Sunday, November 28, 2010

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.

Saturday, November 27, 2010

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.

Thursday, November 25, 2010

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.

Monday, November 22, 2010

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.

Saturday, November 20, 2010

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.

Friday, November 19, 2010

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.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

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.

Monday, November 15, 2010

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".

Friday, November 12, 2010

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.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

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.

Sunday, November 7, 2010

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.

Friday, November 5, 2010

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.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

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".

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

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.

Monday, November 1, 2010

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.


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