Beauty & The Beak

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He’s a clumsy bugger. Vigorous, but awkward, tossing meat and cheese everywhere when he rummages for the right piece to eat. Ungainly is a good word for him. I’m not precisely sure what gainly looks like, but he certainly ain’t it. But he’s alive. Very much so and against all the odds.

When I got back to Brisbane after Easter in Canberra he was there, and the growth over his eye seemed to have broken away, or been scraped off. The scales having fallen he could see both sides, but the lump on his beak limited his forward vision, so he couldn’t give me that meaningful look that Crookfoot does when she fixes me square on. A look Catherine would have described as ‘old-fashioned’. Then a week or two later the horrible growths on his feet were gone, and he’d slimmed down and was more mobile, if not more graceful. Then, this week, the lump on his beak has dried out and gone, leaving just a scarred patch.

The Beak is Back!

He’s now a ferociously driven young bird, full of testosterone and noise, doing very nicely thank you. Which is very touching, and a miracle unexpected.

Oh, and I’m engaged by the way.

To be married.

Which is quite a surprise.

It’s a very Harry met Sally tale. We’ve known each other twenty-two years, and met when we were both married. Since then we’ve both been divorced, remarried and divorced again. Or in my case, widowed. And we’ve been closer in the last year or two again, but not expecting much more. Until about three months ago. When we were together ‘unchaperoned’ as my fiancée put it. Which apparently was the magic word. Because it was clear that that was what it took for the scales to fall from our eyes. Although, no doubt, Ellen was more aware of things than I. I am a man, after all.

Anyway, one thing led to another, and love and lust rekindled.

So this last weekend, after weeks of phone calls and tentative exploring of possible futures, including, perhaps, the likelihood of living ‘contiguously’ being discussed, we met again. And I proposed. And she accepted. Which is where the Beauty part comes in. Because she is very beautiful, and very wonderful, and I am madly in love with her. Green eyes and soft skin, dark hair and quite the figure.

And she smells wonderful.

And tastes even better.

And the whole world is changing very fast around us. My daughter, Ellen, will be 21 in three months, and will be setting up a home of her own. She announced to me that she has no desire to leave Brisbane, and won’t come to Canberra to live with us. Which, while obviously heartbreaking for a loving father such as myself, does mean that Ellen S, my intended, betrothed, soon-to-be-wife, and significant other and I will be able to live like newlyweds. So I’ll be moving to Canberra before the end of the year, to live happily ever after, and write and write and write.

By the way, did I mention I’m in love?

By the other way, in case you’re wondering, my daughter Ellen was in part named after Ellen S, my affianced. But this won’t cause as much confusion as you might think. Because I usually call Ellen (daughter of mine) Nell. Which, coincidentally is Ellen (my affianced’s) grown-up daughter’s name. But my daughter Nell spells it as Ellen backwards, that is, as Nelle. And Nell (my soon-to-be-daughter by marriage) is currently answering to Nellie. Which I haven’t called my (daughter) Nell in weeks.

So, couldn’t be simpler.

Except for my father, whose mother’s name was Ellen.

But he’s deaf in one ear.

Did I mention the ‘I’m in love’ thing?

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