Ach away…
I’ve seen my dad mow the lawn a thousand times. Usually my brothers and I were waiting in the wings to play football on the freshly-cut theatre of dreams it created. My dad was usually a bit grumpy about this. Apparently our excessive footballing had created patches where grass was now impossible to cultivate. There…
Bag head
In my early years, it wasn’t too long before I became aware of a polarisation of the people who lived where I lived. Firstly, there was us. Good living country folk. Then there were townies. They seemed to play differently. They were the Tom Sawyer to our Huckleberry Finn. We spent summers picking potatoes and…
Say hello!
A Patchwork Province