I miss the soccer, dancing and being active! No more Can-Can Polkas or March o'the Mods!

[Jo]

Yesterday, my camera captured the shape of my grandfather, known, in Gouda, the Netherlands, as Fat John (Dikke Jan Mul, de caféhouder.).

I'd inherited it!
What happened?
O.K.. At Wollongong Teachers College, I learned that endomorph is my body-type.
At least, I learnt the word.
I already knew I was one, because I used to go, in Gouda, with my best friend, in primary schooldays, to the gymnastics club, where the instructor always had to give me more of a lift-up to the rings, than all the other (skinny) kids.
..
I also like to blame a phone-call.
I got that, one morning, on the way to school, earlier than normal because, first I was going to give my soccer teams some training.
It was my father, via my mobile. Barely audible, telling me not to worry but he didn't feel well.
I rang the ambulance.
Did a u-turn and when I arrived back home the neighbours were in the street and the ambulance men were just getting ready to take my father to Bankstown Hospital.
..
Later, at school, there were complaints because kids had missed out on their training.
It was the time when my mother had been taken from the nursing home, to Bankstown Hospital and the registrar informed me that she did not have long.
But she did.
Dehydration.
Wrong medication.
She was returned to the nursing home.
The District Superintendent summoned me to regional ofice.
..
Decision time: Your parents v. the interests of the school.
Suggestion: Resign.
..
After being a member of the Teachers Federation, since enrolling at Wollongong Teachers College, in 1962, this became the time when I most appreciated its presence.
One of the officers there was just great support.
Just via the phone and looking after my interest.
However, after a few strange weeks, at another school, it became obvious that a somewhat early retirement was the only way.
..
The granny flat became my _nursing station_.
The iMac my companion.
And I sat a lot.
..
I was present, in the nursing home, when my mother did pass away, a few years later. (2004).
After many falls, my father, had been eligible for _high care_ for some time.
The inevitable happened and after a short stay in an unsuitable nursing home, the good news came, that he could move into the retirement village, where he is getting great care.

Yesterday, in the Tap Gallery, Darlinghurst, I briefly chatted with the current exhibitors.
Something the man said, *clicked*.
It's been said, in different ways before.
It's going to take a while to get back _out there_ again.
And do things.
My iMac will miss me!
Such a pity that I wasn't needed to assess beaches, for the first time, since 2002, this year.
On the other hand, I'm have _a ball_ getting ready for the exhibition , 6-12 October.
I could not have done both. (Assessing beaches is happening - again - right now.)

It is so often told that I was my paternal grandfather’s favourite grandchild (because I was much calmer, than the others, who ran around too much when we visited his café).
He’d put me on his lap, while playing cards with his regular customers, when we came for our regular Sunday visits.
The maternal grandfather was less impressed.
Took me fishing and discovered that I was not game to grab the little struggling fish, on his hook. Although he was quite happy to let me stand on the bridge, while he turned it, to let the ships through.