Of late, Adolf walks four km to the Sunday morning market and buys a three kg bag of mandarins from the grower who drives down from the Riverlands 200km each week. Adolf then walks home by a different route - six km. A very pleasant morning with no time constraints - just a steady 6 kph.
Last week, on the return voyage in the section which adjoins a meandering stream, there were three kookaburras sitting in a tree alongside the walking track, chuckling to each other, as they do. Today, about 500m before the kookaburra meeting place, a slightly different sound floated out on the sabbath morning.
A loud, shrill and raucous female voice could be heard coming from a house about sixty metres away.
"F*** you f****** kids.......................f*** ................f******.......and so on and so forth.
The head belonging to the voice venting at the two boys aged about eight and ten who were throwing scraps to the birds in the front yard emerged from the front door with associated increase in decibels. Next, the carcase attached to the face emerged and the tirade continued.
Adolf could not help himself.
"Do you mind, lady? You've got a voice like a bloody fog horn!"
To which the shouted reply was "It's my fuckin' house, I'll do what I like in it."
"Well you don't own the road and the river so will you please stay inside?"
Dear readers, I ask you.
What chance have those poor bloody kids of growing up to become worthwhile citizens, making a contribution to society?
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