March 17th, 2008
That Great American Pastime
I remember once as a young child being at my aunt’s house near Dunoon. At that age, their huge back garden might as well have been the whole world as I launched every stone I found into the air with my slingshot; only later learning that the next door neighbour - whose garden didn’t exist to me thanks to high hedges and trees - had a greenhouse. It’s my earliest memory of… I want to say guilt, but I think a more accurate though less elegant way of putting it would be “oh s***!”.


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