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Sunday 1 May 1994

Octopus salad, pide bread, spicy cold chicken, champagne. I took it all round to Mum and Dad's for a Mother's Day surprise. Michael and Penny brought dessert--apricot and ricotta whip with streaks of blackberry port weedling through it.

Halfway through the hazy afternoon we wandered out the back to look at Dad's vegie garden (and the blue gum of course). I said--What's that mess on the shed? He said the local kids seemed to be using his back yard as a war zone. He had chased them away a few times but yesterday was the last straw. He caught one of the terrorists in the shed. Instead of owning up the pale-faced kid slipped out of Dad's hands, made rude signs and ran off. Later in the day there was a ring on the front door bell. A letter was wedged in the security screen. Something about not being able to speak...the compost heap...a kickboxer.

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