During The Games, every time I thought I would get a gift that would helppreserve my masculinity, I'd get the opposite. I would get sissy prizes.Shoes... Lingerie. Hair remover. Make up. Wigs. False breasts. I didn't knowwhat my father was up to. It was crazy, but I also knew he was gettinghelp from a professional Games consultant. I figured they had a strategyand knew how to win.I would have rather received gifts that helped me be more of a man.Hormones. Protein. Weapons. I would have liked my. Returning from a trip on his trawler one day, she jumped ashore and turned to throw the docking rope back. ‘Donald,’ she said, ‘when I touch this island, it’s like home rising through the soles of my feet. The soles of my feet and then up.’Donald carried this story to the pub. ‘She’s a strange spirit altogether,’ he told his friend Angus. ‘A daydreamer, not the born fisherman her father was. She spent the day arse-up over the bow of my boat, waving at the fish to hurry away.’‘You wouldn’t be. More

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