Makin’ Bacon

I was playing with fire at the weekend. Camping with my son, and three of my grandsons. The sort of stereo-typical male activity that is really a whole lot of fun. I don’t know whether the ladies (in general) would get such a kick out of it. Maybe they would. But I am sure that the stereotypes, like the cliches, don’t come out of nowhere. They contain truth.

Anywhere, there we were frying burgers and Makin’ Bacon. Sleeping under the stars, and imagining we were back there in a world where we went out hunting to put food on the table. And it is all imaginary of course. But it does make a fella feel more alive. Closer to nature. In tune with the universe. All of that.

As I grow older, I’d rather do more of that kind of thing than less. I simply haven’t done enough of it in my life until now, and I do get a kick out of it. I would like to be a little more self sufficient out there on the mountains and in the woods.

So, I will continue to head out to howl with non-existent wolves, and to try and make up for some of that, seemingly, lost time.

Nothing’s lost though. It’s all happening now. Or still to come.