Photo: Getty ImagesPart OneIf I say that this is a story, you might be more willing to accept it. Tod of the pseudonym, Tod the adult, was someone I met at a party when I was still in my 30s. Communal food was still slightly alarming; only the plummeting elevator-effect of the wine argued its case. Someone else brayed; Tod and I slipped out to the kitchen, where the bench was crowded with drink choices. I half wanted to hear what Tod knew, half dreaded it.

Source: Otago Daily Times December 28, 2017 16:07 UTC