Jeg the Peg

Today

Eventually Paul just had to give in. His gronky knee wasn't even up to the level walk from our hotel to the centre of Christchurch.

So we started looking for walking sticks. After only a little searching we found a hand-made Maori stick which has little parrots with capiz shell eyes carved on it.

"Just the right height," proclaimed Paul and he's been leaning on it ever since.

In My Day

I remember when Daddy took to using a walking stick. The stick itself was quite ordinary but it soon acquired a cult status within the family. Daddy went nowhere without it. Where he went included Canada, Strasbourg, Wiesbaden, Austria, Interlaken, Hamburg, Geneva, etc, etc.

Wherever he went he bought little metal souvenirs which attached to the stick with sharp prongs. Soon his stick was weighed down with these badges of honour. We began to call it Daddy's Alpenstock. When Daddy finally became so disabled that he couldn't go further than the end of the road, the stick reminded him of all his past adventures.

Unfortunately, all that's happened with Paul is that I keep reminding him the I'm now 60 and older than him and I don't need a stick...