Time to Shed a Tear

It's two years now since that lousy day when my trusty Rascal van (Jorge) was smashed into at my brother’s place in the woods, and all my tools and test equipment stolen.

The door-way to the right of the picture opens into my Dad’s shed, where as a youngster I had “helped” him to rebuild engines (and all the rest), learned a good deal, and absorbed a fair few good cussings!

When I come to think about it, that place has an almost sacred significance for me.

To have been away so long, and come back again, and to have that happen in such a spot … well, it was like something that Stephen King would write about, wasn’t it?

Spooky. Or Divine Retribution?

Wonder whether Dad can see my blog up there (but, there again, he would already know, wouldn’t he)?