Friday the 15th of APRIL who could it be know, page-54

when i was young we used to go up to a cattle, sheep and tobacco farm in Tenterfield.

fresh meat - it was up to Frank whether he shot a cow, or slit the throat of a sheep.
milk arrived in a bucket , warm.
the smell of tobacco leaves slowly drying in a large shed

milking a cows udder after it had been cut off the carcass

meat hanging outside in a small shed protected by fine green mesh

lots and lots of memories that i fondly remember even if some were grusome.