What better way to spend a Sunday afternoon than going for a drive in my brother Bill’s 1957 FC Holden? The engine purred in that wonderful way that modern cars can’t manage because they are all so refined these days; and occasionally it roared as we sped up on the straight sections of Wynnum’s wide roads – Bill thought it would give Lita and me a thrill, which it did (we whooped with delight!). I sat in the back on the turquoise bench seat without the horrid restriction of a seat belt because the regular rules do not apply to vintage cars (what joy!). Pedestrians and other vintage car drivers waved their appreciation and we waved back through the open windows. I felt like a queen. And my orange spotty sun dress complimented the turquoise interior very well…. if you don’t mind me saying so myself.

Sadly,we had the news recently that Holdens will no longer be made in Australia. What a shame…

“Do you want to hear about our snake?” asked Jade, the handsome pilot’s daughter from across the road (from where I am house sitting at present).

I was just returning on my bike from swimming at Joanne’s followed by shopping at the Hyperdome this afternoon (fourteen kilometres all told – desperately dieting and exercising) and I had stopped to speak to the children who were roller-skating at the end of the road near the turning circle. Jade’s six year old brother called Drew (the one with the spiky hair) had already told me that I ought to “get back and guard Sue and Glenn’s house” (I knew from previous experience I could count on Drew for some humour!). Danielle and Bella (their mum accompanied by the family dog) soon came out and joined us.

I nodded with interest and Jade told her tale of the two metre long tree snake that had appeared last week when the family were having a barbecue – her heroic father, in the style of an expert, caught the snake and picked it up by the back of the head before depositing it on wasteland.

“I don’t know why it chose us, out of all the people who live here…” ten year old Jade finished with a wistful ponder.

“How funny that we should both have had snake experiences recently,” I got in quickly because I had my own snake story to tell.

And I told them about my unforgettable trip to Redcliffe last Saturday and my visit to friends who have snakes (as well as dogs) for pets. How could I refuse when asked if I would like to hold a large yellow constrictor named Bonnie? What an excellent opportunity for unusual photographs for my blog! My initial response was purely instinctive – I froze and held my breath – as Bonnie wended her way over and around my head; her tongue licked my face and I felt like Tarzan’s Jane in the jungle. A green snake called Clyde was placed around my neck and the dynamic duo pretended to strangle me, just a little pressure here and there to remind me of their raison d’être (they were not to be tangled with although, indeed, they were tangled around me). Sid, the yellow snake, was a sweetie; he gave me a nice massage on my shoulders.

“Do they get to know you and like you?” I asked.

“No, they just think you’re a warm spot,” said Kendall, the beautiful snake charmer in one of the photo’s, “and don’t hold him like that or he’ll bite you…”

And the following snake photographs are for Jade, Drew and Danielle, so I can show off how brave I am (not, as you can see by my face). The dog is there on the basis of his cuteness, likewise, Kendall is there for her cuteness and the Bee Gees Statue is for fans who may be interested to know that the Bee Gees lived in Redcliffe when the Gibb family moved to Australia.

These came in from Chris (reporting on the spot) yesterday.

“What’s that?” I wondered.

Was I imagining a dark shape moving hurriedly across the floor in the dimness after the lights went out?

That was four nights ago.

Since then I have seen him regularly, here there and everywhere, sometimes running under the fridge, the sofa, in the bathroom, in the passage, on the carpet in the study…but mostly, he liked the white tiled floors, which was rather difficult for him because he was in hiding. He was a stowaway.

To tell the truth, I started to worry about him yesterday – not that I am in favour of illegal immigrants (except in special circumstances) – you see, as you know I am a “Stepford Wife”, which means there is not a single crumb or scrap left on work-tops or floors… And what does his kind eat anyway? Cockroaches are unheard of here, we don’t even have any mosquitoes in Stepford; we do have determined flies, but they get zapped and are probably poisonous by the time they reach the white tiles… if there are any left after I have been around with my incredible house-hoover with the amazing suction.No, I doubt the poor little fellow has had anything to eat in his three days spent with me in modern luxury. If he had yearned to know to know how the other half lives, he now knows – on very little – especially when you stow away with a Stepford dieter.

I fancy he has been looking for an escape route. Certainly for at least a day… since he lost his tail. That was yesterday… when I tried to save him. Oh dear! Then he went all nervous on me and ran under the television. I wonder if he found the air-conditioning a bit cold? Reptiles like it hot – don’t they? Oh dear, and he had lost a little blood…

But do not fear, all is well. Luckily, as I came out of the bathroom a short while ago we chanced to meet again (well, I nearly stepped on him coming out of the linen cupboard) and… I think the photographs say what happened next.

Now don’t get too excited, it wasn’t a Friday devoted entirely to men. I might just as well have entitled my post Little Man Friday or, and more accurately, Little Man on Friday, but I like the romantic connotation of my original choice because I’m fond of the idea of desert islands.

Anyway, I had a lovely day not only with my “Little Man on Friday” Mason, but also with my childhood friend, Lorelle, and her son, Xavier (another gorgeous man – of eighteen). Lorelle had arrived on Thursday and stayed overnight; Mason arrived at eight in the morning (in time for a breakfast of egg and bacon); and we met Xavier in the city where we had a delicious lunch out – Lorelle’s special treat.

Later on Lorelle tried her hand at a spot of cloud shooting at Roland’s and found she was a natural like me. Nobody landed an arrow in the bucket but there was a great deal of discussion, if not argument, about whose arrow landed closest.

Now everyone has gone home and I am all alone. I have looked through the photographs, relived in memory some pleasurable moments and chosen some pictures for my blog to illustrate the highlights of my day. It has been a good day, not least because Mason and I are now firm friends, in fact I love the dear little chap.

Sat here at my computer, I have just noticed an email has come in from Chris – it is headed with the words, “Goodnight Sweet Sally” – isn’t that nice? It almost makes me like my name. I think I’ll phone my man now, while it’s still his Friday (if not mine).

Thanks Rob!
*A pastor’s wife was expecting a baby, so he stood before the congregation *
*and asked for a raise. *
*After much discussion, they passed a rule that whenever the pastor’s *
*family expanded; so would his paycheck. *
*After 6 children, this started to get expensive and the congregation
decided *
*to hold another meeting to discuss the pastor’s expanding salary.*
*A great deal of bickering ensued, as to how much the pastor’s additional
children *
*were costing the church, and how much more it could potentially cost.*
*After listening to them for about an hour, the pastor rose from his chair
and spoke, *
*”Children are a gift from God and we will take as many gifts as He gives
us.” *
*Silence fell over the congregation.*
*In the back pew, a little old lady struggled to stand, and finally said in
her frail voice, *
*”Rain is also a gift from God, but when we get too much of it, we wear
rubbers.”*
*The entire congregation said, “Amen.” *
—————————

Over to Chris for an update on the freakish weather conditions (and our breach in the sea wall) in the sleepy little South West of England which I call home…

You wouldn’t believe it, especially after all the weather troubles we’ve been having here in the West Country over the past couple of weeks, but at noon or thereabouts today, North Devon and West Somerset were subjected to a…….guess what?….an earthquake!!  Okay, it wasn’t exactly earth-shattering (as they say!), but it measured 4.5 on the Richter Scale, and was felt as far south as Exeter, apparently.  Fancy that!  What next, I wonder?  Waterspouts up the Teign Estuary, or maybe a tsunami or three; or was it a Satsuma?

I’ve been looking at the works going on down below, and it’s encouraging to see that, at the points where there have been actual breaches in the sea wall, they have been installing a giant triple line of deep concrete slabs between the railway line and the parapet wall, and, I think, filling the gaps between these slabs with liquid concrete – all mighty stuff, and a great new line of defence if the wall breaks again at these points.  Of course, it doesn’t cater for the scenario (love that word!) of the sea wall breaking at a different point where there aren’t these slabs, but at least it’s something.  I’ll send you some photo’s if you like, but I haven’t taken any yet so far.

(I hope our man sends more photographs.)

I know it is immodest to brag about one’s achievements but I have to tell someone other than Roland, who knows already because he was there and saw (much to his chagrin) that the arrow dropped from a great height and landed straight into the bucket before jumping out again! Hooray! Yes, it can’t be a fluke – it is my third “hole in one” so to speak; well, I made a hole in the bucket on the first occasion.

Now I must go to the Hyperdome for some non-dieting provisions because my slim friend Lorelle is coming to stay this evening. Think I’ll drive over today but I might take my cycle helmet with me in case I should meet that good-looking John again; on second thoughts, I might just wear a pretty white summer dress instead…

I shall leave you with some photographs of yesterday’s cloud shooting extravaganza in Roland’s garden. By the way, for those of you with poor eyesight, no animals were shot at yesterday (although a few birds had to fly quickly out of the way) and the deer was inedible because he is made of resin.

It has been very hot these last few days, so hot that sometimes you don’t know how to get to sleep at night. Actually, in spite of the heat, I slept very well last night; oddly, I discovered that I sleep better with only the thin curtain pulled across the window (even though it lets in light) rather than the heavy, black out blind (which also keeps out the fresh air).

So I awoke quite late but feeling perky and ready for plenty of exercise. The results of my ascetic diet of birdseed like groats and an abundance of salad have been somewhat disappointing to date which must mean I need more exercise. Therefore I cycled the four or five kilometres over to my favourite destination, the Hyperdome. Red-faced and boiling upon my arrival at one of the entrances, I was greeted by a nice lady who was about to go in herself:

“You’ll be able to cool down on those nice chairs inside,” she smiled, “I often come here just for a cool down.”

“Me too,” I said cheerily before she disappeared through the sliding doors.

She was right, as soon as those doors open and you step inside you are transported into a different world – of comfort, cool air and any amusement you can think of… I had no intention of sitting down on chairs though, I was hot, not tired, and it was enough to be in the cool.

My bike was left outside but I carried my cycle helmet with me so it was obvious to all and sundry that I had cycled there; and I wore shorts, socks and trainers. If you want to have conversations with handsome young men, I can recommend carrying a cycle helmet. John was intrigued to know how far I had cycled and we chatted about all sorts of things, including travelling, archery, and cloud shooting…. He didn’t even try to sell me anything or sign me up for charitable good works. What a lovely chap!

Everywhere I went people were similarly friendly and chatty; some asked if I had bought the helmet there or had I actually cycled?

And now it is the end of the day and, after my third shower today, I am dressed ready for bed. My night-wear is new – I bought it from a pretty little underwear shop called “Love your Body” (nice name, if a bit peculiar!); I say “night-wear” because it isn’t a nightie and it isn’t like any pyjamas that I have ever worn before; it came in a pretty box with ribbons and it cost only five dollars… It looked so cute in the box… It looks quite sweet but strange now that I’m wearing it… It is quite figure hugging and has horizontal stripes… Is it pretty? What is it? I’m sure you want to know but how do I answer those questions?

Let me just say that when I went to put out the green rubbish bin a few minutes ago I thought twice about doing so in my night-wear lest the handsome pilot opposite should look out of his window at that very moment and wonder what his eccentric new neighbour was wearing! I reasoned that it was sufficiently dark outside for me to run out unnoticed, deposit the bin and run back inside. I wasn’t bargaining on the garage security lights coming on like a spotlight during my dash to the bin but I had to keep going as there was shade around by the bins. With the bin shielding me, I took it out to the nature-strip for collection, hoping that nobody (especially the gorgeous pilot) would hear the sound of the plastic wheels on the driveway.

The security light went out, leaving me silhouetted against the light emanating from the street lamp on the pavement – for all I know I may have appeared to be naked. One last dash and, if I kept to the left, perhaps I could avoid triggering the garage light. That security light of Glenn and Sue’s is a technological wonder… of course it came on in all its harsh neon glare – enough, maybe, to alert the neighbours to the sight of a burglar dressed in a pink stripy, figure-hugging, short-legged all-in-one (onesie) outfit that looked very much like a Victorian gentleman’s bathing costume, except that it has the words “You Wish” emblazoned in large silver letters on the back!

My youngest brother is always sending me jokes – that is how he keeps in touch – and I love him for it!

A nice, calm and respectable lady went into the pharmacy, walked up to the pharmacist, looked straight into his eyes, and said, “I would like to buy some cyanide.” The pharmacist asked, “Why in the world do you need cyanide?” The lady replied, “I need it to poison my husband.”

The pharmacist’s eyes got big and he explained, “Lord have mercy!
I can’t give you cyanide to kill your husband, that’s against the law? I’ll lose my licence! They’ll throw both of us in jail! All kinds of bad things will happen.. Absolutely not! You CANNOT have any cyanide!”

The lady reached into her purse and pulled out a picture of her husband in bed with the pharmacist’s wife.

The pharmacist looked at the picture and replied, “You didn’t tell me you had a prescription.”