I'm sitting in the Jones' lounge, watching one of their family videos. It shows them in Christmas 1989. They were still in London at the time. Now they're opening their Christmas presents... and now they're going for a walk in St James Park, just down the road from Buckingham Palace... oh, man, this is great - the kids are just putting on an impromptu puppet show. Everybody, all together now - AWWW, CUTE!
At the same time, I was living in Flemington - an impoverished suburb in Western Sydney. It was our first full year in Australia. I don't think my parents owned a car yet. I was attending a public school down the road, and trying to figure out what's hit me, and how to adjust to this strange new culture.
The Jones' and I couldn't be more different. And yet I feel right at home. What on earth do a Welsh ministerial family have in common with a penniless Sri Lankan immigrant???
Maybe the blood of Christ...?
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