Well, actually, it wasn’t quite the last straw (though it sounds good) but who knows how many are left in the world? Perhaps I should explain…

At the time – last Saturday afternoon – Chris and I were at a wonderful place called “The Barn”. We had been enchanted by the setting and the authentic atmosphere of old Australia when our friends Val and Terry had taken us there on a previous visit to Toowoomba four years ago. This time there were some new additions – Scotty’s Garage, Texaco petrol pumps and a nineteen forties Ford in the forecourt – and I was transported back to my childhood (not that I was around in the forties!).

Inside The Barn the others ordered modern coffee – cappuccinos (unheard of in bush towns in the sixties) – whilst I plumped for a diet Coke in a can (in my childhood “The real thing” came in curvy little glass bottles that, when empty, also doubled up as fishing lines).

“Would you have any straws please?” I asked the waitress.

“Oh, aren’t there some in the holder?” she responded.

“No,” I answered, “don’t worry, I can manage without one.”

“Oh that’s alright,” she smiled, “I’ll find you one from out back and bring it over to you.”

A minute or two later the pretty blonde was as good as her word and brought out a single straw. She seemed very pleased with herself and I was happy to receive such hospitality The straw felt rather strange to my fingertips, not smooth – even a little knobbly – and quite unlike straws to which I have grown accustomed. During the course of our conversation, and many sips through the straw, I found that the end of straw was getting wet and soft, so much so that I had to turn it upside down and resume sucking from the other end. I chuckled to myself. I hadn’t enjoyed a Coke so well in a long time. Before leaving I took my empty can, complete with the wet straw, to the counter.

“Thank you for the nostalgic experience of drinking through a paper straw,” I beamed.

“It’s the last straw,” the lady’s husband turned to me from behind the bar, “at least, I bought two and a half thousand of them sixteen years ago and there are about two thousand left, but then that could well be the last of them. Here, have a couple more.”

I gave one to Val and kept one to give my brother Bill. I wonder if he will recognise the waxy coating when I hand it to him…. Will he say, “Well that’s the last straw?”