Tuesday 5th June 2018
Below represents morning number 3 at Saronida on the balcony our favourite spot in the morning. It’s Tuesday and we’ve got thirty minutes before the sxolikō arrives which means shoveling two eggs and buttery vegemite bread down the child’s throat. Eggs must be soft with yolks runny. Crusty bread must have a chewy yeasty heart. Butter must be quality Greek or French. Milk these days can only be organic goats.
Erroll is so hands on with the little scamp but so so sweet that shoes and socks are never on feet. I often intervene with threats that include no pool in the afternoon. That does the trick getting that cake hole wide open and shoes over socked feet.
Holding hands with his daddy is a favourite show of affection, one which Kingsley rarely shows me. But I understand – hanging with daddy is a treasure for the child. He even showed off daddy at school pick up waving madly to him (‘Ba-bāh, BA-bĀH!) as Miss Xristina closed the doors of the school bus…