Ros Collins, Byron Bay
Last Saturday I took my two grandsons to soccer and stayed with the younger to wait for the coach. I had been told by my daughter to expect a tall, imposing, black-skinned Jamaican gentleman.
At last I saw him coming and said to my grandson that the coach was walking down the path. My grandson asked how I knew it was the coach and as I felt that a loud reply might cause offence I asked him to whisper in my ear what he thought it was that had helped me recognise the coach.
I bent down to listen as my gorgeous boy whispered ‘because he is so handsome?’ If only all the adults in the world thought that the person they were looking at was another person just like themselves.