My parents decided to retire to the coast, which meant the farmhouse was up for grabs—so we grabbed it! The six kids can spread out on six acres and make a mess of a much larger house. Everyone is happier here.
A couple of months ago I decided to grow a moustache, see above. I thought it might make me look dapper and sophisticated.
It didn’t make me look cool, either.
It didn’t bother me when I thought I looked like a hobo.
But when I realised that I actually looked sleazy,
Well, that mo had to go.
That is, until moustaches inexplicably come back in fashion for conservative young fathers.
One night on our farm I found this little fella, which as it turns out, has the best name: a Pobblebonk frog or Banjo frog (Limnodynastes dumerilii).
Then something amazing happened. After I brought him inside, he blinked his wet eyes once, twice, and then whipped out a tiny banjo. My jaw dropped. He opened his little froggy mouth and in a surprisingly deep voice, challenged me to a duel. I grinned. This would be easy. I was banjo duelling champ four years running. I brandished my weapon and our fingers flew, keeping time with the chirping crickets and chanting children. It was crazy. Suddenly he narrowed his eyes and sped up, plucking strings like a kid on cordial. Before I knew it, I had gone full redneck and my hands were a blur. The children and crickets were lost to the music, hips swinging and elbows everywhere. Then with a terrible twanging, the villain’s strings broke, all at once. I had won. He was devastated, you should’ve seen his face! Oh look, you can, I took a selfie with him.
I’ve got a number of ongoing illustration projects with the Onkaparinga City council, while I get my portfolio ready to go hunting for an illustration/literary agent to represent me overseas.
Wish me luck!