Taken a little after Christmas, here is Henry looking bemused after I reflected upon a tale of lessons learned long ago.
Here I found myself and the little bloke standing outside a licensed establishment that sometime ago had a somewhat less than wholesome reputation. I remember one incident clearly, just before closing, with only the tired and emotional flotsam and jetsam that remains after a big night. Of course, at this point flotsam is threatening to smash jetsam's head in with a bar stool over some trifle incident involving the relative merits of Ian Botham over Imran Khan.
Kinky Friedman summed up Friday nights like this better than anyone else I can think of when he observed
Friday night was the night most people thought they were supposed to have fun. Trouble was most people didn't know what fun was or how to have it, so things usually ended up pretty ugly.
So this particular Saturday morning was the ugly child of another Friday night when this 'lady' with cutoff jeans four sizes too small and bruises on her thighs bigger than the tattoos on her arms came barging in the doors as people were rolling out the doors and asked a philosophical question that has been pondered over the ages.
In a voice that betrayed too many cigarettes, and more miles on the clock than her years would suggest, she asked (bellowed) this particular query:
"What's a sheila got to do to get a root 'round 'ere?!?"
In my tired - and perhaps cloudy - brain, I thought this a good question, a question for the ages. I considered it for a moment, but even before I could address it in my mind an answer had been found.
It appears that on this night, in this place, what a sheila had to do to procure "a root" was bellow "What's a sheila got to do to get a root 'round 'ere?!?"
Comments
I remember as a child pondering over those deep religious questions about how/where/is there, and coming to the conclusion that, as I concluded there was no such thing as god, it would be way more believable and better if there was a cave somewhere, with an extremely empathetic, caring, kind, approachable and benevolent person sitting on a throne, bestowing judgements on or answering questions for you, no matter what question you came to him/her with.
How bemused would that person be with your 'lady'?
BTW - I note your comment made Page 12 of todays Mercury in your professional capacity of Acting CEO.
As for the Mercury, pffft, how sad of me to expect them to record my comments to them in their full context. Heaven forbid that they report a positive spin on a story though, far better to focus on an organisation that can be relied upon to whinge and moan!
I've had a big week media wise, top story on SCN News (needed a haircut and shave, although I did have the suit on), ABC radio mornings live interview with Louise, WIN News, all the papers. Everybody wants to talk to me, only they don't want complexity and aren't very happy that I'm not criticising the Minister! Can't have anyone praising a good decision.
A sheila is Australian for person of the female persuasion.
I hope that this helps explain things a little more.
It says "stop the wailing", which is kind of amusing when you consider that Henry hates whales and wants to see more of them on his dinner plate.
He has little respect for mammals that live in water. He is more a shark and crocodile man.
I've read that next one-day between Australia and South Africa is going to be in Hobart. Any chance you are going to see that :-)? Then, can't wait to read your report and bet there will be lots of references (in that report) to Henry and Ezra :-).
He sure is turning out to be one charming, handsome, strapping lad... I surely would like to have the pleasure of his acquaintance some day.
The nuclear power ad was good. In fact, most of the ads that you put up on your blog are worthy of the comments that you make on them.
Bye and take care.
Mo, every day!
Yamini, he will have to visit India one day. I understand that he has quite a following there!