The Glebe Writing 22/08/2017

At the end of every term, of every lunchtime, of every morning tea we would grab our bikes and bike out to the glebe. We would find the perfect place by the bike path, with heaps of sticks and little pine cones to build our cafe. We would yell out to each other:

“Someone get the pinecones?”

“OK, I will!”

“Get the little sticks that were at that good place we normally get them from!”

“Someone already is!”

We would carry on yelling out to each other until we got everything we needed. Sometimes we already had the stuff from the previous day. We sorted them into piles, once we got everything. We had everything you ‘could’ get from a cafe! Like the coffee; the hot chocolate; the tea; the chocolate brownie. The bikers would bike through fast, slowing down -sometimes- when the went past us. The bikers would order the food and we would quickly rush to get them there food. We would say to pay with leaves or bark. Then they would bike off coming around the next time!

Cold Water Writing 9/08/2017

This morning and this afternoon, and every other day, when the clock hits 6:10am I dive into the icy cold water. The cold water stabs me like I just dived in a pile of nails. Goosebumps raise on me, like little mountains, and my body goes rigid. I slowly pull my body through the ice bath of water; kicking my legs to keep me afloat. The clock slowly turns 11 past 6 - after what feels like forever. I am close to the wall, I tuck my head in, and I turn. My legs hit the briskly cold wall. I push off and glide into the second length of the 200 freestyle. The water warms up as I keep swimming, turning, gliding, pulling through the water.