I’VE a tendency to keep a Things You Should Know (But Will Probably Pretend Not to Hear) script in my back pocket, to pre-warn new suitors of the calamities to come. Or maybe it’s so that they can enjoy a full appreciation of calamities that’ve been.
Anyway, I might only drop the odd clanger here and there, perhaps in a quiet moment on a Sunday afternoon drive, but that script’s always close to hand, and is accountable for any sudden black moods.
So I decide to get it out of my system once and for all and throw myself a full-blown Pity Party, complete with balloons and fancy drinks.
Being an impromptu event, only my friend and neighbour Helen can attend, which is good, as I need to utilise her fire-pit. Helen adds an extra dimension to my Pity Party by being so piteously hungover that she can’t get out of bed and has to moan encouragement from under the doona.
Outside, I get a cracking fire going and put up the balloons. I’ve made a list of ‘bad stuff that’s happened in my life that’s worse than stuff that’s happened in yours, surely’ and put each whingement into a red envelope.
Thar she blows.
Each one gets read, sealed and tossed on the fire, never to be mentioned for effect again. The envelope with the biggest burden bloats up in the flames, turning from red to silver, then crumbling into ashes.
The rain, which has been gently spitting, steps up its game when the last envelope has flared up, and puts out the fire.
Keeper? No.
Hey man, now you're really living 
lovely photos. sorry I could not make it. out of bed. hope it works for you. nice firepit though…