Oh, Jim,
Yes, a windmill story, sorry, I had forgotten......
Over fifty years ago when I was four years old I climbed everything around the farm. The windmill beckoned, so I climbed the 20 feet up to the top and sat on the triangular wooden platform, surveying all beneath. I called to my Father who was in the house enjoying morning tea. All terribly innocent.
Except it was incredibly windy. The windmill was spinning at full pelt, and any moment would have swung round - they are designed to swing into the wind in heavy gales to avoid destruction. When they swing round, it's quite sudden, and my infant head was just inches from the speeding fan of a 7' mill.
My Dad heard me, flew out of the door and with what seemed like three steps had shot up the frame ladder of the mill and swooped me off the platform. I dimly remember it; it happened blindingly fast.
Moments later, the mill wheel swung around..... It took years off his life, but fortunately, nothing off mine!! I also remember setting fire to a tractor, just as my Dad was filling it with fuel from the bowser. That was fun!! I did the same to my Grandmother's bathroom curtains, too.....
But don't we all have these stories?
Cheers,
Hugh
