Peggy’s house

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I played at Peggy’s house most of the time, or any other neighbour’s house for that matter.  I’m trying hard to think of my friends playing at my house and I can’t remember that.  It was only my brother, sister and I at our house but we had the run of the Woodlawn neighbourhood that we rode our bikes through as if it was our world.  And it was.  We would meet up “in the field by Peanut Butter Hill” the dip that bucked us off our bikes regularly and we would ride through the scotch broom listening to the snap and pop of the seed pods spitting at us.  Continue reading