You may remember when I described the foot race between the ranga racer Carolyn Young and my father, I mentioned the Calliope school annual breaking up picnic – definitely one of the year’s highlights for all Calliope kids. Oh, the watermelons that Ian Waddell brought in on his truck from the blacksoil flats at Riverston for us!
Words were fine by me. I was after all the only kid who had been given special dispensation to take home six books instead of the normal limit of three from the Gladstone Town Library, and usually had at least one of them read before we got back in the car to Calliope. Supply always was well behind demand in my case.
She was reading loudly and pointing to various animals, and the kids, big and small, were entranced by the pictures. Even Snivelling Peter wasn't actually snivelling right then. His eyes were glued to the book as he did unspeakable things with his index finger up his right nostril; stemming normal flow by fifty per cent. His nose was a veritable spring of eternal translucent snot.
* One of the great things about these stories is to have sisters whose memory is better or more precise than my own, and can correct errors I have made. One of these concerns the tribe of Long kids, and it seems that it was somewhat larger than I first recalled. Lyn wrote:
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