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W hen I was younger I spent 90% of my life outside, or so it seemed. I’d run in for a Turkey Twizzler occasionally and maybe a glass of Robinsons , but generally I was out and about. My friends and I would do anything and everything to keep ourselves entertained; climbing trees, jumping over the nursing home fence and annoying the old people, play football, play armies, compare penis size and a personal favourite; we’d play Fox and Hounds.
Fox and Hounds is a memorable one, and provided the stage for a pivotal moment in my life. The game was simple; our group would split into foxes and hounds, and hounds would hunt the foxes. We could pretty much go anywhere we liked, although the alley next to Sam’s house was out of bounds, and the road next to ‘The Flats’ was as…
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