One day in Geelong.

30 08 2012

In the 70’s, Mum and Dad owned a holiday house, at 40 Harvey Road, St Leonards.

St. Leonards is a small town not far from Melbourne, and it sits close to the ocean, in fact all we needed to do to get to the beach, was simply walk to the end of the street.

Though we rarely ever went there, because it was generally too cold.
So we’d be inside reading or playing records, or watching television.

“Holiday House” wasn’t really the proper name for it as something always had to be done.

Dad always seemed to be mowing the lawn, or fencing or painting, or digging a big hole for some reason, while Mum did exactly the same sort of things she did at home.

We had a problem too, whenever we had a few days down there, I’d get sick, and nobody knew why until the day Dad was doing something under the house, and discovered a huge lake of water, directly under my bedroom, so he drained it. The water ran out from under our place…but collected under, and around the house next door, the neighbour was not pleased.

It was towards the end of one of these bouts of ill health that Mum and Dad made a fairly poor decision to go to Geelong for the day.

The day was lovely and sunny as far as I can recall, and We stopped in front of Coles Cafeteria, I think we all loved those, but they’re not around anymore, sadly enough.

We went inside and up the stairs, to where all the food was.

The idea was to take a tray and slide it along the counter, taking whatever food you fancied, and paying at the end of the line.

Mum hoped I’d find something I’d actually eat, since I had not eaten much in several days.

And then I saw it, it was some kind of a milk drink, in a very fancy glass, and had a straw poking out at the side… and it was a lurid green, so of course I wanted it.

Now if you’re hoping Mum told me “NO” and made me get something else, I’m sorry… because
She allowed it, Much to her eternal regret.

So we returned to our table and hopped into our goodies, and I drank that lurid green concoction, whatever it was, I’m not sure if I had anything else, not that it matters.

And then I said those words that nobody wanted to hear.

“Mum, I’m going to be sick”

Mum and Dad leapt to attention, as the first eruptions began to rumble, and grabbed my hand and ran down those steps, towards the glass doors as quickly as they could.

I don’t know how Mum did it, She was so “un-co” that she could trip over a pin, but she bolted down those stairs with the finesse of an athlete.

And just as those glass doors were pushed open, lurid green spew went everywhere, which left a massive green splodge over the footpath as though the Ghost busters had run over Slimer with a Steam Roller.

Mum frantically apologised and was completely red faced, But I think she was relieved that we had at least made it outside the building.

I don’t remember much after that, except that versions of this tale had been told by Mum over the years to practically any sympathetic Mum who’d listen.

Oh, and we never went there again.

Wolfie!

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Speedy, The Monster

20 05 2012

I’m not sure why or when it appeared, but as a child, I had a Monster… And his name was Speedy.

Speedy was a big bully.

He used to fill my dreams with pranks like making the taps work in strange ways, or making light bulbs fill with water, or turning the lights off and leaving me in the dark with just him and I.

And He would threaten to eat me, in that polite sort of tone that He had, and I used to have to beg my way out of it until the dream ended.

“Go to the fridge” I’d suggest. “There’s plenty of food in there”

But No, Speedy was pretty sure he wanted to eat me instead, Speedy was an Arsehole.

I don’t really know what Speedy looked like, but he lived inside the switch of the Electric Blanket.

Sometimes I’d be laying in bed and it was as though someone had turned on the Worlds Biggest Vacuum cleaner and was trying to suck me up… I had to hold onto the sheets for dear life.

One day he appeared as a giant raspberry jelly beside my bed, a sort of gay version of “The Blob”.

Then one fateful day, He did it, He sucked me into the Electric Blanket control, and there I was in total darkness, although I could see Him and I quite plainly.

Speedy was happy, and this time he was going to eat me for sure.

“I’ll just have to get some mustard” He said.

But Speedy had made one fatal error.

He looked just like a giant salad roll, which happened to be one on MY Favourites.

And that was the end of Speedy.





One plus One

13 05 2012

It doesn’t add up…

Some people say that a child, if He or She is to be bought up well, Should have both a Mother and a Father.

This is their argument against Gay partners with kids.

So what happens if you have a situation where there was a very loving heterosexual relationship, but something terrible happened to one of the parents, resulting in their death, and one parent is left to bring up the child?

Or if there had been a divorce, or one parent simply walked out?

Or If one or both of the parents had been abusive?

it’s simply not always possible for the child to have a Mother and a Father. and It’s very convenient for those against Same Sex Marriage, to ignore these circumstances, isn’t it?

Wolfie!





Travis

22 06 2011

Here’s my bit on Travis, Who you may have read, had included Furries with Child Molesters, Rapists and Anarchists. in a nasty little piece he’d written on the Wall Street Journal.

Travis clearly hasn’t done his homework on Furries, We don’t want Rapists or Child Molesters in our group any more than anyone else wants them in theirs. Surely there is enough information on Furries for any self-respecting Journo to read, so that they know what they’re talking about before putting pen to paper?

However I found Travis’ inclusion of Anarchists amusing, especially when reading his right wing vitriol.

Doesn’t Anarchist mean someone who despises their government and acts against it?

Which appears to be exactly what Travis is doing.

How nice of him to include himself among the nasties he listed, including those horrible Furries.

Wolfie!

Wall Street Journal