Yes, Poppa and the Bull is one of my favourite short stories. It’s being judged as I write this in a competition. Again. Let’s hope someone else loves it as much as I do. This story is special to me for a number of reasons.

Some years ago my husband and I did a trip outback way out where there are more flies than ants at a picnic. I became, reluctantly, reacquainted with the “Great Australian Salute”. It wasn’t as amusing as it sounds – much to the delight of my sister-in-law. Note to self, explain the term in another post.

But I digress… While we were in Longreach, my dear husband’s darling uncle who shall remain nameless, told us the story of what became “the rodeo of the white flag” in what became “Poppa and the Bull”.

His touching story of a truly disastrous first-and-last date stayed with me, begging me to rewrite history with a much more satisfying ending as I’m very sure the hero wished.

As I wrote it, it morphed into a multilevel web of spider silk spanning the generations. Which made keeping the tenses straight a real challenge to say the least.

Here’s hoping I can give you the big reveal soon. Unlike the bull above I trust. I apologise for him. He looked ferocious but looking at him again has me thinking… he had a great orthodontist!