My Turf

I met an old Church secretary recently, who asked me what I was doing on my turf. The reference to "my turf" was a standing joke, as I was threatened a few times by people who claimed it was theirs. In fact, one man ordered me off his turf, just outside the Church. I said it wasn't his turf, and was beginning to explain to him that it was public space, when he hit me sideways on the head with a steel broom handle, so that I saw the most beautiful blue lights -- and the doctor diagnosed concussion.