I have been burning off out at the block, and the smell of burning gum leaves brings back memories of that time, years ago, when you and I and John Balcombe boiled the billy out on your farm. You two were fencing. I was barking logs, which we used to make a catching yard down the back paddock once they’d dried out.
They were big, thick logs that I rolled between my short, thick legs as I stripped the bark off in full lengths with an axe. It came off quickly when the logs were green, still full of sap, but the work was hard on my back and I am paying for it now.
You were built like a rangy roo dog in those days, and I am sorry to hear you now have emphysema.
Lots of people our age have got it due to all the home building and renovations we did with sheets of asbestos.
We thought it was great stuff: fire retardant, didn’t rot in the rain, and was easy to work with. I remember sawing pieces of it with a hand saw, no mask, and the dust of it flying everywhere. We didn’t know, then, what the future would hold.
Well, Ron, I am sorry I can’t say “get better soon”, but I am thinking of you.
Your old mate, Bill