Memory stories

I started reading about the age of four. I can still remember a collection of books my parents gave me when I was five. There was a copy of Aesop’s Fables which made a big impression, while another, Grimms’ Fairy Tales, I didn’t like, and found a bit scary (I also remember a nightmare I … More Memory stories

The tent

When I was seven years old my parents bought me a tent. It was canvas and cone-shaped, on one side Indians in their warbonnets, their horses leaping, on the other cowboys, leather chapped, guns blazing. It was assembled in our big, grassy back yard at Mascot Sydney, which overlooked a broken, grey paling fence and … More The tent