"Kevin" - insta-yarn

They were gonna sell the houso flats in Balmain, Kevin knew, and he got that. He'd built stuff from steel, iron and aluminium out at Cockatoo for years. Things had t' happen. Now, standing at his kitchen sinking and rinsing his departed wife's old tea cup, he watched his old crane out on the island. Rusting to bits and only producing seagull eggs. Everything has it's end, yup. But what he didn't get was the easy millions that the various hedge fund manager and other blokes who just drank coffee for a living would get out of it all. When he asked his grandson what he did for a crust, the young fella was honest enough to say: "I type and I talk." Kevin remembered how out on the island one of the few female clerks would right out your blue pay slip by hand in the early days. On the Kiandra ferry on the way home, he'd look at the different handwriting each week, and know that he'd got something done.