When Uncle Wrinkle woke up he was gobsmacked by what he saw.
He stood at the window and couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“This is fantastic,” he said many times over.
Uncle Wrinkle had been asleep for fifty years and upon waking wanted to know who had won the grand final. We looked in amazement at him as no one remembered the 1968 grand final in fact most the family gathered round his bed weren’t even born then.
Uncle Wrinkle looked around his room and was immediately transfixed by the television on the wall.
There was a lot of explaining to do and a lot of news to convey like the death of his parents, his eldest brother passing away and his girlfriend at the time marrying someone else and having five children.
In the following days Uncle Wrinkle learned so much and sat for a long time looking out the window at the hurrying world. He was now seventy-eight years old. The family had registered him for the old age pension and they paid him from when he was sixty-five so he had a healthy sum to start with.
“Money!” he said, “fantastic I have some but I’d rather have someone I remember with me.”