Then ice cream and and jelly prior to falling to sleep in front of the soaps.
But no that sort of idyllic lifestyle wasn't the hand that the cards dealt to me.
Oh no, I got none of a kind in my hand.
My losing hand has me going around in a little house on wheels ridiculously called The Flying Whatever and visiting dreadfully horrible places like Tolaga Bay on New Zealand's East Cape.
I do what they call 'freedom camp' which means
I don't go to those nice motor camps.
Well I would, but they prefer white tupperware containers on wheels to my funny old Bedford and when I light the fire, well, the looks on their faces! And they get their inhalers out and shake them at me.
So here I am cast out of society, just like a gypsy, an itinerant with no fixed abode, catching fish, enduring boring beaches and occasionally meeting a like minded soul.
As you can imagine, hating every moment of it.
But that's the way the ball bounces, the cards shuffle, the fish flops, the sun sets...
