Today is an auspicious day. The Husband celebrates his threescore and ten. A happy day.
Another happy day, earlier this year was that leisurely trip to town, when I had the camera in hand. When we go into town, it’s usually in haste, with little time to stop, walk on to the bridge and appreciate the river which is so much the essence of our valley.
So, on our way back to the village, we stopped by the river.
We spent some time on the bridge, staring into the algal world below.
Valleys, plateaux and the odd, lazy fish that reminded The Husband of childhood weekends, sixty or so years ago.
On a Friday afternoon, he and his mates would take to their bikes and depart the family’s Bulawayo smallholding, heading for the local dam. Armed with just bread and the odd potato, perhaps an onion and rudimentary cooking and fire-making gear; no tent, they whiled away the weekend, eating what they fished and returned home, hungry and dirty late on Sunday.
Then we headed home, reminiscing of times when life was much simpler, lamenting how things have changed.
Less than a month later, we went to see Albert Hammond in concert, for him to make the point that his “Down by the River” was one of the earliest songs (1972) to raise awareness of the dangers of pollution to the environment. How little humanity has learned in the last forty-odd years.
P S: For my Gib-based blogpal: did you know that Hammond has connections to your part of the world?
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