The Pipi Master

In the lead up to my exhibition and book launch in a few weeks, I thought I would do another post with a salty sea theme. This one is a little different from the usual post I do here in this space- a short story, a work of fiction. Each year our local paper runs a summer short story award, and in 2017 I was a finalist with this story. The rules are simple. Write 1000 words based on one of the pictures given to spark the creative goodness, and in doing just that, comes The Pipi Master. (click-through to the link for the associated picture.)

The Pipi Master

Gran said she’d be back in half an hour. Stopping half way down the sandy walk way she turned back though, ‘you sure you’ll be ok up there by yourself?’

It was the third time she’d asked, so instead of giving her a bunch of reassuring words like he’d done the other times he waved her away with a smile, walking further up the headland. She knew where he’d be, up the top, looking out over the beach. He would be able to see her, and she him. Except he didn’t need to keep tabs on her like she did. He was free to do as he pleased, as long as he stayed within sight.

At 11 years old he thought he could have been given a little more elbowroom, but she was his Gran, and he didn’t want her to feel bad. Besides he wasn’t going anywhere. Just going to hangout out, maybe Kody would swing by in a little bit on his bike and then they’d all go home together. Kody was 15 and obviously didn’t feel quite so bad about hurting Gran’s feelings by not hanging out with her all afternoon. Kody had been able to go surfing with his mates down at Smashing Rock for most of the day. Gone for hours now, but he knew he had to be back to meet them before the sun went down.

That was the rule.

He lay down across the posts. Not the most comfortable place to be, but he could feel the late afternoon sun on his back, and still watch the water to his front. Half closing his eyes listening to the waves crash.

Tide was coming in now. Squinting and craning his neck round a bit further he tried to see whether the shack he’d been trying to put together a few days ago with Kody was still there. They’d spent ages finding old logs and sticks that had been washed up along the beach to build a little shelter for Gran to sit in. She didn’t seem that keen on sitting though, said she was happy enough standing on the edge letting the waves lick at her feet while she threw a line in. Fishing mad she was. Any opportunity to get the fishing line out and she would. Sometimes she’d catch some whoppers, other times he thought she just wanted to get her feet wet and have some thinking time. Gran had told him once when they’d stood together waiting with her reel, that fishing on the beach was a good time for conversations that were too hard around the dinner table…and was also a good time for thinking, she’d said almost to herself. He hadn’t anything big to tell her, but he nodded, and she seemed to think that was ok.

That’s what she was doing now. Well not really fishing, but seeing if there were any pipis in the sand for tomorrow. She’d wait for the wave to pull back, leaving the tell tale bubbles in the sand of the pipis below. In her hand would dive to grab them, then she’d throw them into her red plastic bucket. ‘Not too many,’ she would say when he go down with her. ‘Never too many, we don’t want to be greedy do we… Just enough for tomorrows catch eh love.’

He used to enjoy doing that with her; she called him the Master of Pipis. It was something his mum and dad never seemed to get time to do lately. Always at work, they’d barely even come down to the beach this summer. If it wasn’t for Gran, these school holidays would have been dead boring.

He shifted his body weight a little, and nearly fell off the post. Sitting up instead, he dangled his feet over the top, hearing voices he looked back towards the carpark.

A couple of surfers had walked up to the top of the walkway and were pointing out towards the break, obviously discussing the best way to catch a few before the sun went down completely. He watched them as they started to trot down the sandy path. Surfers never seemed to walk down to the water they always needed to get a little bit of a run up. Why was that? He’d have to ask Kody, he’d know. It was like they were so excited after seeing the water they just couldn’t wait any longer.


He loved the water, loved the beach but surfing wasn’t his thing. He’d tried it a bit the summer before, but the last time he’d been a bit slow in getting over a set and had got dragged across the rocks over on the east end. Kody had yelled at him for not ducking under earlier, and dinging his precious board up but had stopped when he saw the blood gushing from the side of his head. Four stiches at JHH that had been. His mate Jimmy had been well impressed.

Gran wasn’t though and blamed herself for not keeping him safer. She’d kept a closer eye on him since then, even though that was a whole summer ago.

He could see her off in the distance. Her ridiculously big floppy hat making her easy to pick out from the rest of the late afternoon beach goers. They’d all given her that hat at Christmas as a bit of a joke. She’d worn it every day since.

Everyone was packing up now; the beach starting to empty, and his tummy was getting hungry. Maybe he’d convince Gran to stop off for some hot chips before they got home, he knew Kody would be up for some, and Gran was always pretty keen. She liked the weird shaped crunchy ones at the bottom.

He jumped off the post and started his way back down the path, maybe he’d see if Gran needed a hand finding a few more pipis, he was after all the master.

* This piece of work was originally published in The Newcastle Herald

Mrs Longbottom and her Apple Sanga’s

lunch time sandwich || cityhippyfarmgirl

It was in a small sun soaked dusty country school, thirty years before, that Mrs Longbottom* had taught. She probably should have retired ten years prior, but she hadn’t though and her young class of country folk kids were paying the price for that.

Instead she was committed to the little darlings, well at least until the end of the school year anyway.

The highlight of her long and tiring day was lunch time. Not because the pint sized ones were off running outside on the red sun baked dirt. Or because their muffled childish shouts were a little more muted when they hid within the pepper tree’s branches.

But because she really enjoyed eating her lunch.

Each day, it would be exactly the same thing, no matter what. Fresh white bread, thinly sliced crispy apple, thickly sliced cheddar cheese and walnut halves.

With an enthusiasm unmatched in the rest of her day, she would eat that sandwich. With walnut crumbs gently retrieved and her last mouthfuls slowly savoured.

Lunch time indeed was the best part of the day.

lunch time || cityhippyfarmgirl

Reinvented Apple and Cheese Sanga

(one to make a teacher look forward to lunch, and *not her real name.)

the best sourdough bread you can find

the best crispiest seasonal apple in all the lands

caramelised onions

and your favourite tasty cheese