Last weekend as usual there were young lads playing in the forest beside the lake. I can see this spot from the house. So like all my neighbours, I tend to keep an close eye on these boys. I wonder who they are? The years pass and still they come. Anonymous teenagers with all kinds of excitement on their minds. Bitter experience reminds me where . . .
I've always had a house full of them. Long limbed lads with soft chocolatey eyes and too many plans for wild escapades. Knotting up the house with twine, wool and bits of wood. Getting . . .