Park life
The house in Guelph where I grew up was on Metcalfe Street opposite St. George’s Park, an idyllic place for an only child like me. If I got tired of indoor games, there was always something to do right out the front door: the swing set across the street. Once, for no reason at all, I took a hammer and a screwdriver from my father’s tool box, walked well into the park, and hammered that screwdriver right into the ground. I never told him and, as far as I know, he never missed that particular screwdriver. I could walk you...
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