Ack! Head . . . exploding with . . . schoolboy . . . nostalgia.
Hiya Primrose Park. I remember you from my school sport days. How many years ago was that? Oh, look, it doesn't really matter, does it? I mean, who's counting? Oh. You are. Well, tough titties, because I'm not telling. The ol' knees are a bit stiffer than I remember though, especially after a day of cricket (during which I starred with the ball and picked up 3 wickets *cough*).
Your pitches are still on the small side. There's still that funky canal down the back that's haunted by the ghosts of thousands of rugby, soccer and cricket balls long since lost back there. That big brick damn thing down the far end hasn't changed. Nor has your sparkling waterfront. Lots more dogs than I remember though. And you seem, I don't know, sunnier somehow. More youthful and appealing than I remember. Botox? No, I just thought .... you know what, don't worry, you look great is all.
I'm coming back to lie under your gum trees on the gentle slope facing the water with my dog. Let's not leave it so long again, huh? read more