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O’Way Returns.
By: Hung One on.
God, Jesus H. Christ, long distance plane travel is boring, but I’m coming, home, yes, coming, ho, ho, ho, hmmm, yes coming, ohh, ahh, oh yes [Stop, cut, Voice here, Look Sandy please don’t divert off the story with this silly innuendo about sexual experiences, okay? Otherwise none of my friends will visit this website, do you understand me?] [Okay, okay, I’ll stick to the story, sheez, I’m starting to get square bracket phobia] Anyway I’m headed home back to the Window Dressers Arms Pig and Whistle, a Trotters, my mates, can’t wait. Belinda left a few days earlier after a phone call from Glenda, her big sister, “Belinda, get home, Merv wants us to clean up the pub and anyway I’m sure you’ve had enough of him”
I enter the bar and am in heaven. Astyages is in the corner in his wheelchair due to his broken leg, “Sandy” he roars “You old bastard, Merv a pint for the good Father, put it on Emmjay’s tab”. “Thank you my dear poet, how the devil are you?” “Yes good Father although there are strange things afoot here in the shire, oops, sorry, wrong story, no everything’s fine Sandy. Now is that right that England won the last test by 200 runs? Sorry, what was that Sandy?” Okay, okay. Astyages and Jayell are in fits of laughter over their triumph.
Gez and Helvi come over and slap me on the back nearly knocking out my false teeth that I borrowed from Emmjay in London. “Good to see you old man, how’s the world?” “Stuffed Gez” I reply “No Trotters Ale and the Aussies lost the Ashes”. “Angela’s Ashes Sandy? I’ll loan you my copy, pipes in Helvi. “Different set of Ashes Helvi, thanks anyway” I retort.

Gez been won over (for a duck)
Merv approaches “Sandy, you dickhead, what happened at the Oval? Thought you was goin’ to streak? Save the game and all that.” Slight problem with timing, I mean I didn’t know that a Test could be over before five days, five days of tedium I might add. “Got busy Merv” I meekly replied, “Oh well, shit happen Sandy, wedges?” says Merv as he proffers some wedges. Hmmm, granny’s wedges, I’ve a penchant for wedges, especially vegemite and herring flavour, “Bewdy Merv” I splutter as I cram in a gob full.

Poms in victory
“Hey Sandy” Merv prompts “That Bish bloke, comes around here sometimes looking for you, mate, what actually is his name?” The Bish, oh no, not the Bish, looking for me, isn’t he on holidays? “The Bishop”? I inquire, “Yeah, The Bishop?” Merv presses “Bishop” I say, “Yeah, that’s right Sandy, the Bishop” Merv looks puzzled, “Bishop” I reply, “Pardon?” [Stop, cut it right there, Voice here again, for fuck sake Merv, you single digit IQ knuckle dragging Neanderthal, Sandy’s trying to tell you that the Bishop’s name is Bishop, you tool, an amoeba has more brains than you] “Bishop Bishop” The bar roars with laughter. Bishop Bishop how terrible is that. Warrigal, who has been sitting patiently and is spitting out spurts of beer “Yeah I met a copper once by the name of Constable, Constable Constable”. Well the bar is alight now. Tears are rolling down cheeks and hands are delving into pockets for tissues. Algernon, who has been laughing so hard his face has turned red “Hey what about that guy in Catch 22, Major Major” The bar cracks up with laughter. Tutu, Glenda and Helvi decide to adjourn to the ladies lounge. “Sergeant Sergeant” “Judge Judge” “Richard Dick!” Ah yes the Trotters Ale is working a treat, no antidote needed here, these are my people, and to quote Steely Dan, I’m home at last, home at last….
Well Hung I suppose 20 ain’t bad
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Father,
Would calling Frankfurt the most boring city in creation be blasphemous ? I’ve had to kill ten hours here. Lonely Planet presaged a dull grey spot, but it’s Monday and the threee museums were shut. The Open top bus tour revealed that their twin towers are referred to by the locals as “debit” and “credit”.
FTSE and Dax ? Dicks, more like it. Think a cross between Canberra on a public holiday and an accounts receivable ledger.
I’m thinking of sticking flaming franks under my eyelids to liven things up.
Only four more hours till takeoff and 21 more till I’m back in God’s own.
I sincerely promise to not encourage the Bish to send you to such remote possibilities, sorry singularities.
Your son (DNA results withheld)
Emmjay.
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If you think Frankfurt is depressing, try arriving in Fremantle back in 1956 and buy a lamington.
My entire family lost the will to live within 10 minutes of arrival.
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Then again, you could try Frankfurt in 1956.
Last time I returned to Australia I had left us with 10 hours to kill in Kulala Lumpur; a bit of a hurried booking because I hadn’t realise till we got there.
We went off to some markets to potter about and have a dirt cheap delicious lunch at a stall, then the Butterfly House followed by a beautiful garden. Saw the KL version of the twin towers in the distance; the city certainly had grown since I’d last been there. Then back to the airport to stand guard while the kids dozed on a bench for a few hours. A fortuitous mistake.
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Not a bad idea of gO to go to a German bakery though; last chance for a while.
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Now that you’re back…….
Dominus vobiscum.
Et cum spirito tuo etc.
Forgive me Father for I have sinned. It’s been yonks since my last confession. Do you think you can give me a bulk deal? Or, maybe I could do something for you……., eh?
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I’m beyond help
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Nice to to have you back Father. Another pint of Trotters.
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Thank you kind Sir, pints all round I believe
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Now look here Hung Hung, I think that you’re getting too much sauce!
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Shiraz sauce would have to be my favourite
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I… I… I… Your mind is a labyrinth, HOO!
Without Ariadne’s ball of wool I’m lost the moment I step into it; and I ain’t got no wooly balls at hand!
Glad you had some fun up there in Engeland and hope the trip back doesn’t leave you drained and totally debilitated. Long hauls like this always knock me dead.
Bugger the cricket. I get more enjoyment watching the spaghetti softening in the boiling water!
Say cheese at the aussie Customs Officer!
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Hows Japan?
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Japan was waiting for me to go and fix her political plumbing, so I did. There’s still a bit of work to do there, particularly with the Yakuza Sewage Works but I’ll pay her another visit next year and see how she’s doing.
Meantime, the foreign language schools are doing a burgeoning business and of those, the English schools take the biggest slice of the pie.
The people are friendly and the dining table huge.
Easy to get lost but! No street names anywhere.
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I appear to have have been channeling Belinda Neale that day. Shudder.
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Tough gig Voice, someones gotta do it
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Hung, I kept my promise and took that lovely photo of those two Bowral boys….
Nice little story. Those English cricketers for sure look good, I’m almost won over.
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Thanks Helvi. I’m glad you said almost
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Wheelchair? I should be so lucky! But your reference to my cricketing skite had me rotflol-ing like a crazy man! I’m not sure how I feel about being described as ‘one of Father O’Way’s people’ though… that’s a bit of a worry…
😉
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The Pigs Arms crew are like family
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Maybe, Hung; but if so, Father O’Way is definitely the black sheep!
😉
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