At the end of another long, tricky day at the world's best job, I reached for my Redman and the quiver-full of blunts atop my filing cabinet, and wandered out onto the oval with my battered old plastic milk bottle. Starting close, like twelve metres, I proceeded to shoot one arrow before walking back to twenty metres, then thirty, and then forty (or thereabouts). The milk bottle either got smashed again each shot, or was severely frightened. Then the rain came down again (monsoon season), and it brought a big grin to my mug to be out there just being a boy with a bow, getting soaking wet, and seeing how my arrows fly with wet feathers (no worries!). It was an absolute joy to be shooting, and hopefully when things dry-up a bit, a little pig will find himself or herself in some trouble. As you blokes know, I have a few really nice, fine, expensive bows, and they are fast and deadly and fun and magical; but the simple Hill longbow just has a bit more magic, to my thinking.