"Mum, where's the nail gun?"

"It's well hidden in the rafters", says I, to myself.

"I sold it", says I, to Fred.

Fred's always loved messing with bits of driftwood and carving knives and nail guns. He's lucky he still has ten fingers.

I went out one day, ten years ago. Left Fred in my sisters hands. Came home a couple of hours later and there he was on the deck, totally pleased with himself having nail gunned a mess of driftwood together.

I was alarmed! But secretly impressed that nothing was dead or injured.

Anyway, I couldn't tape it on the fridge, so I nailed it on the house ... as one does with their offspring's masterpieces. That's it there, in amongst the fuchsia. It's an excellent support for trailing fuchsia.

If you look real close you can see how trigger happy he was that day.