We lived on a steep hill. The other side of the hill was a wild golf course, covered in bush to the harbours edge. In the morning I could get up and "go bush" down to a cove out of any house view. At low tide a ribbed keel emerged on the quiet beach, out of the mist in winter.
I was a pirate, I was marooned, I was the Phantom, I retrieved golf balls from the bush on the way home.
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