The last time....

.... I remember my Father was when I was thirteen.

A week before he died we'd gone down to Perth to
the Sheep Sales and were driving the 120 miles
home late at night.

My Father was giving a lift North to his friend,
a Shepherd, who was in the front passenger seat.
I was in the back.

I kept falling asleep, then half waking and hearing their
voices and the engine and seeing the dashboard lights
and feeling dozy and happy, and as content as I would
ever be again.

And even now, more than half a century later,
I love to travel in cars at night
and I feel more at home then
than I do in any house in which I've ever lived.