For some reason (and my mum is horrified) dad has taken to wearing a cap that makes him look like my Opa used to – minus the enormous ears. Since he retired a year ago today, he hasn’t slowed down in the slightest, if anything he’s raised the intensity. He’s a no-fuss, flexible sort of guy and on Saturday, he feverishly loaded a trailer of horse poo for the garden, whilst at my brother’s place near Ballarat. 
I wasn’t much of an interested eater until Kim started on her fine-food-obsession years ago, and I’m a lot better off as a result. I used to think mum’s food was great until I discovered the new world of asian spices and arabic influenced stuff on a nightly basis. I can’t go back now. When Kim was in hospital over the last week or so, I lazily started to revert to my true self and began to treat food the way my dad does – fodder to give you the energy to work, eaten as fast as possible. Phrases like “just use it all up” and “get rid of it” are a big part of his vernacular. When I saw him getting rid of some arsenic treated pine offcuts and various awkward-to-chainsaw stumps on the weekend, it fit the bigger picture. He’s even a man who stuffs his fires!