Coco is no more

Our beautiful 14 year old maltese died this morning.
She was the cutest little doggy.
Well actually she wasn't always.
When Barney, her brother was alive, she used to bark at everything and snip at people.
I spent my life saying, "Oh my God, she's never bitten anyone before". Lying through my teeth.
When Barney carked it we thought we were left with the crap dog.  So wrong.
Obviously Barney was a bully and made Coco do all the bad things.
Finally she was out of Barney's shadow and she was top dog, sweet, no barking, only a very little nipping.
She was elitist and hated the cleaners and workmen.
When the cleaners were last here Mark attached her lead to an outside chair and as they were leaving she ran after them snarling with the chair in tow.  Pretty funny really she was only about 14" tall.
Don't think they will be that devastated about her demise.
We're ratshit.
Since Mark has been working from home, she has sat at his feet every day.  He's heartbroken.
She took up so much space and she was so little.
Here's to Coco

Somme where out there

Our adventure began with The Skipper and Gilligan in the front seat, (shades of the 50's and the Sunday drive). We're off to the Western Front. Doug did say "Well, we don't know where we are going but we're travelling at 110ks to get there". We only had to reverse about 3 times and once we went in the wrong direction for about an hour. There sure is a lot of french countryside.

We did manage to get ourselves locked inside an open field. It's easier than you think. It was actually the Commonwealth War Commission grave site. Some poor french yokel came with a key to let the boom gate up.  The next morning we managed to turn up too early and were locked out of everything. Typical.

Off to Brugge for lunch. Fabby. Unfortunately Helen and Mark had the chicken which really looked like churkey, could have been something that survived the Somme, but not in a good way.
We loved those Dutch words, found a place called St. Jan Waggelwater, and Diksmudde. that kept us giggling.

Back home that night. We were in three countries in one day. France - Belgium - France. Back home in time for our favourite TV show, QI. Thank god!

Hels and I are really over the garden full of flowers, apparently dead heading is de rigeur for gardeners. i.e. cut off flowers cause they grow so quickly and put in vases, the cutting then encourages new blooms, are you seeing where this is going?  So we have several vases full of dying flowers with smelly water and we have to keep on replacing them. I've solved it. I just cut off the flowers and put them straight into the compost heap. Saves all that emptying of yucky water and the compost heap looks really pretty.

Not annoying any of the locals today, well Hels and I are at home but Mark and Doug have gone out for their weekly Thursday lunch. 

Will keep you posted.

Up the Allies,

Memories from Honfleur

Bon jour,

Yesterday we went on a road trip to Etretat (we called it ere's-your-hat), it's on the coast and about 1 hour drive from home. Well it is unless Mark (now known as Gilligan) is directing. Hels looked up another map and after 2 hours we realised we were nearly in Belgium, oops. We all said how lovely the trip was and we would never have seen such lovely country side without that fabulous detour.  Yeah right! 

He then took us to the ugliest seaside town in Normandy, didn't think that was possible, Helen thought it was the mort hoik (dead spit - frenchy talk) of Blackpool. The photos lie. All the restaurants were closed and we got cheese on toast, very French, NOT. 

Finally arrived at Here's your hat, got lost again getting there, it was gorgeous. By this time we had been in the car for 5 hours, Helen was busting to go to the loo but they were too tricky to use so we came home. Two hours later she was first out of the car and bolted for the front door.

Another great day.

Mark is mugged by Bambi.

All my decorations are up.
Santa in a hotrod, skiing moose, really scary santa, evil angel, dog with the flapping ears, groovy singing santa, little snow man, the tree with 400 lights, reindeer, Bambi.
They are all sound activated, so when the phone rings, the toys all start singing and the dog goes berko.
Unfortunately, Mark tripped over the fairy lights, fell into the tree, knocked off the reindeers' antlers, landed on Bambi and bled all over the santa snow, my Christmas tree scene looks like a massacre, and he totally stuffed his face, which he sensibly used to land on.
I clocked him checking out his face in the mirror and heard something I never thought he would say "Gee, I hope my nose grows back".

Mum the dog whisperer

Mum and dad have always had unusual pets.
Katy, the beagle, nicked dad's false teeth from the glass jar by the bed. She ran around the house with them in her gob, flashing a very rakish smile.
Dad caught her, reefed them off her and put them straight back in his mouth. Yicky.
We had orange shag pile carpet in the rumpus room when we were growing up, our very intelligent dogs used to try to bury their bones in it. So, every time we had people over someone had to rake the carpet so guests wouldn't hurt their feet.
Benny and Harry, their last dogs used to go berko when the phone rang,  they'd jump up and bite you on the bottom when you answered it. So mum would try to out run the dogs to the phone, yelling and screaming "Ow, ow, stop it, stop it!"
Harry was a most unfortunate looking shitzu/maltese. His lower  jaw stuck out with one big tooth that shot up over his upper lip.  I thought it looked like he'd had a stroke. I used to worry about him in the rain, thought he might drown. He also refused to walk, so mum and dad's great idea was to carry him around the block.

Fred Astair

When Sam was a little fella he used to go around the house tap dancing.
I asked him, "Darling would you like some lessons?"
He replied "You mean I'm not doing it right?"

The French Invasion

Last year we spent a month in Honfleur France with our great friends, Doug and Helen, and had a few interesting moments.
This was our first experience with the locals.
Mark and Doug were walking to the bread shop early and they noticed a whole group of gypsies had moved in on the side of the street out the front of the house.
Three caravans, 12 horses (they pull the vans), 8 dogs and one cute little piggy. Only spotted him once, makes you wonder.  They did look a tad dodgy. 
So Helen rang the owners of the property and they asked us to tell the police just so they could keep an eye on things.

No prob! Mark and Doug dropped Helen and me into the local gendarmery and we told them the story.

We thought we were going great guns but the police were giggling and looked a bit confused. One actually had a coughing fit and left the room.

So Helen rang her friends who speak fluent French and they explained the situation, the police said we could go and thanked us. Actually it was more like they asked us to leave with shooing motions.

We were feeling very smug about out language skills. Mark picked us up and said 'there must be a story in that'  We explained that we had handled it perfectly and the police were lovely.  Then we related what we had said.

Unfortunately the word for horse in French is not hippo, Doug told us it was. Our pronounciation of gitan (gypsy) translated to 'smoking'. 

So we figured out what we basically said was there are 12 smoking hippos in our street, hauling 3 caravans.   Straight out of 'ello 'ello. Can you believe what the police must have thought?

Wait for further installments.

Cyclone Hamish

We went to Hamilton Island with most of the children and Mr and Mrs Watson. Arrived at the airport, had rented the most wonderful apartment, 4 bedrooms, 4 bathrooms, marble for ever, our own pool, deck over looking the marina, just divine.
No one to meet us, where was the transport? Rang and they finally turned up. Were greeted with
"Youse 'll cack ya selves when ya see where youse goin"
We all piled into the golf buggies and travelled about one minute. End of the run way, turn left.
Did have a fabulous view of all in coming.
Bit panicked that a cyclone was approaching, all the shops were going to be closed, Hels and I hit the grocery store and sent Pad down to the grog shop to buy as much as he could. I could cook anything, but I didn't have my own still.
Cyclone Hamish was a fizzer, three leaves and a sick branch hit the floor.
They still didn't open the grog shop, wouldn't you be happier dead pissed, than dead sober?
So we had Fel and Sam on shop patrol, binoculars to check as soon as the store opened. We were down to one bottle of wine. Saw the blinds go up, sent the crew, all was well in the land of nod.
Mum did get stuck in the shower and yelled out "Help, help" She had managed to wedge herself in between the door and the door opening, no clue, Pad replied, "Don't worry Nanna, I'll be back on Thursday". "Thanks darling" was the reply, she didn't realise that it was it was Sunday. Jan to the rescue.

True love

The week before we were married Mark went to get his hair cut.
The salon, very kind description, was in the main street of Chatswood.
He was asked if it was for anything important.
So he told them he was getting married and having his honeymoon in Asia.
"Well", the hair artiste said, "it's very humid in the east, I think a gentle body wave would be perfect, you wont have to worry about your hair at all".
Not that he ever had.
As described by him, "They put me in the front window, with a condom over my head and then dragged out pieces of my hair with a crotchet hook". Maybe he was also getting some blond tips, always a good idea.
His hair was blow dried and off he went.
Next morning, had a shower, off to work. Clocked himself in the rear vision mirror in his car and nearly drove off the road. The perm had really kicked in.
I married him and his head looked like a testicle. He's got a really big forehead.

Our wedding day

We had our wedding feast, ha, at the Killarney Heights Reception Centre. The food was the dead spit for something you got on a crook airline down the back of the plane. "Chicken or meat? Chicken please.  Oh, we've only got meat". (I thought chicken was meat, apparently not).
Mark's fly broke and he stuck the floral centrepiece in the gap. My father abused all the guests. Our wedding song was meant to be "Who knows how much I love you" by the Beatles but the DJ put on the next track instead "Why don't you do it in the road?"
We all went back to mum and dad's. Mum showed all the guests her brand new freezer in the garage and hundreds of parcels of frozen meat. Gee they were very impressed.
Mum and dad had tarted up the house by planting 20 or 30 poplars down the drive. Unfortunately Norman, our best man got pissed and reversed up the drive in his brand new Cadillac with really wide bumpers.   He accelerated and every few seconds you could hear this bizarre noise like, phitt-umph, phitt-umph, phitt-umph.  He drove home to Castle Hill from French's Forest with 20 poplar saplings, ten each side of his bumper bar.
We took off the next morning on our honeymoon, Mark was so ill his parents had to come from Bayview to the airport with anti vomit stuff. What a wuz. I was fine and had a fabulous brekky from the baine marie.
Just remembered Mark had his hair permed for the wedding. HYSTERICAL.

Bit gross but entertaining

A million years ago, Mark had to give a speech to magazine executives. It was the beginning of the whole, House and Garden, Do-It-Yourself thing.
So he thought it would be interesting if he brought a prop along.
He decided on a vibrator.
We went to an adult shop to purchase it. Oh My God. Someone else came in after us, the quaintly attired salesman shuffled us into this room, and closed the curtain, classy,  told the other customer that 'he was with clients'. Bit yucky.
Anyway the choice was mind boggling. We decided on something that looked somewhat respectable and took it out to the man.
He said, "Can't sell you that mate. It's my thermos".
We left.

I'm an exocet missile

First swim of the season.
I hang out with the old guys at the beach, you know the ones that don't have skin, just skin cancer.
Last year I taught myself to body surf. They used to call me a teabag because I just floated up and down in the same spot and flapped my arms.
I've been promoted now.
I am a tad dangerous and have been known to take out a couple or several swimmers.
I take off on a wave and go full pelt.
I don't open my eyes, salt water stings.

First date

In 1977 I was working at David Jones as an assistant buyer in the stationery department.
My career was off to a huge start.
Mark was General Manager of Greetings at John Sands, a card company.  I figured out he was in charge of saying "Hi".
He was also at North Ryde Psychiatric Hosy. (Doctor, not inmate).  Great combination.
Anyway, John Sands took out the stationery dept, of DJ's Australia, for a Christmas knees up on a harbour cruise.
I met Mark and thought, "He's a bit of alright".
Then the buyer from Mackay got in a clinch with the captain, unfortunately mid clinch, we were heading for the rocks, I pointed this out to Captain Groper, and he dropped said buyer literally and retook control of the vessel.
She fell from the steering seat, splat.
Didn't move for a bit.  First time she was quiet.
Doctor of Greetings had to look after her, said he didn't have a car (lost shitloads of interest, how in the hell do you go out with someone on a bus?) and could someone drive them to the hospital.
Next day, he rang me for a date, I thought "Of course, another one bites the dust"
Went to Vlados in Paddo, meat, meat and more meat. Loved it. Got engaged six weeks later. Now  married 32 years.
Only found out on my wedding day, he'd been paid to take me out to find out why John Sands didn't get the DJ's account.

Perfect parenting

The Watties and the de T's took all the kids and went to Port Macquarie for the weekend. It was meant to be a great spot to hand feed pelicans. God knows why we thought that was a good idea.
We realised the hotel wasn't quite five star when we got to our suites and saw the room dividers were shower curtains.
It rained all weekend, not a bird in sight. Unless you went to Plaster Fun House, which looked like the inside of a sheltered workshop, and painted your own animal. People were actually doing it, adults as well. Quite scary.
Both families went to a slap up meal at the local Pizza Hut. The ovens broke down, they didn't tell us and we drank our body weight in wine waiting for the food.
After about our fourth litre of cask de crap, we got a bit noisy.
The food finally arrived, Helen was insulted because the waitress pointed to her helper and said "That one is for the old lady with the glasses", not a good move.
When I asked for more wine they said to me "Don't you think you've had enough, dear?"
I don't like being called 'dear' by people who are about 12 years old, let alone being told to ease up on the singing syrup.
So it was on for young and old.
We demanded to see the manager, who ran and hid behind the cash register.
That didn't stop Hels and me, we walked up and shouted at him "Get up, you coward. We know you are there." He wouldn't. It's hard to leave a place with dignity when you've been a total ratbag.
We did provide a lot of entertainment for the locals, our kids weren't very impressed.
Oh, I forgot, Pad coughed all weekend and drove us all bonkers with his whinging.
Took him to the doctor on Monday, he had pneumonia. Oops.

Swan dive

It was summer time and the kids and their friends were in the pool.
I'd just got a new cossie and felt a bit special.
Executed this wonderful, graceful dive, bobbed up and smiled, expecting a few cheers.
Instead Pad said, "Gee mum, you look crook wet".

Dad and the Mighty Boy

Dad bought a Mighty Boy once, it's a car the size of a Jason Recliner and it's a ute.
He brought it home and yelled out, come and find me. Bit weird.
We didn't and we all forgot about him.
A couple of hours later we sent the boys out to look for him. He'd forced himself into the space behind the seat and the back panel and then got a cramp, he was trying to prove the car was a reasonable size.
It wasn't.

Never go into the boot

I went out one night and we had just had our car modified to fit our three boys, and put another row of seats into the back of the station wagon. You know the ones that face the wrong way so everyone vomits.
Had a really dull night, came home early sober, I was driving.
Dropped my keys as I was fumbling for my handbag, which was in the back of the car. Crawled into the back, back seat and the headrest thingy shot up.
I was imprisoned in the boot.
This was before mobile phones, I couldn't reach the horn, nobody gave a fat rats as to where I was, and I spent the night, in my garage in my car.
Then I thought, well I could be in economy in a plane, but then I thought after twelve bloody hours I wouldn't end up in Elanora Heights in my own garage!
The next morning Mark got up to get the paper, and saw me asleep in the boot. Got me out and told me there was a tiny, little button that releases the headrest.
I just cried and went to bed.

Mum and the computer

Mum had just started to use a computer, she was 75, pretty amazing.
One day in the car she said to us "My computer was very rude to me".
Bit gobsmacked and asked her what she meant.
"Well, I've even written in down". Out comes the note pad and glasses. Reading from the page, she said,
"I typed something in and then a box came up on the screen that said - Don't ask me that again".

I'm no Ester WIlliams

We had an above ground pool, classy.
Anyway, it sprung a leak and had to be patched.
It was winter and bloody cold.
One of us had to swim down and fix it.  Mark said he couldn't because he wore glasses and couldn't see under water.
I reckon he lied.
I borrowed a neighbour's wet suit and goggles and swam down with the patch, I kept on bobbing up so then I put on weights around my waist.  I still kept on bobbing up.
Mark had a great idea, he held me down with a broom.
Fixed it.
To top it all off I had a panic attack because I got stuck in the wet suit and couldn't get out of the bastard of a thing.
I'm never, ever going snorkelling.

Gee the locals are helpful

Mark and I were in Hobart, went out for dinner, left the restaurant and attempted to walk back to the hotel.
High heels, wine and cobbled streets don't work.
Fell off my shoe, broke my foot and had to be piggy-backed to the hotel, we couldn't get a cab.
Next day hired a wheel chair, I really couldn't walk and we were off sight seeing down to Port Arthur.
I'd left my groovy sunglasses in the room so I picked up an el cheapo pair. You know, old people ones that wrap around your face.
It was really cold so I took a blanket.
Mark was wheeling me around, really badly, he left me in front of blank walls with  nothing to look at.
To recap, in a wheel chair, blankey covering my legs and big sunnies on.
I was deposited in front of some sight seeing thing and Mark went to the loo. People came up and started to read me the signs with all the descriptions on them, and I kept moving my head around to look.
I thought gosh these Taswegians sure are friendly.
Then the penny dropped.
They thought I was blind and crippled and I was moving my head around like that blind, black singer with the macrami head gear.
On the way home I had to be hoisted up to the plane with the catering.

Neville was divine

Neville,  Maude's beautiful husband of 56 years, was the principal flautist for the SSO for over 50 years. Sir Charles Mackerras once said that "Neville Amadio was without doubt the greatest flautist the world produced in the 20th century". Pretty serious.
When Neville performed solos he would practise for hours and hours.
As Maude said "When you are performing in front of a couple of thousand people it doesn't pay to play a bum note darling".

Don't give it to Bartrum

Douglas Newton, Mark's sort of uncle and really old family friend came to stay with us for three months when we were renting in Warriewood.
He lived in New York and was the world's leading expert on Pacific Art.  Had a whole wing designed for him at The Metropolitan Museum New York, wrote articles for Encyclopaedia Britannica, advised the Rockefellers on their collection.
Sort of a bit brainy.
Oh, he drank a bottle of scotch and smoked two packets of gaspers a day.
Lived until he was 81.
Anyway he was with us for the footy season. We loved league. So every Friday night Mark, the boys and I watched the big game.  Douglas read, made notes, smoked ciggies, drank and appeared to pay no attention.
The final game, I don't remember who was playing, the game was to be won or lost with the last goal. Bartrum came up to kick, Douglas's voice piped up behind the Sydney Morning Herald and said, "Don't give it to Bartrum, he can't kick".  He was right.

Mark's really got his finger on the pulse

Mark was in Chicago in 1990 staying at a very ritzy hotel.
He rang me one night to say "Something weird's happening. There is security on my floor and I have to be checked in to my room"
He went down to the bar and was only allowed in because he was staying in a flash room.
The bar was empty except for four people and now him.
So he gets a drink and his accent is noticed by the four and he is asked over for a drink or twenty.
I get another call. He's complaining that his quiet drink has been disturbed by this group. His description "There's this really blousey blond woman with exploding bosoms and a man with very tight red leather pants being really annoying, what will I do?" I suggest buying them all a drink and then toddling off to bed.
Next morning he goes downstairs for brekky and bumps into them.
There are queues of people all over the shop holding record albums (remember them?) Anyway he waves hello to his new friends and they all wave back and leave in the biggest winnebago he's ever seen.
Mark asks the doorman "Who are those people?" response "You've got to be kidding me buddy, that's Fleetwood Mac".

You look like a rock star

Just had a really short hair cut.  Went to bed, in a white t-shirt and boxers. Woke up and did that old person cripple walk.
Mark said "You look like a rock star" I thought, how cool am I? I asked, "Who?"
Answer  "Keith Richards"

Night, night, sleep tight.

We had a bit of a shindig one night. It was summer time and I always wear a short white skirt, high heels, t-shirt and Versace belt.  My uniform, I'm not called Betty Boop for nothing.
End of the night, fell in to bed.
Woke up the next morning, absolutely terrified. I couldn't move my arms, and my legs were numb.
I yelled at Mark that something was terribly wrong. He took my sheet off, and all was revealed.
I'd started to get ready for bed and put my arms down the side of my skirt to try to wriggle out of it and passed out. Hadn't moved in 8 hours.

Melbourne Cup 1980

We were living in Melbourne, my best friend Sue flew down from Sydney for a spectacular day.  As an aside, she had just had fake nails put on, very cutting edge then, unfortunately when she was putting away her cabin luggage they all shot off and flew around the plane. As they were quite exe she asked her fellow travellers to have a captains. The response wasn't great.
We were meant to arrive in great style at the cup, a friend had organised a helicopter, tickets to the members and champagne all round. Sadly, the helicopter pilot had a heart attack the night before, no grand entrance.
We were totally frocked up for the day. High heels, gorgeous dresses, mink coat (it was the eighties) and pearls. Typical Melbourne weather it was freezing and pouring.
Mark very kindly offered to drive us there. The traffic was horrendous, it took an hour to travel about one kilometre. So he got jack of it and turfed us (horsey term)  out at the furtherest most point of the track. We ended up at the stables. High heels, mud and horse pooh not ideal.
We finally made it to the bookies and put on some bets. Between us Sue and I had every horse in the race. Mark had one.
No member's tickets, we spent the day with our backs to the track holding on to the wire mesh looking in at the members.
Finally the big race, Sue and I couldn't see a thing so we went and watched it on tele in the loser's bar and had a pie. Whoopdy doo.
Our main horse carcked it mid race, Mark's won. We then had to find the bookie to get Mark's winnings,  he was closer to the next suburb.
Sue and I caught a train home and had maccas. Mark did take us out for dinner with his winnings but we were still stuffed with fries.
Haven't been to the Cup since.


'

My botty's on fire

The whole family was around the rim of that amazingly big hole in America.
The Grand Canyon.
Went out for dinner, back to the car. Sam used to run with one arm pumping up and down to the side, like a really weird pirate with a dud parrot.
We all left the restaurant. Sam got into a bit of a run with his one arm pumping motion and ran into the back of a car and then sort of ricocheted off the bumper bar and then hit the ground and shot off like a bullet.
He slid for about 20 meters on his bottom,  got up and said....My botty's on fire.

Those cabbies are lovely

Laurel and Jack moved into a housing commission flat in Waterloo in 1976.  It was the first time they'd had an indoor loo.
Laurel was off to the dentist's and hailed a cab out the front. (Remember her eye sight wasn't too crash hot).
She was a bit surprised when a cab pulled up and there were two men in the front seat.
Anyway she gave them the address and asked them to wait for her. No problem.
She got back in the cab after her appointment and they took her home. She met a neighbour when she got out of the cab and praised the cabbies saying they were so lovely and wouldn't take any money.
Her friend pointed out that she had just gotten out of a police car.

Nanna was a trick

We were on a family Christmas holiday in Forster, back in the 70's.  Mum, dad, Ross (my brother) and me. 

Nanna and poppa flew up to join us. 

Everyone else got off the plane, no Laurel and Jack.

Eventually Laurel appeared being helped down the stairs by the pilot and hostie. 

Not only was she totally mozart and liszt with a bee hive hairdo the size of Marge Simpson's, her ensemble was amazing.

Bright pink sequinned hot pants and high heels. She was 65. 

Not too much water with that Jany!

I used to visit my nanna Laurel, at her nursing home, most mornings after the gym. Around 9.30.
She liked a whisky chaser with her morning cup of tea. Just the 50ml Johnny Walker plastic bottle.
I used to look pretty tragic buying them just as the grog shop opened.
I would try and explain and say "this is for my nanna". They would give me this pathetic look. (A dobber and a drunk).
As she was nearly blind I would pour it into a little glass for her and she would always say "Not too much water with that Jany". I always took the empties home.
Her other weakness was flagon sherry, another classy purchase.
Not only did the grog shop people think I was a closet drunk, they thought I was dirt cheap.
Every once in a while I use an old hand bag and find some empty Johnny Walker bottles.
Not such a good look either.

Aunty Marie wipes out the smorgasbord at Eliza's Double Bay

My Aunty Marie took us out for a wonderful meal at Eliza's to celebrate my brother's opening of Jardin en Plus in Double Bay.  (An interior/exterior decorating shop).  It was in the 80's.
Marie had a couple of glasses of champagne at the opening.
Off we went to dinner.
Just to set this up, Eliza's had a magnificent smorgy centre piece.
Entree arrived and Marie fell straight in to her soup, splat!
We decided a retreat would be a good move.
All the men left to get the car, (wouldn't you know) mum and I had to drag Aunty Marie out of the restaurant. Unfortunately she started to come to with arms flailing she managed to wipe out the entire smorgy.

Nanna had a new wig

My Nanna, Laurel, was just bonkersley wonderful.  She loved a new hairdo and bought herself a beautiful nylon wig, with its own lurid, blue head stand.
We all went all over for a roast and Nanna stuck her head in the oven to check out the leg of lamb.
Ooops, nylon and heat isn't ideal.
There was this loud but very short whoosh sound, and a really weird smell.
Nanna shot out of the oven and instantly swung the wig around so now the back was the front.
Her fringe was now about five inches above her eyebrows.
She still looked great.
Here's to Laurel

You don't need ugg boots in Mexico

We went to Mark's sister's fabulous wedding in Mexico, her hubby CB is gorgeous.
Bit pissed the night before we left so just opened our suitcases on the bottom floor, near the front door (ease of egress) and threw some stuff in from the top of the staircase.
Mark had to buy clothes when he got to LA, he'd just brought undies and jumpers;
I managed to bring my ugg boots and not too many matching shoes.  Lucky I've only got dress up clothes.
You never look crook in Mexico.
Made for some interesting outfits.  Sweaty lamb skin boots are not ideal in Mexico in May,  mind you no one else was wearing them,..... tell you something?
The wedding was hysterical, and beautiful. Like Mama Mia but better. Singing was better too, curtesy of Glenn Shorrock, Louise knows flash people.
The priest couldn't get Louise's name right. I was matron of dishonour and was standing behind her.
He called her, Louis, Louie, Louisa. I totally got the giggles, the fourth time he called her Louie (was this the first gay marriage in Mexico?) I turned around to the gang behind and sort of whispered "Who the fuck's Louie?'
It really was the most magical wedding.  So far so good with Louie/Louis/Louisa and CB

We hadn't had him for long

Still in bed, just had another flash back.
When Jamie was really little, only 3 weeks old, and we hadn't been out to dinner in ages. Well at least a week before he was born. That's a month all up.
We were living in Melbourne and the best Chinese then, probably still is, The Flower Drum. So off we toddled with Jamie and had a yummy meal. He was so quiet we put him under the table.
Finished dins, back to the car and thought, gosh, what's missing?  Got the wallet, handbag, keys.. back seat empty, those days you just used to sticky tape them to the back seat. Anyway forgot the baby.
That's embarrassing!
Mark and I had a major blue as to who would go back inside for him.  Muggins lost, in I trot and say "Hello, I've left something, is anyone sitting at our table yet? Can I have a quick squiz? "
Because it was a quality establishment they had tablecloths that hung down really low, so I scrambled underneath our table and dragged Jamie out, pretending I had a really big handbag that looked like a cabbage patch doll.
We were only just getting used to having him around.

It's alright mum, no one saw you

Been butcher's for a couple of days and in bed, as I've had time on my hands I was thinking about when the kids were at school.
We moved to Manly in 1998 and enrolled Pad and Sam into the local catholic school, St. Paul's.
One of the funniest things was their motto. 'St. Paul's, where we turn Manly boys into Manly men!' Isn't that hysterical?
It was their first sports afternoon and the whole school was down at the beach, I thought that was fabby.
So, I walked along the beach with Mark and the three dogs, copped Sam, waved and moved on.
When Sam got home I asked him if it was embarrassing that I walked passed and waved to him in front of his new class mates.
He said "It was alright mum, no one saw you".

Maybe we're clothing challenged?

I was in this terribly posh frock shop in London -Joseph's- with a great mate, Alex.
Everything looked so fabulous.
Alex bought a fur hat for his sister (I thought it looked a bit like a dead bear's bum, but I kept schtum on that).
I draped this furry garment over my skirt and thought, jeez that's weird.
There were open flaps over my hips. Would have been great if I was a seal.
Ponce-de-ponce came up to me and announced "Modom, THAT is NOT a SKIRT, THAT is a JACKET".
I said 'Thank God, it's the crookest skirt I've ever seen".
We couldn't breathe for laughing.
At least I didn't have my undies on my noggin.
.

That's not a hat

Hels reminded me of this, remember my partner in crime in New York?
Mark was in hossie about to be operated on having his hand fixed. (Forgot to mention he was a doctor)
So the nurse brought him in his clobber for the op and asked him to put it all on.
She came to take him up to the theatre and got the giggles and said "I'm afraid sir, that isn't a hat, they are your undies".
He was sitting there with his undies on his head and his hair sticking out of the leg holes.

Mary's revenge

I was out visiting with Maude yesterday, she announced to a crowded room of relos that we are related to Saint Mary McKillop by marriage.
I started to feel really crook, and had to call our jaunt to a quick halt.
We had stopped outside St. Mary's Cathedral at the lights and I became violently ill,
opened the car door and did a quick chuck out of the car. Charming really.
Mary's obviously not too impressed with her newly found family.
It took Mark an hour with a wet towel, paint brush and a bottle of spray and wipe to dig out the tomato skins, carrot and corn out of the car door, where does that come from?
Oh well, better out than in.

Mata Hari wasn't deaf

Mark's mum, Marie, is buying a new apartment.
We all went to have a captain's. Gorgeous.
We were inside with her agent and the selling agent,  Marie drags me over to a corner and sort of tries to make herself flat against the wall and beckons me over in the loudest whisper you have ever heard. Her hearing aids are not so good.
Anyway I got the giggles and said "What is it Mata Hari?"
She didn't hear me.
Marie then mimed and shouted at the same time, "SHUSH, DON'T MENTION THE PRICE. DAVID IS NEGOTIATING. HE IS THE PROFESSIONAL".
David, The Professional, is about 20 years old and the size of a small jockey.  He might be missing on Melbourne Cup Day.

Happy birthday Betty

Betty, my mum, runs the bar at her retirement village.
Every Friday evening they have a bit of a knees up.
Once a month, on a Sunday afternoon, they all meet to celebrate whoever's birthday. There's a cake and a drink.
Mum went down last Sunday, it was her turn for the birthday bash (she turned down lunch with us because she felt guilty and she had to go)
Went down, not a soul there, it is a retirement village, they forgot.
She talked to the woman in charge, they rang around and got 6 women (mum said that one of them had put on a cardigan - no clue what that's about, thinking that's probably good) and one bloke, (mum said, he's only got half a leg). He pushed his wheel chair in to the middle of the group and told them all dirty jokes.
The cake was frozen.

Maude the Marvellous hits Coles

We were shopping this arvo at Coles in Manly and laughing a lot. A lovely man came up to us and told us 'too much noise, no laughing aloud/allowed'.
He was admiring our fruit purchases and complimented Maude on her choice of paw paw. It's meant to be very good for arthritis.
He said he was riddled with it.
His wife came up and told us he was always talking to the girls.
Maude said, 'Don't worry darling, we don't want him. He's riddled with arthritis'.

Deodorant is not the same as hairspray

It was really windy on Saturday so I thought some hairspray would be a good idea.
Didn't have my glasses on and managed to cover my head in deodorant.
My hair set like cement, could have survived Cyclone Tracey and invaded the Falklands

Bettyisms

My mum is just gorgeous and has the most amazing relationship with the English language.
Mum has renamed The Bavarian Beer Cafe. "I had a lovely lunch at that Ovarian Beer Cafe, we had Nicarette salad with a Champignon Blanc ". A Bettyism.

Our special child

When Pad was in year 4, he came home one arvo and told me he was trying to get in to the special class.
Bloody hell, he'd always spoken really slowly with a very deep voice.
I rang Mark and told him what we had secretly thought, the kid's a dill.
Can't even get in to the special class.
Gathered ourselves and realised, no prob, we'll get him help. Whatever it takes.
We are then invited to the special class night, he got in.
The other parents are really excited.  Mark and I thought they were bonkers.
Apparently not.
Special means 'gifted and talented'.
Who knew?

Diamonds are a girl's best friend

We were married a million years ago..(1978)
My engagement ring had three beautiful diamonds. Purchased from an exquisite, antique jewellery store (maybe not).
Anyway, the week before the wedding one of the diamonds fell out. So I took the hare lipped ring to a very serious jeweller in Castlereagh Street, just down from DJ's.
He looked at the ring with one of those glass eye things and said,
"Madam to replace a stone of this quality will cost at least $25.00".
Still married.

Fat is My Friend

I cook and deliver food to my crook friends. 

I always wear high heels so my kids call me Meals on Heels.

Maude the Marvellous reckons I should include one of my fat free recipes on my blog.

Oops don't have any.

First pond experience

I've fallen in my pond before.
It was New Year's Eve and I had just bought the flashest outfit. I actually gave up ciggies to pay for it. Well really, I just put the money aside and bought French Champagne.
 I'm now a serious alcoholic with very expensive taste.
Back to the outfit. Pale blue cashmere twin set (doesn't sound so flash, but it was) and a fabulous silk taffeta skirt. Great shoes.
Anyway, end of the night and I decided to take my champagne outside.  Fell in the pond, we had fish in it then, after a while dragged myself out, shouted at Mark, for letting me near water when I was a bit wobbly boots, went to bed.
I rang The House of Cashmere, and asked if they were really serious about dry clean only and had anybody sat in a slimy pond for half an hour and if they did what were the chances of recovery for the outfit.  Short answer, rooted.
Remember that Mastercard ad?
Cashmere twinset.... $1,000
Silk skirt.... $600
High heels... $1,000
Mother pissed in pond ......Priceless!

The Universe Provides

We were driving down the road to lunch, I announced to all in the car "I've left my watch at home and look, the universe provides. It's 11.27".
Sam, my youngest said, "Mum, that's the price of diesel".
We'd just driven passed a petrol station.

Here's to Sweetie

Barney carcked it a year ago, he was just gorgeous. Maltese and 14 years old.
We had bought him as a puppy for my brother who was very ill and wanted a lap dog.
(Something weird is happening, my cat is trying to hump my knitting bag,  I'm not joking, I might wake up tomorrow with mittens)
Back to main story, we had the best send off for him.
Unfortunately the vet managed to miss spell his name on the ashes box (Barnie???)
We had a very touching funeral.
We all trouped down to the front garden (that's where he barked at everyone from dawn til dusk) to the tune of the funereal march, beautifully whistled by Wheats. The boys all gave a speech about him, I played Auld Lang Sine on my harmonica and we then put his ashes in the shrubs.
Maybe the barbecue after was a bit tacky (he was cremated) but mum loved it so much, she said she wanted the same.
I did suggest we didn't have a shrub big enough.
 Here's to Sweetie.

Hot Toes

We were travelling in the states with the kids in one of those 8 seater cars, and had just bought them all very flash new shoes.

Sam was five.
Anyway it was really cold and rainy, so we had the heaters on in the car.  Sam kept on whinging and whinging that his toes were hot.
We told him to stop carrying on and just be happy that he wasn't outside in the cold and rain.
We finally got out of the car, it was still raining.
It rained on Sam's shoes and they sort of sizzled and spat.
Apparently his new shoes were steel capped and he had his feet under the heater.

No spillage

Hot tip for pouring drinks in the dark.
Stick your finger-tip in the cup/mug/glass
When it gets wet, stop pouring

I fell in my pond, again

We were off to Darwin and had to leave at some ungodly hour.
Didn't want to turn on the outside lights and wake up the neighbours (what was I thinking?).
So 5am in dark, darky bits, closed the front door, took a step and a half, oops,  fell in the pond.
Couldn't remember if my flash watch was water resistant or water proof so went under with my left arm held high.
A bit like Excalibur without the sword.
Prince Valiant was already in the cab, couldn't be bothered changing.
My hair did look a bit crook in the lounge, and I did sound a bit squishy.
Think I finally dried out over Ayers Rock.

Einstein

I have managed to follow myself,  no clue.  Will get advice.

Helmsley Palace- it's long but it's worth it.

Sounds flash, it's not.
Our best friends had moved to New York so we had a get together.
Anyway we all met up in this  hotel, two wives,  one  husband, (one sensibly away on business)  six children. I think we booked out half of the floor.
Hels and I hadn't seen each other in ages. Lots of catching up. Mark scarpered and went back to Toby's room - eldest child
We ran out of booze and ordered up. (But that was after we sent Toby out, he was the oldest and most sensible to get us cigarettes, no one does that any more either.)
So at about 2 am we thought a bottle of Dom was a great idea. Too rat faced to drink it, we both fell into bed and woke up the next morning, not looking so great.
First thing, rang Tobe and asked him to get us a big bottle of coca cola.
Mark turned up back in our room, and he said it smelled like a brewery, forgot to mention that we felt a tad guilty about the Dom un drunk but purchased so I poured in down the toilet.
So Mark has a shower and comes out of the bathroom looking all squeaky clean.
The room service guy turns up with a huge bottle of coca cola on a silver tray (thank you Toby),
Mark comes out of the bathroom in his robe,
(remember squeaky clean) opens the door, lets the guy in, who then cops Helen and me in bed together looking totally tragic ( you know- face squished with last year's make-up still on)
looks at Mark and must think that he has picked up the oldest most tragic hookers in New York.
Hels and I got the giggles but didn't move. Just jiggled a bit.

Poultry

One day we went out for a drive, (does anyone do that any more?)
Anyway we drove past a takeaway shop and there was a person in a chicken suit waving, so I waved back (I'm terminally polite).
Mum asked "What's Jan waving at ?" Response "She's waving at a chicken"
Mum then asked "What sort of chicken?"

Maude the Marvellous

Took Maude shopping today, her husband was Mark's goddy. He was the principal flautist for the Sydney Symphony Orchestra for 50 years and had a solid silver flute.....anyway...Maude is 90ish and has a disabled sticker.
She put it on my dash board and asked "Darling, do you feel drunk with power?"

The sun beckons

It's nearly summer time. I usually only shave the bit on my legs that you can see. You know the bit between your ankle and the bottom of your jeans. Not particularly taxing.
The hairs on my leg are now long enough to stab a rat.
Out comes the razor on goes the skirt.

My father the human aerial

-We (me, Mark, three sons, one brother) were all watching the cricket at mum and dad's  (back in the 60's dad played for New Zealand and was a wicket keeper- they beat the poms).
Anyway the tele went a bit fuzzy and dad went out to fix the aerial.
It was on the roof.
It became clear, but after a while we realised dad was missing.
So Mark, my husband, went to find him, he was usually in the shed having a cleansing ale.
....Not there.
So Mark called out 'Dick, Dick' (that was his name).

Then dad squealed out 'Mark, Mark (that is his name)
Look up but don't tell the girls'.

-Unfortunately the aerial was S shaped and dad had balanced it on his neck.

 He had successfully tightened one screw on the left hand side then did the same on the right hand side.     That was when he dropped the screw driver-

My God he's got no legs,

I remember watching the Olympics with mum, hence known as Betty, the men's gymnastics, it's actually called the Still Rings.
Mum was watching and just saw the athletes hoisted up to the hoops and you could only see them from waist height  and she said "Isn't that wonderful, they're competing and they've got no legs".
We're still giggling about the dismount.

Don't you love crackers?

Just watching the opening of the Commonwealth Games in Delhi.
I giggle every time I hear The Chief Minister's name, Sheila Dikshit. I don't know which is funnier  Sheila or  Dikshit. It's fabulous hearing it in on loudspeaker in the stadium.
The dancers are amazing, no one seems to be dancing in time and they are running around like crabs on a hot plate but it all just looks so beautiful.
Probably just like India, chaotic, beautiful and overwhelming.
The Australian uniform looks like the Wiggles have gone to the games. Crook as!
Might have curry for lunch.
Anyway the crackers were great.

Mum's home safe

Dragged mum up from Mona Vale to watch the footy, someone lost. Mum didn't want to stay, have you seen Pad's room? Even mum screamed
Sent her home in a taxi. Got a bit worried and rang the company and suggested that the driver was looking after his own mum.  Worked a treat.

Up The Corso

Just returned from a quick shop in Manly and spotted a glamorous Rabbitoh supporter. NOT!
Female, 70years old, long draggly greasy hair, sporting white furry rabbit's ears, footy t-shirt and a gasper hanging out of her gob.
Oh and her team was knocked out of the comp two weeks ago.
So aptly named, The Corso

A day at the Carson's

We went to a fund raising day for Sam Carson, only 27, who was horribly injured last year.
It was just gorgeous, all his beautiful young friends were there and his sister Sally made a wonderful speech.
The family dog got into the snorkers and kept on hoicking them up all over the shop.
It was very funny as it is a sausage dog, and every time you looked at it, it threw up another sausage.

My dog is an alcoholic

Coco has an enlarged liver.
She has four paws, so I'm thinking a three step recovery programme. 
No waiting.
How did she find us?   Simpatico!