it to be THE party town to be in! I’m glad she’s having a good time, but the older brother in me hopes she’s being careful. And speaking of older brothers …
A letter from Steve!! And the first thing he says is “get a cell phone!”, which makes me smile. I didn’t give them Dave’s number, just the address, knew they would be straight on the phone, and dealing with questions about why I’m here is a lot easier by mail for the moment … but as I read the letter a little further, I know I’m gonna have to answer those questions a lot sooner than I thought. Steve’s coming to visit. His firm has a branch in Wellie, and he’s been asked to come down and sort out a problem. He’d said no, until he found out I was here.
I sorta didn’t want my family anywhere near here, with the shifting and stuff. Have to talk to Theo, make sure he won’t put in any unexpected appearances. But it will be so good to see my bro again. Must be two years at least … memories of the Hero parade make me grin. Now that’s something I haven’t told Dave about, and I hope to God that Steve doesn’t bring the photos he took. He swore he’d keep them safe in case he ever needed to blackmail me into something!
I stick the letter down the side of the chair to read again later, and check out the rest of the mail. There are a couple of circulars, the phone bill, and a postcard.
The picture is a map of the North Island, with a route marked in red on it, from Wellie to the Coromandel Peninsula. I turn it over, and it’s addressed to Dave, and all it says is "Can you get away, baby?” with a date. I snort with laughter, then a little concern creeps in. So some mad fan wants Dave to meet her at this resort place, but the card’s come here, so someone has ferreted out his home address, which can’t be a good thing. What with this, and the stalker that was killed the other night, I just wish Dave would take more care. What if Faramir hadn’t shifted in time? Or that other guy hadn’t turned up?
Brat squirms on my knee, and I get the hint. I finish up my coffee, drop the mail back inside the house and pull my boots on before heading off into the woods with our little red terror. I swear she gets the same look on her face as Dave when I try to get her to stop doing something she shouldn’t. Not that I often want him to stop doing stuff …
A bark gets my attention back, and I laugh as she throws herself into a pile of leaves, and tries to chase each one as they fall around her. I walk past her and pat my leg, and she follows me off into the trees. I just know she’s gonna find something nasty to roll in before we get back. Thinking of that postcard again reminds me of something I haven’t done in a while. Every time I stopped somewhere, there was one person I always sent a postcard to.
Soon as I get the brat settled at home, I’ll nip into Wellie and find the most hideous card I can to send to Mir …
