My Family and Other Romans

‘Come on, Livi! You know the drill!’ called Dad from the far end of the garden.                                                                                                                                                        ‘One potato. Two potato. Three potato. Fire!’ A perfect hit. The arrow glanced off the brass door knocker and landed next door in Mrs Burden’s hollyhocks. Sighing, I pushed the Roman gladiator figures out of the way and opened my bedroom window.
‘Seriously, Dad, why can’t you just use the doorbell like everyone else?’
‘Where’s the fun in that?’ He grinned, centurion cape flapping in the wind. ‘Come, daughter, Rome Play awaits.’ Dad had been wearing a cape and tunic for nearly a month now. He said he wanted to get to know his inner Roman better. Still, it was better than his mythical being phase, I suppose. Trust me, being woken up by a cyclops on a dark winter morning is not good.