Under the jacaranda trees, afternoon tea, Zimbabwe (formerly Rhodesia), 1982.
This is incredibly brave of me. But not as brave as the checkered suit.
It ALMOST looks as though my (very strict religious) aunty is teaching me needlework, or some of the other fine domestic arts. But theres no fucking way THAT happened, unless all the drugs we took in the eighties dimmed that particular memory.
Maybe she was showing me how to roll a spliff.
