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In this time of misery and bushfires, I wanted to share a bit of levity. Some months ago, Ellen wrote an article about a young chap who went to stay with his Dad.   The poor lad just about ate himself in to an early death for fear of offending by not eating all that was put in front of him. He saw plates with slow cooked lamb shanks in gravy with mashed spuds and veges; slow cooked corned silverside with all the trimmings, beef stews, soups – you name it.

Well, I want to tell you another tale. About a lad who lives with his Mother and is now holidaying with his Dad. On a camping holiday. With men. Lots of men. White, heterosexual, water skiing, cycling, jet skiing, full blooded men.

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