The Second Hand Man
December 28th, 1965

My parents(Or should that be Santa Claus) were kind enough to buy me the train set that Ihad asked them for Christmas. They seemed slightly surprised when I had changedmy mind about the cowboy suit that I had apparently been raving on about sinceI saw it in Cap’s Hobbies and Toys two months ago.

My mother, toher great relief and delight, often replaces me playing with my new gift. And, ifmemory serves me well, Sputnik 5 will be spared the terrible ruckus of the capguns that originally accompanied the cowboy suit.

The actualreason for the train set is that that it gives me the opportunity to use myfather’s books from his study. He doesn’t mind, just as long as I, ‘Put ‘em allback when you’re finished playing or I’ll give you a taste of my belt-strap!’He believes that the books are used primarily to build bridges and tunnelsabout the train tracks, when, in fact, it gives me the perfect opportunity tocatch up on some reading.

And althoughmy father’s taste in reading material leaves much to be desired (He has acollection of about 20 James Hadley Chase novels and a lot of similar stuff),it does help to pass the time. Thank goodness for the large set ofencyclopedias. I must be the first kid to actually start reading through hisparents’ set of Encyclopædia Britannica – normally they just look good on theshelf whilst gathering dust.

Even though much of the information therein islaughably outdated (Well, to me that is), a great deal is still pleasantlyinformative and educational. I never knew that earthworms in Australia couldgrow to over six foot in length – fascinating.

God, I missthe internet!

Oh yeah, I’vealso managed to replace the ideal place to hide my memoirs. There’s a slit in thematerial on the side of my mattress. The mattress is filled with a type of longbrown grassy material. I think it’s probably coconut fibers.

Hell, it mustbe pretty ancient. If memory serves me right, my bed and mattress once belongedto my father when he was a kid. After I was born, my grandparents decided thatI should have it. It has both a head and baseboard with some circular patternscarved into the wood. I remember how I used to lie in bed and run my finger inthe grooves, tracing the carved lines. After many years I’m able to do itagain. It gives me a strange sensation of well-being.

I wonder why?

Anyhow, mymother will never think to look between the coconut hair inside my mattress.

As mentioned,it’s the ideal hiding place.