Trundling along

It was a fairly cool but bright morning, the kind where the blue sky is still visible beyond a veil of wispy cloud. A perfect morning for a walk by MacRitchie reservoir.

MacRitchie reservoir is an old friend to me. I remember staying in a flat located just a stone's throw away. As a child, my mother would bring me to the reservoir as a special treat if I had finished all my morning milk. We would bring along any stale bread in the house and feed the terrapins from the wooden zig-zag bridge that spanned the corner of the artificial lake. I remember the fountain that sent a jet of water shooting up high into the sky, and the giant flower clock with the broken mechanism that was planted on the side of a hill.

Now, there are large signs near the zig-zag bridge advising visitors not to feed the terrapins and fish lest they grow bloated and lazy. The fountain is still there, and it captured Stardust's attention; he laughed excitedly to see the droplets dancing on the wind, then falling to make big circles on the surface of the water.

I forgot to bring along Stardust's stroller, but it did not really matter because he was happy to stumble drunkenly along the pavement, with one hand clinging firmly to my index finger and the other hand outstretched, the better to conduct the invisible orchestra.

There were a surprising number of students around, exercising before the start of school. Dressed in their gym attire with school crests prominently displayed, they took turns sprinting round the path alongside the lake, then walking across the zig-zag bridge back to the starting point. Some of them were obviously training for school competitions - they ran like gingered up greyhounds, faces intensely screwed up and mouths puckered. Others appeared to have been dragged along as unwilling participants in a P.E. torturefest - they loped like sodden ragdolls with mouths open and arms swinging listlessly by their sides. Stardust attempted to cheer them on by applauding with gusto, but it only seemed to make their shoulders sag even further.

We were approached by a friendly but incontinent Sheltie dog, whose urinary frequency required his frustrated owner (who was trying unsuccessfully to do some jogging) to stop at every single tree, bush, and blade of grass. Stardust patted his fur cautiously, then scuttled hastily behind my knees as the dog turned his black and gold head to inspect him. From his hiding place, he tugged at my trousers with one hand and waved the dog away imperiously with the other.

The sun came up higher and Stardust's hair quickly frizzed into sweaty curls. It was getting much too hot and Stardust's little legs were getting more wobbly by the minute, so I whisked him off home for a cold drink and a nap.