There’s an old song of my vintage era which I think is entitled “the things you do for love”. I have been very mindful of that during the school holidays because the grandkids have descended on my place down the Bay and chaos has pretty much ensued.
The first lot rock up and their mother can’t get shot of them quickly enough. Arguments over which room they get and which bed they sleep in, then the first raid on the fridge and complaints that there is no ‘V’ – whatever that is. Then the real battle – hey Pops, what is the wifi password. Pops indeed you little so and so’s and sorry lads the wifi is on the fritz.
Well that news goes down well – not. The reaction is something you might expect if someone was told they had to lose a leg and within ten minutes one of the delightful progeny of the fruit of my loins announces that he has to be taken home to town – the teenager reckons that there is nothing to do out here if there is no wifi. The younger brother nods furiously in agreement.
And all my initial efforts to itemise in some detail what activities can be pursued in the Bay, around the Bay and adjacent to the Bay are shouted down – no howled down because they are still loudly lamenting the absence of wifi.
But I am patient, I don’t overreact, I just speak quietly and remind them of all the fun they could have fishing, swimming, kayaking, climbing etc etc and all I hear back is that there is no wifi. Which of course is not entirely truthful – I was the first in the Bay to have satellite internet and I use it regularly. But I know these kids – let them log on and that’s all they will do for the duration of their stay.
Rather than give in too soon I decided to make them work for it and told them that the feeder cable on the hill above the Bay had come loose in a storm and if they walked up the hill – a big hill – and fixed it, internet might be restored. I offered the older bloke that he could take one of my guns with him – you never know what you might come across in the bush up the back. Off they went, single file, moaning and complaining – but at least they were out and about in the fresh air not sprawled all across my living room buried in a screen.
About an hour later I heard a shot. Another thirty minutes and two very dirty blood spattered boys appear at the back gate dragging the carcass of a good sized wild pig. Stacks of them up there Pops, can we have a feed and then we are going back for another one. That’s a no from me boys because you don’t kill any more than you can eat. They had a quick feed and I sent them off down the rocks to haul my craypot in – lobsters for dinner tonight and a pork roast tomorrow was my encouragement.
An hour later two laughing, wet boys appear in the front yard, one of them still wrestling the biggest lobster that I think has ever come out of my wire pot. They had thrown the rest back – can’t kill what you can’t eat they said. Fair enough. Still no wifi for them tonight and probably won’t be any tomorrow either. Both boys were cleaned up sitting at the table tearing legs off their lobster catch telling and retelling the day’s adventures with wild pigs and big lobsters and making plans for more of the same in the morning.
That is what growing up needs to be about eh. The real world and real things.
