How many times did I fight with kangaroos? Twice.

The first I was only a wee toddler when I wandered off on my little pedal trike. We were living in rural Queensland, in the middle of nowhere on a large property. So I trundled off in search of adventure as any 2yr old would. And I apparently came across this big Red Kangaroo. We locked gazes, and we instantly knew that only one of us would survive this encounter. The battle we fought was epic and it raged, oh how it raged! I was batter and bruised, bleeding from gashes here and there, but I had won! Luckily my parents found me, after having gone in search of my little adventurous self. My Dad, being the ever pragmatic man skinned the 'Roo, and his skin became the mat in my bedroom for years.

Later, when I was older and this mat became frayed, my Dad took it, inverted it and used it as the grip on my (field) Hockey stick. And I used it in many a sporting battle! I was, inevitably, called 'RooBoy', not because of the skin...well kind of. I could jump really really high. And as you know Hockey is all about jumping really really high.

Parts of these stories are embellished...or in fact totally false. But there are elements of truth.