My name is Ricky Gear. Not Richard Gere, though it sounds similar.
No, I'm not a movie star, I'm not rich, and I don't live in Hollywood neither. Believe it or not, I'm a professional drifter: I'm a hot air balloon driver, I float about for a living. Been doing it for a long time, too, and don't see myself getting tired of it anytime soon. Well, not if I can help it, anyway - my doctor is starting to make noises about my heart, a man my age, and all that. And I guess he's half right; wouldn't want to have a couple of honeymooners up with me and the old pump gives out. For me, I can't think of a better way to go, and that's the truth, but if something happened to my passengers, I couldn't live with myself. Get it?
Anyway, if he comes back with anything more than just my age, I'll give it a good long think. Won't say that maybe it'd be a good thing, 'cause it won't. But I guess the local G.C.s would like it - that's a group of kids who do geocaching, and we've made it a competitive thing. There's no prizes, but we keep a league table. Kids love it, and I'm not running out of ideas for new and interesting hidey-holes. Besides that stuff, I'd get to build that hen-house and keep me some chickens. Can't remember when's the last time I had a proper free-range omelette. That'd be nice.
So that's me, and that's my day. It's not very interesting, though, so I'll tell you about a different day.
I'll tell you about my perfect day.
Gear / Chest / Heart / Balloon / Timer
No comments:
Post a Comment