Last week I was invited to lunch at a golf club. Not my usual hangout but as a writer seeking source material I always give something a go. To be fair I have played a few rounds of golf in the past but gave up as somehow it did not have the physical contact I was used to in my usual sporting pursuits. The golfing genes have clearly not been passed down from my grandmother who it was rumoured to be ladies champion of Lancashire for many years. I thought this could just be another family myth of which there are many. I have just googled this and confirmed she was never ladies’ champion. Thank goodness for AI. I knew there was a use for it.
As to lunch we were eventually served by a very young waiter. Wine was an issue for him as he had a novel way of pouring the wine. Instead of putting the glass on the table and then pouring, he held up the glass to his eye-level and then poured the wine. Maybe he thought we were in a chemistry lab. I almost felt like teaching him how to pour it but realised it is not the done thing to train the waiting staff at the golf club especially when you are a guest.
My host told me that the dress code is either a tie or jacket or both. Looking around I saw one table wore ties, but two tables wore neither ties nor jackets. When I pointed this out to my octogenarian host, he came over all faint. When he had recovered, he told me of an incident decades ago when a member entered the dining room with neither a tie nor a jacket. This was too much for the members who then stripped him naked, threw him out of the club and chased him down the road back into the city. How standards have slipped.
***
Who said, ‘we can all be whores with someone else’s arse?’ It was Javier Milei, the President of Argentina, who was referring to years of profligate government spending on the public sector and welfare payments. I have never heard such a colourful description of fiscal policy. I think I will forward this to Jim Chalmers and Rachel Reeves.
.
Jesus wants me for a sunbeam
It is that time in the cycle again. Every two years the government sends me a bowel cancer testing kit with which I am meant to return a faecal sample. The problem is I have lost the test kit and the return envelope. Undeterred I have laid a deposit in a normal envelope and I have sellotaped it as best as I can. There is a little seepage from the sides, but I am sure Australia Post can handle that. Not knowing where to send it, I have sent it to the Prime Minister’s office as our newly elected Prime Minister seems to have a solution to all of Australia’s problems. I am sure he must know the relevant department. I’m hoping for confirmation of receipt.
***
I recently had the chance to go to a ZZ Top concert, which for all who know me must surely regard as an aberration. Always game for source material I was undeterred in putting on my sensation seeker’s hat. I was looking forward to it as I had listened to ‘Gimme all your lovin’. It was the first time I had been to a concert of contemporary music as my usual gig, if you will excuse the pun, has been classical concerts including opera and ballet. My fellow concertgoers were slack-jawed when I told them it was my first time. It was if I had just admitted to being a virgin. Each to his own.
It was certainly throwback time. There were a lot of aged rockers, both on and off stage, while numerous rocker chicks, both young and old, wore jeans far too tight for them. As ZZ Top has been visiting Adelaide since 1981 some of their original supporters had turned up, beards and all, with younger members of their family trying to emulate their granddads. You do not often see that in modern society, but this was clearly a family event. I was impressed by the number of ZZ Top beards given their scarcity in the circles in which I move. Where these people live, I know not. Clearly not the eastern suburbs.
Ahead of sitting down I inserted earplugs, but on second thoughts I added two others just to make sure. I am now waiting to get them surgically removed at the end of June. An eight week wait, but that is why you pay for private health insurance. The first act was George Thorogood and the Destroyers. They all had surprisingly good heads of hair even though they were all 72. Though not all was well with their bodies. The bass guitarist at one stage had his legs spread so wide he seemed to be attempting the splits. Either that or his hips had locked. After 10 minutes, having been immobile from the hips down, we knew his hips had actually locked. Their session ended early so he could be taken off.
Returning to our seats post interval, the stage was literally a wall of speakers. With two sets of earplugs in place I felt confident I could survive. I had not reckoned on the G-force of the blast. I looked round and it all looked as if we were all skydiving as the flesh of our faces was flattened. A few days later I was asked what the concert was like. ‘LOUD. VERY LOUD.’ My questioner could not understand why I was shouting.
Jesus wants me for a sunbeam
It is that time in the cycle again. Every two years the government sends me a bowel cancer testing kit with which I am meant to return a faecal sample. The problem is I have lost the test kit and the return envelope. Undeterred I have laid a deposit in a normal envelope and I have sellotaped it as best as I can. There is a little seepage from the sides, but I am sure Australia Post can handle that. Not knowing where to send it, I have sent it to the Prime Minister’s office as our newly elected Prime Minister seems to have a solution to all of Australia’s problems. I am sure he must know the relevant department. I’m hoping for confirmation of receipt.
***
I recently had the chance to go to a ZZ Top concert, which for all who know me must surely regard as an aberration. Always game for source material I was undeterred in putting on my sensation seeker’s hat. I was looking forward to it as I had listened to ‘Gimme all your lovin’. It was the first time I had been to a concert of contemporary music as my usual gig, if you will excuse the pun, has been classical concerts including opera and ballet. My fellow concertgoers were slack-jawed when I told them it was my first time. It was if I had just admitted to being a virgin. Each to his own.
It was certainly throwback time. There were a lot of aged rockers, both on and off stage, while numerous rocker chicks, both young and old, wore jeans far too tight for them. As ZZ Top has been visiting Adelaide since 1981 some of their original supporters had turned up, beards and all, with younger members of their family trying to emulate their granddads. You do not often see that in modern society, but this was clearly a family event. I was impressed by the number of ZZ Top beards given their scarcity in the circles in which I move. Where these people live, I know not. Clearly not the eastern suburbs.
Ahead of sitting down I inserted earplugs, but on second thoughts I added two others just to make sure. I am now waiting to get them surgically removed at the end of June. An eight week wait, but that is why you pay for private health insurance. The first act was George Thorogood and the Destroyers. They all had surprisingly good heads of hair even though they were all 72. Though not all was well with their bodies. The bass guitarist at one stage had his legs spread so wide he seemed to be attempting the splits. Either that or his hips had locked. After 10 minutes, having been immobile from the hips down, we knew his hips had actually locked. Their session ended early so he could be taken off.
Returning to our seats post interval, the stage was literally a wall of speakers. With two sets of earplugs in place I felt confident I could survive. I had not reckoned on the G-force of the blast. I looked round and it all looked as if we were all skydiving as the flesh of our faces was flattened. A few days later I was asked what the concert was like. ‘LOUD. VERY LOUD.’ My questioner could not understand why I was shouting.