This child made me think about how my own childhood was spent.
And his breasts made me think about where my adulthood is heading.
As God is my witness (he has nothing better to do) I'm going to track down this Indonesian toddler to compare notes. I may even try to scab a cigarette off him although he seems kinda greedy. In that mean way.
Thinking about it now, it was very progressive of Cheesel to allow us all to smoke as children ... we may never have maintained the habit without her tacit support. What a visionary. No furtive scampering behind trees for us ... no "smokers' coming out" barbeques at 21 years of age ... just fond memories of family bonding in the backyard.
Geoff must have realised that a basket of laundry doesn't require 1 mother, 3 children and 15 minutes to hang onto the line.
My time out there taught me many things. For example, how to work out what the neighbours were watching on the tellie through the narrowest of openings between fence pailings (fuck all, by the way). And how to blow perfect smoke rimgs. The 4 of us created quite a misty, horror-film-like ambience ... a human fog machine pumping its exhaust onto the backdrop of a cool evening ... plumes of white smoke gently weaving their way through pegs and undies.
Whenever I hear the sound of a washing machine winding down from its final spin cycle still I feel a Pavlovian urge to stand next to a Hills Hoist and light up.
