|Me and Tallulah|
We're here until Thanksgiving Day when we fly back - the cheapest way to travel, flying on holidays, as it turns out. A saving for the unsentimental. And yes, I know it seems like we're always swanning off somewhere, but there were a couple of days when I was home picking up Cy's socks (for my sins, as they say).
Getting to Manele Bay on Lana'i, off Maui, turned out to be a full-day adventure of planes, taxis and boats.
|Harley, Kevin, Cy, Tallulah and Jackson|
As with any travel we arrived grumpy and stanky and having experienced the requisite number of monumental meltdowns one would expect in a group of six - four of whom, in a show of hands, unlikely to have chosen to co-habit for 18 years. But nothing a few tootsies in the sand can't turn around. Everything here is perfect. The mangoes a rich yellow, the sand a squeaky white and.... ukulele music.
That ukulele music made me think of my brother, Tony, and I at ages 10 and 11. We enjoyed nothing more than grabbing ukuleles lying randomly around the house (as they do in most homes) singing tunelessly and strumming chordlessly "Ukulele baby! Ukulele baby!" until someone (often the neighbours) finally cracked and yelled: Stop! Bloodyhellyoukids - Stop!
A perfect soft breeze rustles the palm trees. Should be utter serenity...but I can't get that tuneless tune out of my head...
Ukulele baby! Ukulele baby!...is there any tune going round in your head this afternoon?