My mother could be accused of being a hypochondriac. The blame could be layed on my youngest brother. She was ok until he was born. But since then she has never been well. Most of her health issues seem real. This is a segue to what Daniel wrote today.
I had a farm in Africa, at the foot of Ngong Hills. Sorry. (Some of you will surely know where that came from)
No, I was brung up on a farm in Gippsland, at the foot of Mt Baw Baw. The bank manager was visiting. Anything of any value was put away out of site. Mum's medicines were all locked away. Any visible sign of alcohol disappeared along with all ashtrays. A car was put out of sight. The tractor, which I suppose the bank financed was cleaned, for its only time in its life. The cow shed was meticulously cleaned. A rug was thrown over the auto washer. Some haybales were strategically arranged in places.
As we continued to live there for some years after, I supposed we passed the bank managers inspection. Bank managers wer to be feared. They had real power.