Goodbye Miro, Hello Hornsby

Today we closed the gates on an era - the Miro Street McKinlay's. Mary and Dave moved there, with 5 kids, in early 1979. It's seen a fair few changes since, as have we. The gilrfriends and boyfriends, the mates, the parties, the strippers, the fights, the make-ups, the happy times, and the sad... Dad chasing a prowler around the house with a sword, while Reg Murphy chose the less conspicuous baseball bat... we've seen it all. It's been a great house but it's really only a shelter, without those that made it a part of my life. The memories live within us, rather than the wooden walls of the house.

Dad and I packed up the last of the major items and I closed iron gates on 4 Miro Street. It felt, a little, like I was closing the door on my childhood. No more test cricket at the Woburn Oval, for me. My child - Frankie Padraig McKinlay - will arrive into this world without ever known the house that is the castle around which all my memories revolve. I think he'll like Carterton better.

Mum and Dad's new neighbours are much friendlier than the old ones. Tastier too, I'd imagine.