“Hell’s teeth!” Chris thought as he saw the little dog scamper under the table.

(Or perhaps he thought “Les dents de l’enfer!” because we were in Brittany, although I doubt that Chris is good enough at French to think of such expressions in that language.)

The incident happened a couple of years ago when we were staying with my brother-in-law Glynn and his wife Roly, and we were visiting some good friends of theirs from down the road. In hospitable fashion the friends had brought out a loaf of bread, various cheeses and some meat pâtés to accompany the wines. Unfortunately, the bread, which looked very wholesome and seedy, was, as it transpired, rather old and tough, and too hard for the delicate dentistry practiced in dear old England. This, we discovered only after taking out first bites (after which I quickly developed a nibbling and sucking technique); alas, Chris had already fallen foul of the devilish bread, which, in something of a “tug’o’war”, would not tear without taking one of Chris’s crowns with it. This I didn’t realise until a short time after I saw the little French dog run under the table and Chris shooing away the insistent dog away from his foot…

Having bent down to retrieve something from under his shoe, Chris caught my eye and revealed an incomplete set of teeth in his flashing smile; surreptitiously, he pointed at the disappointed dog and opened his palm to show me a crown, now all the more treasured because he had come so close to losing it to a hungry canine. Not that the dog was particularly partial to eating teeth, surely, he must have thought the crown was one of the large seeds in tough old bread to which he had become accustomed. And while all this was happening the group of delightful French folk chatted and laughed, and no doubt threw hard crusts of old seedy bread under the table. They may well have wondered why the dog was more interested in Chris’s shoe… for Chris didn’t tell the party about his little problem. Luckily English people have stiff upper lips, which come in handy when you’re trying to hide your missing crown!

Recently I have had cause to be reminded about Chris and his close shave. One morning at my brother Henry’s place I took my first bite of what I considered to be an innocent bowl of puffed wheat cereal when I felt something odd – a small movement in my mouth – and I soon realised that my new veneer had dislodged. Even smaller than a grain of puffed wheat,  the veneer rested atop a pink table-mat on Henry’s table cloth until I could think of a safe place to put it (and meanwhile I did the housework).

The top of the table was as shiny and clean as the the wooden floor when I suddenly thought of my veneer. Panic! All mats and table-cloth put away, surfaces done and dusted and no sign of anything remotely like a tooth. I put on my glasses and went down to floor level to search with a fine-tooth comb. Nothing. What did I do with the table-mat? At last, after much “chomping at the bit”, I decided to check the rubbish bag (only newly changed that morning)…

“Hell’s teeth!” I said to myself (with a slight Australian inflection because I’m in Australia) as I recovered the veneer looking like a piece of discarded puffed wheat. I daresay I was smiling to myself  with relief – no need for any stiff upper lip, I was on my own (and it’s not a front tooth!).

Inspired by recent experience, here is my version of a song similar to  “The Pina Colada Song”:

I am into my cycling, it is my daily routine
No matter the weather, we’re quite a hardy team
Now the clouds were aforming, as my breakfast went down
This was early this morning, but I didn’t even frown cos…

If you like Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain
You don’t mind getting soaked, you see it as a gain
If you like showers with your clothes on, it’s a joy and a jape
I may be peculiar, but for me it’s escape

Didn´t think about all the washing, well you know what I mean
Because me and my red bike, had fallen for the self-same alluring dream
We like looking at flowers, don’t care if you think we’re mad
We are into spring showers, can that really be so bad

Yes, I like Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain
Although I´m not into dead cane toads, being carried down the drain
And I’m rather worried about hailstones, in Oz the size can be great
And I don’t care for lightning, think we´ll plan our escape

So I didn’t wait with high hopes, in that beautiful place
I dropped the phone in an instant, I tried to keep up a pace
Had to leave the lovely lilies, and the ball-hunters too
And I laughed for a moment, because I already knew…

Luckily, I like Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain
And my feet in the water, as I ride over the drain
Taking off my sunglasses, because ahead I can’t see any shape
In the absolute downpour, that came with me, in escape

If you like Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain
You don’t mind getting soaked, you see it as a gain
If you like showers with your clothes on, it’s a joy and a jape
I guess you must be peculiar, if you call it escape

And now for Rupert Holmes “Escape”:

• Rupert Holmes – Escape/The Pina Colada Song (Lyrics)frozenwhiskers314,834 views
  4:39

I was tired of my lady, we´d been together too long
Like a worn-out recording, of a favorite song
So while she lay there sleeping, I read the paper in bed
And in the personals column, there was this letter I read

“If you like Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain
If you´re not into yoga, if you have half a brain
If you like making love at midnight, in the dunes of the cape
I´m the love that you´ve looked for, write to me, and escape”

I didn´t think about my lady, I know that sounds kind of mean
But me and my old lady, had fallen into the same old dull routine
So I wrote to the paper, took out a personal ad
And though I´m nobody´s poet, I thought it wasn´t half bad

“Yes, I like Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain
I´m not much into health food, I am into champagne
I´ve got to meet you by tomorrow noon, and cut through all this red tape
At a bar called O’Malley’s, where we´ll plan our escape”

So I waited with high hopes, then she walked in the place
I knew her smile in an instant, I knew the curve of her face
It was my own lovely lady, and she said, “Oh, it´s you”
And we laughed for a moment, and I said, “I never knew”

“That you liked Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain
And the feel of the ocean, and the taste of champagne
If you like making love at midnight, in the dunes of the cape
You´re the love that I´ve looked for, come with me, and escape”

“If you like Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain
If you´re not into yoga, if you have half a brain
If you like making love at midnight, in the dunes of the cape
I’m the love that you’ve looked for, come with me, and escape”

“Shall we pack it in then?” I asked.

“Let’s just have one last cast before we leave,” answered our fishing mad friend Roland from Brisbane.

“Righteo,” I agreed cheerfully, “but I think I’ll revert to the chicken giblets, even if they are a bit old now. At least they stay on.” (Well sometimes they do!)

When you’re staying with a fisher-person, and you enjoy fishing yourself, you simply have to make the most of fishing opportunities, which is what happened this morning. We agreed to make an early start and leave around seven in order to beat the heavy traffic heading for the city. I was ready at half-past six but we set off at about ten past seven. Being a tad later than planned made no difference at all – we still met the heavy traffic (which peaks between the hours of five to nine in the morning these days). It took an hour – twice as long as the non-peak time between nine and two o’clock – to reach my brother Bill’s place at Tingalpa.

“I don’t think you’ll catch anything at Wynnum,” commented my older brother with a smile. “I’ve never heard of anyone catching anything from the jetty.”

“We might be the exception,” I suggested and Roland acquiesced.

Out of curiosity Bill went down to the jetty with us and helped us carry the bait and tackle box.

“There’s not much water,” Bill observed, ” no more than six inches, I’d say.”

“Maybe there’s more at the end,” I offered and walked to the end.

I looked beyond the barnacles and oysters enjoying the fresh air from below the steps and was heartened to see that there was a little more water past the rugged rocks.

At last, after thirty minutes or so of pleasant banter but fruitless fishing we decided to pack up and try somewhere else.

“It might not be so windy at Gumdale Creek,” suggested Bill.

And it wasn’t. The tide was out but at least it wasn’t windy, and there was shade under the roofs of the specially designed fishing decks at the creek. The first, and best deck (owing to the cutting table and tap), was already taken by three fishermen so we had to make do with the less desirable one.

A couple of hours passed and there were cries of jubilation from the first deck. I looked across and thought I saw them landing a huge lobster…

“Is it a lobster?” I asked.

“No, it’s a tree,” one of the fisherman called back, “but it’s the first thing I’ve ever caught here!”

They were good-natured chaps – fisherfolk are usually nice friendly people – however, I suspected that they had lost heart. My suspicions were confirmed when they left a few minutes later. Roland and I seized the opportunity and dashed over to the prized first fishing deck with the big silver table for dissecting both bait and catches.

We dissected a few raw prawns, once fresh but now twice frozen and thawed; and some chicken giblets, long since fresh and frozen and thawed thrice; and some diced raw chicken breast (age unknown to me). We kept on sending out the bait into the middle of the creek, where it appeared deepest, and the water rose steadily, but still there were no catches. The lines tugged and the bait dissappeared yet no fish were tempted to take a good bite… not on small hooks, medium sized hooks, whale hooks or sneaky double hooks.

The sun burned through the sun screen cream on my arms and I was getting hungry when we became convinced that the creek was home to several gigantic and clever old mud crabs who were experienced at denuding any sized hooks of any old bait. And that’s when we were going to “pack it in”…

A moment later we heard some people coming along the bush track and a teenage boy appeared.

“You’re welcome to come here,” Roland beckoned with his hands outstretched to show our deck had a desirable big table, “we’re just about to leave.”

The boy was followed by another lad, a man and woman, and a stroppy girl.

“You’re welcome to come here because we’re going,” Roland said again, this time to the adults.

Before long pilchards were chopped on the table and three rods were cast out. The friendly adults were teachers from Darling Point Special School and the three teenagers were in their last year of school – they were on a school outing. In no time at all the teacher reeled in a Moses Perch, small but feisty, and the boy Matthew was rewarded with a bonny (and perhaps bony) bream just minutes later.

“Would you like to try our pilchards?” asked the kindly teacher.

“I was hoping you’d offer,” I laughed.

The same fat old crabs in the middle of the creek stole our fresh pilchard heads. Roland and I left before becoming any more frazzled. Sadly for us, we can’t say that there were no fish today. Actually, we were pretty chuffed that the kids were having such fun and success. On our way back to the car we looked at each other and said in unison, “Next time we’ll bring pilchards!”

And did you know there was a song called “No Fish Today”?

Kid Creole & The Coconuts – No Fish Today (Live) – YouTube

▶ 4:35

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ECX1I2xx8gQ

Aug 28, 2011 – Uploaded by parkhill62

Kid