Sprung, in a nie way.

The Trouble an' Strife is back tomorrow night so I went to the local shops to get a few basics.

The hair is out of the plait and a mass of boofy curls.
The Moustache is hanging down off the lip, not waxed out to the handlebar style.
I'm in a bright yellow Hawaiian shirt and jeans.

As I walk up the ramp from the car park, there in front is an elderly, short grandmother supporting herself on, as much as pushing, a trolley.

She runs out of wind about two metres from the top so I slip my arm around her shoulder and one hand on the trolley (nice one too with wheels that ran true!) with my best Ambo voice 'How are you Grandma, let me get you to the top' while others stop and ? watch me.

She thanks me as I leave her on a seat to catch that breath and several of the watchers also make comment.

One dude walks along with me and asks,
'Your like with the Ambos?'
Yep.
'You saved my Dad!'
Now the awkward question 'Did we.How is he?'
'Oh good mate, real good your guys are great'

'Not as good as you dude, most people don't recognise me out of uniform'
'I wasn't sure until I saw you eyes. I remembered your eyes and the way you looked at my Dad as you saved him.'


As you have already guessed I have no frigging idea who this guy is or when I saw his father.
But how cosmic is that he was there at that moment and that he remembered me that well.

Humbling again how much our passion for our profession can touch others.



Be careful out there and I'll see you at the Big One.

Taz