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I didn't know I missed it until Alfred Nielson described the wild ute of the S. Shore as...

"We saunter along together, Six, eight, sometimes ten of us. That was the way to do it. Together like a tribe. A tribe who's costume was T-shirts, blue jeans rolled up at the cuffs, ankle-high P. F. Flyers, and flat-top haircuts thickly waxed with butch wax. We looked something like skinny hedgehogs that had defied evolution by walking upright and learning to play basketball."

Nielson describes the no-mans-land between Huguenot and Annadale as I remember in my childhood. The book is called The Summer of the Paymaster. It may read slightly slow for those who remember the big fire of Easter '63 or have been to the Orange House beach. After getting past the poetic licence of the office and saying to your self thats not 1oo% perfectly correct the book becomes a treasure. For you guys that grew up on the S. Shore you will think the book is written about you.
JR



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