Day 34. 84,678 words.
Bit of an uneventful day, was Day 8. We went to the rivermouth again, and I foolishly climbed the Rabbit Hill again, this time on nothing more than a cup of coffee earlier that morning, and moderate-to-acute dehydration from the bout of the runs I’d gone through the day before.
I didn’t quite have a medical emergency, but I did need to have a bit of a lie-down once I got to the top. Bracing.
We hit the Margaret River bakery for lunch, and since this was one of the first solidly warm days we’d enjoyed so far (it was approaching 30ºC), we decided to spend some time in the bakery’s un-airconditioned corrugated iron semi-outdoor section. Which was … actually quite pleasant, as long as you just sat there and occasionally took a bite of meat pie or a sip of juice.
Clockwise from left: Toop, cousin Lily, cousin Ruby, Wump. Classic.
After this, Mrs. Hatboy and I headed over to my brother-in-law John’s place with Wump and Toop for a late Christmas celebration and right-on-time New Year’s Eve drink. Had a pleasant afternoon and evening meal, then left the girls there with their cousins for a sleep-over.
I have it on good authority that while we were all in bed and asleep by 22:00pm, the girls stayed up until midnight, waved some New Year’s Eve sparklers around, then stayed up until 02:00am watching movies. An excellent innings.
I’m not often driven to introspection or reflection, but the question does come up sometimes. The big question. So big, there’s just no containing it within the puny boundaries of a single set of punctuationary bookends.
Who are these mysterious and unsung heroes of obscurity and shadow? What is their origin story? Do they have a prequel trilogy? What are their secret identities? What are their public identities, for that matter? What are their powers? Their abilities? Their haunted pasts and troubled futures? Their modus operandi? Where do they live anyway, and when? What do they do for a living? Do they really have these fantastical adventures, or is it a dazzlingly intellectual and overwrought metaphor? Or is it perhaps a smug and post-modern sort of metaphor? Is it a plain stupid metaphor, hedged around with thick wads of plausible deniability, a soap bubble of illusory plot dependent upon readers who don’t dare question it for fear of looking foolish? A flight of fancy, having dozed off in front of the television during an episode of something suitably spaceship-oriented? Do they have a quest, a handler, a mission statement, a department-level development objective in five stages?
I am Hatboy.
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