After he had finished his day’s work, Johnny would rummage in the cooler in his shed, take out a cold-one and sit on the porch in his rocker. He started early and ended early, a hangover from his youth where he had to be on building sites by 5am. It was a hard habit to shake after a life-time of menial jobs. Now that he was retired, he enjoyed the hours.
He loved the solitude of the early mornings, the chill to the air. More especially, he enjoyed these solitary times out on the porch after a day’s work pottering in his yard. He loved the smell of the eucalypts in his adopted land, the angle of the sun, the warmth in the air.
He had come a long way from the docks in Bermondsey, locked in the holds of cargo vessels bound for the other side of the world.