The climbing tree I grew up with was a giant lucerne. It provided as much delight for our family as that fictional ‘faraway’ tree. One of my favourite childhood books was The Magic Faraway tree, by Enid Blyton. It actually belonged to my sister. Who could not
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The summer of 1957 in north west Tasmania was unusually dry. My father was forced to harness up our draught horses Bell and Nugget and use a sled to transport water to our farmhouse from a back paddock dam. He used 44 gallon drums covered with wet chaff bags for
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