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Oh, to be young and innocent. Not! I remember being told not to go downtown by myself when I was a kid. Not a lot, but a few times. Told that is. I mean, I would leave the house at 9 in the morning on my bike and make it home for supper without so much as a where ya been? I’m talking 7, 8, 9 years old? But as independent as we were, and became, we were also idiots too. I remember going to the harbour to taunt the fishing fleet byes, “Jiggy, jiggy 5 dollar”, so we could spend the next half hour running all through downtown to avoid a boot up da arse. And we didn’t even know what we were really saying. Jigging is what we did out on our buddy’s dad’s boat between hauling lobster pots in June off Merasheen, to catch the finest meal of cod I ever had. And then been let off by the grownups on a deserted island in the evening with enough black rum to get us drunk, (but not blotto) {we were teenagers then, and probably figured out what jiggy, jiggy really meant}. But at the younger age, we were idiots, as should we be. Going into the groc and conf and asking for a bean peeler, or a sky hook, and wondering why skipper behind the counter is laughing his head off. Yes, we were all young once, but I don’t remember being too innocent.

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Love your stream of conscience meandering along the way , exercise?

You n me both , 🥲💔👏👏👏🥰👍❤️

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Now I get to read your mind! Thank you!

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