Trailers for sale or rent...

The last time I was home, it was to attend my grandfather's funeral. My little urine-soaked third-cousin stood up on her toothless father's lap and squawked, "Is 'e in thaire? Is 'e in that box? ...Are they gunna burn 'im yairt?"

I don't know when I've ever been prouder.

We drove up for Dad's birthday on the weekend. It's possibly the first time I've driven home and felt like an adult for almost the whole journey there. It was a wierd, dissociated feeling, like I was a stranger intruding on my own memories. Whether I've actually changed, or just become more at peace with being me on the outside, I don't know. But I know that I still love rust-coloured sand,














and rust-coloured trucks,














and rust-coloured dust,














and I don't think I'll be changing that.

I love sheds,














and what's inside them.














I love my auntie's front garden,














I love treasure hunts,














and no matter how feral they get, or how many teeth they lose in the process, I'll always love my cousins.