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At the age of five, I'd stand in the backyard wearing baggy blue shorts and a Brazilian jersey watching the clouds, the trees, birds tilting overhead on the breeze.
The kayak tips awkwardly. I'm leaning too far back to help. Noah panics and leans the wrong way. The weight of the boat shifts dramatically and we start to roll.
' I felt like a swim.'
I can see everything up here on the roof. To be more precise, I can see Audrey Benitez's back garden.
We were watching the show and Dad starts stammering, trying to get the words out, only nothing comes, just a squawk, like a sick bird.
The sign read ' Roberts Campground'. Fifty square metres of patchy grass, few fallen logs along one side, the river on the other and a track leading off into the bush.
' I wish I'd brought my pillow.'
I wander nervously among the endless jars of vitimins; rows of herbal tonics; cartons of flu tablets; and the limitless choice of shampoo and conditioners. Until I reach aisle five midway down, Ectasy, Bliss, paradise, pleasure and sensation.
Who comes up with these names? And which pack has the least condom-like appearance?
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