While she is at it , I would suggest that she also downloads another ozzie movie called " The Castle " , while it has nothing to do with cricket , I am sure that it is a another ossie movie that you would enjoy.
Not too surprisingly , I received a personal message from a rather pedantic forumite who wanted to point out an inconsistency in my storyline , where I had stated that I had not cried since I was about five years old but did in fact have tears streaming down my face when I received my brand new shiny tomahawk at Christmas.
He is of course , technically , correct but those tears were " tears of joy " & I should have explained more clearly just why that new tomahawk meant so much to me.
We had a big axe that was always kept razor sharp to cut the middle & big wood.
The wood box had a huge compartment for the big wood , a smaller compartment for the middle wood & a tiny little compartment for the chips & that was because you only needed a couple of chips to get the stove started but once it got going you needed plenty of middle & big wood to keep the stove going & it had to be kept going 24 / 7 during winter as it was our only source of heating the house.
While the big brothers were allowed to use the big axe , I was limited to an old rusty & very blunt tomahawk that would barely be able to cut through a pound of butter. (of course , when no one was watching , I would try to use the big axe but it was so heavy I could barely raise it of the ground. )
Invariably , by the time that big brothers had finished their allocated duties
& the woodbox was filled to capacity except for the chip box , I would still be struggling to fill the chip box so they would take over & within a few minutes not only would the chip box be filled but they provided me with a stockpile of chips which I would hide behind the backyard shed for future use.
I was certainly no angel as a kid & the lack of tears refers to the innumerable amount of times that I got caught doing the wrong thing.
The wooden spoon from mum on the back of my thighs for minor breaches was bad enough but even worse , just wait until your father gets home.
I had already been sprung , not only for wagging school but also for shoplifting a bag of lollies from the local store.
When dad came home , I knew that there was no escape , I had done the wrong thing & as dad took off his thick leather work belt & told me to bend over & pull my pants down , I took my punishment but refused to cry.
I slump on my bed (face down ) , reflecting on what I have done , Mum comes in to make sure that I am ok & at the same time tell me a little bit about the Mcabes that are running the shop.
They are not rich just because they run that shop , they do not even own it , they just manage it so they are not much better off than us.
So , after school tomorrow , I want you to go down there with this sixpence to pay for the stolen lollies & apologise to Mrs Mcabe.
Les , it's after dark , your tea has gone cold , where on earth have you been.
Well , even after I gave her the sixpence & apologised for my behaviour , she was not impressed.
I began to walk away when she shouted out , if you are sincere then you can deliver these flyers for me .
There was probably a hundred of them but I made sure that I delivered each & every one.