by Peter Harris

Created on: August 19, 2010   Last Updated: September 08, 2010

Azaleas, Star Wars and a goat named Tilly.

Breakfast scoffed, hastily dressed, teeth and face scrubbed and I’m ready to wake my brother up – a mission reserved for only the brave or clinically insane. Paul, two years older than me, is doing what he does best – sleeping. He has hit a certain time of life where he is beginning to turn into some nocturnal nomad, who appears to have forgotten how to communicate with the outside world. He still nods, though, which is encouraging. Last week I became so concerned that I asked my dad if he thought Paul was changing into a vampire. Dad assured me this was definitely not the case. He called it, “just a stage.” He also said I'd go through exactly the same thing in a few years time. Dad smiled, patted my head as if he felt sorry for me, snatched his briefcase and headed out the front door, giving a half-hearted wave that no-one could see and the obligatory, “Bye, darling, have a nice day,” which mum certainly could not hear as she was having a shower three flights up.

It’s funny what we remember, the details snaking through our minds like some elusive serpent, until they're ready to strike. In that moment, senses are heightened and emotions run high. Of course, it helps if you have caught some of these events on camera, too, but there is no substitute for taking a stroll down memory lane – reminiscing about old times - because the prospect of the times yet to come is too daunting to face. It enables us to create stories. And here's one fond memory I have - a tale like no other.

Summer holidays, early 1980’s, where the days seemed to last forever.  Carefree and enchanting, it was a time of never-ending laughs. School was over and little angels such as me could show our true colours, uncovering some startling truths. We discovered that we were brave adventurers in search of lost lands or became film and football stars in the garden. And that's where my story begins – my film-making debut in the wondrous setting of the family grounds.

Having hardly slept a wink, my best friend (Paul) and I haul the cart from his house up the hill. It is only 10 am and it is already baking hot. The cart bounces along the pavement, as we carefully struggle up the incline taking care not to upset the balance lest our precious cargo should get damaged.

           

“I can't wait for this. It's going to be

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