Grandpa the Master Magician

Grandpa the Master Magician Grandpa was old and creaked like a well-worn floorboard but he always carried a smile with him which generally won the day or the situation. He had just spent time with his two grandchildren which had added fun to his morning’s recipe. They saw Grandpa as this master magician capable of producing an egg from either nostril ..…. boiled or not. An eggcellent start to any day!! Later, on an icicle of an afternoon and confronted by a presumptuous wind which blew him around street corners; he found himself happily chasing his youth. Newspaper and chocolate treat acquired he set off for the finishing line of home. He noted that the traffic lights were changing to red! So, although not at the proper crossing, his GPS i.e. Grandpa’s Priority Selector was saying…GO! GO! GO! However so was a fast-approaching Fiat 500! Grandpa felt validated by time and experience so.. he sailed forth but time and his knees didn’t agree. His legs instead of speeding up, started slowing down which was the exact opposite of the flying Fiat, driven ruthlessly by a manic-panicked driver who exaggerated a swerve around Grandpa with arms orchestrating her extremely annoyed thoughts. Grandpa tottered on oblivious to the orchestrations. He felt composed being lean, leathery and learned as opposed to the driver’s ill-fed, ill-bred, ill-mannered approach. However Grandpa, the master magician, wasn’t to be thwarted so as his feet touched pavement, his hand touched cap, then his winning smile and a flicked wave of politeness. The driver just continued with her orchestration of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony in C Minor while mouthing, “Is your brain on holiday!” However life was to offer Granpa a final judgement for as the traffic lights winked from red to green our driver was still in a boil of botheration until… a honk of reprimand from behind grabbed her attention. Frustrated she tried to floor the accelerator pedal but only succeeded in stalling the engine. The horn hoots and toots began queuing up until the Fiat 500 burnt rubber and swivel-hipped away. Grandpa’s face showed not a flicker of amusement but he allowed his bones to enjoy the moment - particularly the funny one! Then the wind giggled up, clapped him on the back and then kindly blew him gently home!