Stories from my actual real life.Read More
I was born on September 25, 1994. Like most people I don’t remember that part very well. My parents were renting a place in Bowral, New South Wales, so that was my first home. I also don’t remember that, because we moved away soon after - my only memory of the house is peering out at it from the car when we drove past years later for kicks.
Anyway, my first real house was in Mittagong, Bowral’s twin in the shadow of Mount Alexandra. It was where I had my first pet and my first kiss. It’s also where I stepped in dog poo barefoot trying to avoid a wasp. I cried.
I cried a lot as a kid. I guess I still do - it helps to have a good bawl in the bedsheets every now and then. I’d cry because I lost my hat (an all-too-frequent happening), or if things just didn’t go my way. After we moved to Exeter I cried at my first soccer training when Andrew Frost scored a goal against me even though he was supposed to be on my team. I think, anyway. I might’ve just gotten confused.