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The rules of engagement
The rules were simple for the world pillow fighting championships, held last Sunday in London. The last person standing would be the winner and pillows were not to be filled with bricks or other sharp objects. As challengers, the Moodie children were to be treated as one, meaning both had to be knocked off their feet for them to lose.
It seemed unfair, two on one, but I fought on bravely. Ali was first down, felled by a single blow to the back of the legs, later unfairly claiming there had been cheating involved. Next down, Marty, as Samira clobbered him unexpectedly from behind with a blow from a pillow clearly filled with books and other hard objects. It was over, the fight an honourable draw.
We head back to Germany today, leaving behind our generous hosts in Ealing, the Moodies and their delightful children. We arrived with 8 pounds each a fortnight ago and leave still with seven pounds and 85 pence apiece, having eaten them out of house and home and systematically worked our way through the wine cellar. Other treats have included Italian and Egyptian restaurants (right near the famous Ealing Studios), the rugby, and, yesterday, Anousheh took Kaelene to the Tate Modern while we blokes snoozed on the couch. We saw squirrels in the back yard, but missed the foxes fighting the other night in the front garden in the pouring rain. We found the Oxfam second hand record shop by Ealing Green, and Primark, the new and proudly proclaimed ethical-trade department store. Ethical, that is until they were exposed on TV as buying from sweat-shop manufacturers.
We have a pattern when we visit places. It is to fritter away much of our time leaving so many things still to be done and seen. This trip is no exception; we’ll just have to come back.