makes teenage boys very twitchy.
All I had to do was hammer in one nail into the timber frame of a prop for the high school musical on the weekend and I had a helpful young man offering to do it for me. I declined at first and hammered in the next nail but he was still hovering there, so I gave in. The men envied me my rapid acquisition of an apprentice who volunteered rather than being drafted.
At least he couldn’t take the power drill away from me, no matter how hard he twitched. Only the adult volunteers are allowed to play with those.
The off-the-beaten-track pro-am boxing match in the horse sales yard next door added a surreal touch to the frame-building. Why do I have a feeling that a not insignificant portion of the audience may have been prominent, or at the very least colourful, Sydney racing identities?