I wasn’t sure she’d say yes, but I asked anyway. That Saturday we took our weapons and headed outta town. Separate cars. All through that freaky pandemic Summer we kept 2m apart, faces covered with bandanas like they said, and enjoyed the great outdoors of our beautiful state. They said it was a recommended recreational activity. Safe-distance exercise. We got quite competitive. She was a good shot, for a woman. We were like Martin Sheen and Sissy Spacek in that Montana movie. We’d sit down afterwards and agree: shooting beer cans was ok, but killing, that was the real thing.
Published by Billy Mann
I'm originally from Liverpool and worked as a national magazine journalist for more than 30 years before suffering a stroke at age 53. I started blogging as part of a neuro-rehabilitation programme and wrote the very first entries with one finger of my disabled left hand. Later, art became another therapy for me at Headway East London's Submit To Love studios. I blog regularly and volunteer as a teaching assistant, coaching schoolchildren in aspects of journalism. View all posts by Billy Mann