It’s not the normal activity around a campfire, but it was still fun! It wasn’t exactly a “fight,” more of a bit of a bonding moment. It seems women and mothers just don’t understand how men can find it “fun” to have a good wrestle every so often.

C.’s 20 year old son K. visited us for a week, and we took him up to the trailer. I enjoy K.’s company – he’s a great kid and we’ve shared a few laughs together and both of us love the Toronto Maple Leafs even though we have little hope of seeing a Stanley Cup in the next few years. It’s disheartening to watch our beloved Leafs year after year.

Anyhow, K. and I were sitting around the campfire, talking about life, music and the wonderful fact that the Irish invented whiskey. There were very few people in the park and those that were there were a long way off. None of the close neighbours were at their trailers, so we really didn’t have to worry much about noise.  We didn’t even really make all that much noise, unless you count K. learning the Scott Clan battle cry and enjoying it. A few shouts of “A Bellendean” after a wee sip of whiskey.

At some point, there were some “fighting words” (all in fun of course), and the next thing we were having a wee wrestle on the ground.  Now, I’m about 195 lbs and have 15 over K. but…  back in the day, about 15 years ago when I was in good shape, I was 180. So the weight advantage shouldn’t really go to me. Plus, my tendons and muscles are not just as flexible as they used to be. In the end, it was probably a “no decision.” Both of us had dirty clotlhes.

We brushed ourselves off, laughed, shook hands, had another sip of whiskey with a shout of “A Bellendean!” and headed to bed.

It was a good campfire!

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