The joy of jumping in puddles
A tale of breathtaking stupidity in the name of childhood adventure
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The tales of a middle-aged grump, standing in the backyard, howling at the moon, lamenting the good old days of his youth compared to the kids of today. Glenn writes of his childhood growing up in 1970s Australia. It was a time when cooking oil was an acceptable sunscreen. The 'alien' nut allergy and gluten intolerance invasion we know today had yet to reach our planet. For children back then, entertainment was reliant mainly on imagination alone, as the internet had yet to rule our lives and parental involvement was non-existent. With that imagination and a lack of foresight to danger that bo...
The tales of a middle-aged grump, standing in the backyard, howling at the moon, lamenting the good old days of his youth compared to the kids of today. Glenn writes of his childhood growing up in 1970s Australia. It was a time when cooking oil was an acceptable sunscreen. The 'alien' nut allergy and gluten intolerance invasion we know today had yet to reach our planet. For children back then, entertainment was reliant mainly on imagination alone, as the internet had yet to rule our lives and parental involvement was non-existent. With that imagination and a lack of foresight to danger that boys possess, moronic misadventures were commonplace. Glenn recounts many well-trodden stories that sound hilarious now but could have ended his short life countless times. These include shootings a brother down from a tree with a slug gun or getting hit by a train whilst playing on the tracks, revelling in the lethal pleasures of the annual Cracker Night. At a time when any yobbo, including kids, could buy war surplus quantities of explosives over the milk bar counter, no questions asked...what could possibly go wrong?
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