Scarred for life by my THONGS
As the sun warmed my skin, the scent of chargrilled burgers wafted through the air.
‘Catch!’ my friend, Daniel*, 30, shouted, tossing me a beer from the esky.
Prying it open, I sank back into my camping chair.
‘It’s a gorgeous day, isn’t it?’ I smiled.
Daniel was having a barbecue and he had an ideal, giant, hilly backyard, planted with trees.
Hours passed while we listened to music and chatted away.
Daniel’s daughter, Mary*, then six, and his sons, Toby*, three, and
