It was my grandpa who lured Old Methuselah out from the tannic depths of the lake. We were fishing for marron in the shallow waters of a small bay beside the dam wall, the jarrah forest at our back ...  [+]

It came to him suddenly, as he ran down the street screaming and on fire, that he was making a spectacle of himself.
After all, this was a modest neighborhood of well-maintained lawns and sensible ...  [+]