Robyn Hogan

The Curse

17 April 2006

The two men argued while I held the sweaty horses. I was eight. My red-faced father seemed to have won; the other man stomped away. Then he turned, fist upraised, ‘May all your children be radio announcers!’ My daughter has just lobbed in. ‘I got it! I’m the new drive time girl!’

Skipping a generation, the curse lived on.

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