Jack Smith

From the Lakes, at the mouth of the Cocker. Had the whole countryside as my back garden. Felt like that at least. A roamer of the land I’d say. Bikes at nine, sandwich on your back. Home at the last light. Crummock was the go to. Felt as much of a daily routine as we had growing up. Can’t beat that Cumbrian rush, everything will be done tomorrow. Tempting to consider a return, although the rhythm of the city keeps us going these days. Yan. Tyan. Tethera. Methera. I remember getting a sheet of plywood for Christmas. Bought a jigsaw too. Only nine. Never had an aim. Just hacking away for fun. Making things with my Grandfather. I guess Malcolm caught the open source bus early doors. A hobbyist at heart. I can still recall the smell of his workshop. Never happier. Eyes closed. Right in the moment. Alive.

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