Treasure!

I cleaned out the attic yesterday.

Ugh. I was up there for five hours and I didn't even finish. Mostly, though. I'll finish it next weekend. But guess what I found!

The pictures of my golden boy back when he was a golden boy! The ones I tore the house apart looking for three months ago, remember?

Did I ever tell you that he used to swim for Ireland in the All-Europe? He's the one on the left. Yum, yum.

He was a bit of a wanderer back then.

And also a bit of a hippie.

He got stuck in Greece one time with no money, and this very nice lady agreed to let him mind her children while she was on holiday. She gave him a roof and three squares, he taught the kids to swim, and when the two weeks were up she bought him a ticket on the Magic Bus back home.

This was back in the days when you could still climb around all over the Acropolis. You can't do that anymore.

He swears there wasn't any sort of Mrs. Robinson thing going on with Mrs. Magic Bus, but I don't know. He did used to be a bit of a flirt.

That's not the same lady. This one doesn't look like she's having any of it. She's dead now, poor girl. Lots of his friends from those days are dead now. It makes him sad.

He met Cat Stevens in this park, in London. I think he was still Cat Stevens then, at least. Not the afternoon this shot was taken, obviously. He was too busy playing frisbee in his OshKosh to ride the peace train that day.

And last, but not least...

I, um, did mention that he used to swim for Ireland, didn't I?

So we'll forgive his unfortunate taste in swimwear, then?

P.S. Johnny says "That's not a swimsuit, those are me jocks! Can't you see the opening where you stick your dick out?" Oh, well, then, sorry dear. I stand corrected.



P.P.S. I'm also over here today, and I want to be very clear: the attempted rape happened before I got there.