A blog about writing young adult and children's fiction, and other random observations.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Yesterday I was cleaning out my shed and found these:
The first example, written when I was ten, reminds me that a) I've never been able to draw and b) despite my sometimes difficult relationship with my grandfather, my fondest memories of him revolve around food (eating his raw garlic, fresh peas, and carrots, chiefly) and meals (family lunches and Christmases), which began with Grace (us kids peeping at each other and the solemn faces of the adults) and ended with the grownups passed out in the lounge room chairs, recovering.
The second, written when I was fifteen, reminds me of how easy it was to buy booze when underage in 1984. Among other things.