Back where it all started...

So, let's go back to where it all started... hunting down gold and other old stuff. Those of you living way out in exciting, far-flung outer worlds will know what I'm talking about... hot winds and dust up yer nose, busted-up old Land Rover, busted-up old hands from wielding a pick and digging up dirt, busted-up brain from dreaming too much. Most of that has gone, but not all of it - a few, straggly bits of old dreams still scratch at my synapses and urge me out into the wilderness. Well, an almost-wilderness... two miles to the nearest settlement. No Matabele war parties rattling their shields at me, no marauding Lakota sweeping out from box canyons in the Black Hills... just the odd encounter with red-socked hikers and bewildered squirrel counters, that's as as tough as it gets. More's the pity. Anyway, let me introduce you to our Henry... rescued him from the slopes of the Nyanda Hills in the old Rhodesia, but that's another story. Found me some old gold too... swapped most of it for beer 'n baccy. Few small pieces left, just so's I don't forget...                                                                                 

OUR  HENRY