He screeched in laughter as the ball got to him, scooped it up, and threw it to an equally blond friend up the slope.But something caught my eye in th... shoveled sidewalk. I knelt back down for a closer look. My heart caught in my throat when I saw scratched in the cement, “Dag ‘03”. No. It wasn’t my Dag. But some little boy had scratched his name into wet cement. I could easily imagine Dag having done the same kind of thing when he was a child. These streets were his home. He probably grew up. I saw a worried look on his face until he saw me, when it turned to relief. A young technician, even if from head office, was not about to worry him too much. He moaned about not having been informed before ringing Stephen Kenny to verify my credentials. I took an instant dislike to him. My initial thoughts were that he was an arse-licker or bully according to whoever he was with at the time.After more complaints about my being there, he took me into the main office and sought out a specific. More

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