28. Imaginery bullets, makeshift arrows – real rusted nails.

Ouch!

At No. 4.

Uncleared vacant lot, augmented with junk – recycled into forts and trenches for war.

Timber, tin sheets, wheel rims, piping, tyres.

War begins.

Run. Head for cover. Dodge imaginary bullets or makeshift arrows … AND spikes & splinters, nails & edges.

Fake left, step right. Right onto nail – through shoe.

Read Full Post »

24. Maybe I wasn’t home alone, after all … not home, not alone.

I reclaim a galleon plundered by drunken pirates,

Brawl with brutish cowboys cruelly mistreating cute indian girls.

Fight through enemy lines – a brave foot soldier with no rank –  captured, tortured – eventually escaping to win the day.

A few hours “alone”, and I save the world!

Hero … but anonymous and humble.

Extra:

When they returned home perhaps I was all ready for bed – instead of a battle, maybe Roger broke into song for me:

Read Full Post »