I feel this strange emotional attachment after I finish building these bikes.

Strange hobby for a girl you may say

A houseful of boys

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Born with a brain, nothing was beyond imagination

I remember my first attempt was a distasteful to say the least. Seven bolts and screws left over didn’t faze my out until Harry fell off his bike 🚲 as the wheels rolled down the hill

Better luck next time cause I’m a planner by design

These were just the beginning of my days of my life

Next billy carts became my favourite one thing, every one wanted one of those. Pure modern art I thought, way out stuff was the go.

I didn’t need friends growing up I manufactured them daily with my skills. The demand out stripped supply of new materials. Magazines was my new treasure trove .

Being the runt of the litter I was lucky enough that no one looked for me in times of acute planning

Only my cocker spaniel plus the best billy cart in town did we go everywhere together in my black patent shoes and no socks did we lay in the grass hanging over the bank playing we our friends Mr. and Mrs Platypuses swimming in the Broken Creek waiting to be feed. Bucket full of worms 🐛 and of cookies we had stolen from the larder. Pooch would play around the river bank with one eye watching me just in case those creatures of the river ate all the cookies. The sun 🌞 stars fading Pooch snuggles down in his billy cart under the blankets and pillows we used to read on our backs by the Broken River

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Yesterday’s like that were our favourite thing ever