Pottering around the house, I was killing time before heading over to Grinagog festival in Torquay, with my two children, Ché, 13, and India, 14.
India had gone to the cinema with friends before, so it was just me and Ché.
‘I’m going to mow the lawn,’ I called over.
I started up the engine, but the noise ran through my ears. I’d had a headache for the past week, but with two kids it wasn’t unusual.
Then, as I pushed the mower, suddenly everything went black. When I opened my eyes, I was laying face down on the grass. I tried to call out for help, but I couldn’t speak.
As I tried to regain control of my body, I finally managed.
‘Ché,’ I shouted, trying to get his…
