Chapter 16
I decided to go and visit my parents, I hadn’t seen them in a while and I felt like I needed a break, away from the smoke, clear my head and to feel some country air in my lungs. My father was knee deep in mud and weeds, his favourite pastime, when I drew to a halt in front of the garage.
‘See you are still walking about looking like a tart!’ he said in greeting, rising to his feet, a trowel in one hand a bunch of weeds in the other.
Dad despised my long hair and couldn’t resist jibes at every occasion, he thought it unmanly, even though I pointed out that throughout history men had traditionally worn their hair long; ‘Yes but we have grown civilised since then my boy, we now have a barbers on every street. We now live in the twentieth century,’ he would retort, puffing on hi
