“Don’t tell my mum I work on the rigs”

Breff gave me some interesting looking books for my birthday …. and stupidly I then left them at home. Having forgotten any books last week, and regretted it, I bought two in Smiths at the train station. One is a serious read, and then there’s this one by Paul Carter. It’s a sort of boys-own memoir of oil rig tales.
Not well written, and pretty short, but it’s quite fun. Feels like the literary equivalent to McDonalds fries – not something you’d want all the time, but guiltily enjoyable from time to time.

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