by RICK MORTON
I was about to cross the road recently when a passing bus mirror shaved past my face and led me to experience my first near-death moment since I’d become an adult.
My life did what it was supposed to do: not end, and flashed before my eyes.
Starting university, graduating high school, first love, last kiss … pen licence. Record scratch. Excuse me?
I went to a Catholic Primary school and we were already rather more fond of pomp and ceremony than we ought to be. But I remember the day our beginning class of Year Seven were handed our pen licences like it was a bloomin’ coronation.