On Sunday arvo I caught up with k. and d. who are back on holiday from Ghana. They were having an afternoon tea to celebrate baby t.'s first birthday. k. and I retired upstairs to chew the fat. After 15 minutes or so of peaceful gossiping we were interrupted by some young blighter who was asking, with trembling lower lip, when the cake was going to be produced. k. had completely forgotten about the gateau and rushed downstairs to arrange candles and singing. The anklebiter pranced happily at her heels and she said to the little fellow, her voice filled with gratitude, "It's a good thing you're on the game."
After the children had all been arranged prettily on the grass and had dutifully sung happy birthday, the cake needed cutting. d. emerged from the kitchen brandishing a glistening blade that looked like prop from a horror movie and asked, "Who wants to play with the knife?" "Me!" was the chorus from the crowd of young butchers.
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