|Image by Tamara Barns.|
Saturday afternoon, we stepped through the gates of a local football oval and felt like we'd stepped back in time. People were rugged up in royal blue, sitting on the hill, sipping from cans of KB. Kids were running around having the time of their life, chasing the blue clad man on the bike. The Newton Jets hit the field up against a tough opponent. "The $10 million team versus the 10 bob team," the old school announcer said.
A group of old mates sat on the damp ground of the hill scoffing sausage rolls and friands. And laughing. And laughing. Kicking a ball at half time. Cheering as the final hooter rang out and the local team, the underdogs, clinched the game.
We moved on to the pub and there was more laughter.
We moved on to the restaurant and there was even more laughter. The kind of laughter where your stomach hurts, your cheeks are tear-stained and you throw your hands up in surrender saying "No more!". The laughter kept on until the busy restaurant had cleared and the staff sat at another table watching us.
The type of laughter that you only have when a bunch of old friends get together. The type of laughter that feeds your soul.
How was your weekend?