Freddie Gillies - The Big Bike Trip

Seldom do things quite turn out the way you expect. Despite our best efforts at anticipating the future, the universe has a way of throwing googlies at us, sending our lives down new paths some of them clear and well-trodden, others overgrown and unruly.

Our lawn at 13 Peel Street in Grey Lynn was always overgrown and unruly. My partner Tulsi and I had bought the old villa with a small lawn off a friend in 2004. Id been to the house a few times before it was offered for sale and it always had a great vibe. Maybe it was the hospitality of the previous owners, or maybe it was the magical way the hallway led visitors to the sunny back deck. Either way, I knew it would be a good house to live in.

The next-door neighbours on our eastern boundary were a young family of five. Chris and Jacqui had moved there in the 1990s and were in the process of bringing up three boys with early twentieth-century names Tom, Fred and Arthur who were aged from eight to 12.

Their childhood was an active one. They played cricket and rugby in their backyard all year round. Adjacent to their 100-year-old house, a sun-yellow Laser sat next to a Robin Bain style caravan, and occasionally theyd camp out at night in a tent at the end of their property by our fence.

One day, I came home from work and looked across my backyard and noticed something was amiss. It took me a few seconds to work out that my lawn had been mowed. This was odd considering I didnt own a lawn mower or pay anyone to mow the lawn. As I glanced across into Chris and Jacquis backyard I noticed that their lawn was immaculately freshly mown too. The cogs in my brain started to turn. A coincidence?

Later on, I found out that my 11-year-old neighbour, Fred, had come over and attacked the 75 types of weed and algae, which made up our lawn, of his own volition as a random act of pre-adolescent kindness.

Something in my heart warmed kids dont do stuff like that for adults any more. Kids probably never did stuff like that for adults at any time in history. Watching those kids next door made us want to have a family of our own.

Fred often talked about his dream to cycle around the world. When I heard he was serious about it I was certain he would pursue it with the intensity of a well-directed short ball, like those he would often bowl to me in the cricket net down the side of number 13. Fred and Arthur were so close (my children knew them as Frednarthur) that I knew Arthur would be going, too. Sean hung around Peel Street a lot and it became clear that the quiet boy, who so often cleared the front leg and heaved the ball to cow corner, would be going also. This book is a testament to the dream of these three young men, a dream I came to know because of a shaggy lawn, a well-maintained mower and a kind heart.