Heron. Just a snap shot. Must get a better one!

River side.

Red Kite

Sky

I was laying on my back (I never LIE ) doing a seventeenth bench press, in the garden, when I looked straight up and saw this . Made me feel dizzy!

Scars.

I wrote this to my father when I was a little boy, when he was away on one of his holidays
with his pals Eric Yearsly and Tommy Ford. They used to go to Portland Bill and , I suspect, live it up.
Mum and we four kids would be at home, mum scratching around trying to find enough money to feed and clothe us whilst Dad was away boozing and acting big throwing money around. This letter shows the innocence and trust of a child in a parent who would soon be home again to shout and roar and frighten him and his mum and siblings. I still bleed from the emotional wounds this bastard inflicted
on me. Incidentally, I expect the new boots and "lether boot lases" were paid for by my darling Gran.
It beats me why a man such as my father , who was possessed of considerable intelligence, was unable to see how he was behaving and exercise some control over himself. This letter was found among his effects after he died, a stupid , selfish person who wasted the years that could have been so happy.