And giants they were then;
they lived in the land and we clung to their legs,
begging for sweets and rides on their back.

We were all desire and they were already old,
we wanted to be as wild as the fox
and cosy as the black cat sitting on the windowsill...

I found my uncle one day scratching with a penknife at the earth beneath a flagstone
just outside the front door. When I asked him why he was doing that he replied,
'There's gold in them there hills,' and continued scraping. The he snapped the blade back,
replaced the flag and went about his business. I knew the earth held lead - and copper,
whose ore we would find in the spoil heaps and tunnels, bright blue and green - but not gold.

Even giants, I realised, sometimes made things up