Saturday, 5 October 2013


I remedied the problems of being an eccentric
child by practising until perfect the knack
of acquiring a high-status layer of filth.

The best place to do this was at the brook
near the Methodist cricket pitch. From the boundary
there sloped the Rocky Mountains, the Alps,
and the Himalayas down to our sometime dam,
which we busted every time it was rebuilt.

This slope had no grass on it. There, after rain
an expert could slide upon backside until clay became
his second skin. The water below easily impregnated
any shoe and when dammed would wash over the top
of wellies, leaving small worms and a smell
which not only mothers could detect. Perfect.

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