He turns up, seventy-six years old, three weeks past major prostate surgery, still with a catheter embedded in his abdomen.
As you might imagine, I was happy to lift the gear and carry everything of weight. One he was stood in the trench, in control of the electric eel, there were no hassles - but he would have struggled without the help in setting up. Job done, I helped him get back out, all packed up and off home. He did alright on the wage, I also thought the price fair - barely $25 more for 60 years' practical experience rather than hiring the tools and just supplying my own labour. Not one whinge from the fellow about his health; he was happy to come, pleased to work. It was a dry, sunny midwinter's day with parrots noisily scoffing the seeds in nearby trees. In a country without oppression, without famine - a reminder of just how much life is about perception.
