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Acronyms, God how I hate acronyms. Usually stupid and generally meaningless along with mnemonics they stick in your head to remind you just how stupid you really are. Remember as kids in the parish school the all time classic, ARITHMETIC, A Red Indian Thought He Might Eat Tobacco In Church. What twaddle. Racist diatribe if ever there was one. I mean the only red Indians I knew were constantly having the shit shot out of them in country and western movies. Eat in church was a given no no and who in their right mind would want to eat tobacco for God sake. My dad used to smoke Cabin Cut, Ready Rolled, can I imagine dad hoeing into his tobacco after tea in the lounge, no way.
Anyway the one acronym that makes me tingle with pleasure is POTTY. The Potty Awards, the Priest Of The Tropical Year Awards and yes, I’m in the pipeline to win this year. See I’ve been invited to the Rectory to have dinner with the Bish and an important guest this Wednesday. Not next Wednesday or last Wednesday but the Wednesday before the Saturday night of the awards. Obviously the Bish wants to disclose that I’m this year’s winner so I can have my acceptance speech ready to rock. Oh yes, all 32 pages, ready to roll thanks to the kind Voice who helped me pen an appropriate dialogue.
I enter the Grand Dining Room at the Rectory. It’s dimly lit for the mood and a table is set for three with all of the plates and correct wine glasses. I can see this guest must be someone really special. Belinda informed me the night before that the Bish had asked her to prepare a special feast with an Indian theme, yummy, my favourite. Ah the beautiful Belinda, as the Head Caterer for the Rectory she does a brilliant job, in fact she does a brilliant head [Cut it, stop, Helvi here, now Sandy, best behaviour please, I’ve been waiting for this story, don’t spoil it, otherwise I’ll be round to stick a rollmop where the sun don’t shine] head nod, yes the nod of her head makes me shiver with anticipation.
The Bish approaches with someone by his side, a pale looking man in a flat cap “Sandy, I’d like you to meet Gordon, Gordon O’Donnell”, oh shit, it’s him, the man in the dream about his Stat-o-matic 4000 that he lent to that interminable bore Grigor Ian Chant “Yes we’ve met Bishop” I reply nervously, I mean it’s not every day you get to meet the creator of the universe. “Pleased to meet you Sandy, the Bish has told me lots about you” Gordon declares. Gee, I hope the Bish didn’t tell him about the affair with the housekeeper and my secret liaisons with Belinda. “Here’s the Stat-o-matic 4000 Your Exalted Being” I gush stupidly as I press the little gizmo in Gordon’s direction, “Please call me Gordon or Gordy, no need for formalities here” instructs Gordon as he pockets the device.
Belinda enters the room and as usual her appearance is enough to lighten any room and she directs us to the table. Food is served, Fish Pakoras and Vegetable Samosas to start plus some delightful Chardonnay from the Clare Valley. Mains are Rogan Josh, Chicken Tandoori, Palau Rice and sambals of banana in yoghurt, tomatoes with mint and hot mango chutney. All washed down with a Jim Barry Shiraz. Dessert follows as lemon ice cream and a Botrytis Riesling. I am savouring ever mouthful while the Bish and Gordon debate cricket and without the Stat-o-matic I can’t add anything much except “Oh, yes, Steve Woe was my favourite”. This stops the Bish and Gordon who after a pause burst out laughing “It’s Steve Waugh as in War” Oops. Anyway dinner finishes and the Bish goes off into another room to smoke that stinky stuff and Gordon ushers me into the study for a French Brandy that’s about 200 years old he just happened to find in his cellar and a cigar. How civilised. “Now Sandy, I’m sure you have some questions for me but first how do you feel about space travel?” Gordon asks. “Space travel? What about the Potty Awards?” I inquire lubricated by the fine wine. Gordon smiles “Don’t worry about them, that prick Basil Sauce will win this year. There are bigger plans afoot for you….”
granny said:
What do I know about wines???? During my move I packed up a couple of boxes of wine, they had been stored wrapped in newspaper and laid down on the side – I saw on tv the wineries laying bottles on the side. Hill of Grace Shiraz, I thought I saw that label on a few of the bottles. Bingo, there are 5 bottles packed away in the boxes. Seeing that I don’t drink, I guess we will just grow old together. We went to SA back in the 70s, and my late husband fancied himself as a wine connoisseur and purchased a case of the wine. Maybe I should take up drinking!!!! Maybe the stuff has turned to vinegar by now seeing that I live in the tropics…..
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astyages said:
Nice one Hung… I think I’m in love with Belinda… Don’t her melons look good? So juicy and inviting…
😉
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Hung One On said:
Exactly old chap, just as melons should look, hows the leg?
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astyages said:
About 50 kgs lighter and it no longer picks up radio 5AD…
😉
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gerard oosterman said:
Yes Warrigal,
Those Andean wines. We remember it well. Mendoza on the way to Chile’s Valparaiso. It is Argentine’s largest wine growing region with some vines dating back to 1600.
Helvi and I had a nice bottle of white in a restaurant whereby all and sundry were watching a porn movie. We had the best chicken ever and we strolled back to our hotel happy.
In Argentina no one goes out and eat before 9pm, which is about the time we normally and soberly turn in and check our electric blanket here.
Buenos Aires, where entire cows are strung up rotating around a fire and hacked at by chefs to satisfy jam packed restaurants and their customers.
Oh, lets all play up again. I feel like doing the Lambada to-night. Bugger the baker
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H said:
Gerard, I noticed that you have put the same post here twice, have you been getting into the Henschke?
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Hung One On said:
He is trying to get me to a half century
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Mirriyuula said:
Won’t the baker mind?
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Madeleine said:
Can you take Father O’Way off to therapy please?
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voicec said:
I feel much the same Madeleine.
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voicec said:
HOO don’t take that the wrong way; I like your ideas just not the character you’ve applied them to.
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Madeleine said:
As if any Belinda could possibly be interested in servicing a creep like FO’W. Maybe it’s the sudden shifts from normal prose where one reads unguarded into FO’W creep time that requires sudden self-protection that hurts so much.
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Hung One On said:
Voice, I am a bit confused by what you mean, could you elaborate?
Maddy, I don’t see Sandy as a creep, how is this so?
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Hung One On said:
And what therapy do you think the good father needs?
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Algernon said:
Hung, I’m suprised they didn’t start with an Indian Pale Ale.
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Hung One On said:
A fine drop an all, I think they were being cautious of the good Father’s wheat intolerance
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Algernon said:
How does Father handle a prawn vindaloo.
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Hung One On said:
With great caution
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H said:
See what you done Hung, now I have to cook a curry (tomorrow); I always make enough for two days, it’s always better on the second day…
I noticed that there is only the author’s name under the title, no more Emmjay, Oosterman or voicec, much clearer this way.
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Hung One On said:
Whats your favourite H?
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H said:
I love when Gez cooks ‘raan’, a North Indian lamb curry; the leg of lamb is marinated with many spices and yougart , lemon juice, raisins and more, for a day, then cooked for four hours in not too hot oven…heavenly.
I like my own vegetable curries too, but at those times when it’s only two of us here I’ll have do something meatier to keep hubby happy.
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Hung One On said:
The lamb sounds great to me H, love the slow cook. Will send you my slow roasted chicken recipe
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voicec said:
I agree it’s much better Helv wihout someone else’s name. Achieved I suppose by registering as a contributor as per the To Contributors page and posting it himself.
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voicec said:
Or maybe not posting it himself? But registering as a contributor at least. I think?
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Mirriyuula said:
That dinner sounds mouth watering. I love Rogan Josh, though I’d partner it with the ’76 Hill of Grace” Shiraz if I could afford it. Which I can’t, but I do remember the 76 vintage. Sublime.
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Hung One On said:
Its pretty well my favourite line up of curry. The lamb dish is great with extra salt and Tutu bakes her Tandoori to perfection. I seem to have left up naan oh well next story.
Haven’t heard of Hill of Grace 76 was a good year?
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Warrigal said:
That year at Henschke the angels picked the grapes and God himself pressed them. I’m told that each individual piece of fruit was kissed and blessed by cherubim and seraphim.
The resulting vintage is ambrosia, limpid balm for the soul. If Ato and T2’s wine dark sea where Henschke Hill of Grace 1976, I’d drown in it willingly!
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Hung One On said:
Haven’t seen one that old but next time in my favourite shop I’ll cast an eye for Henschke
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Hung One On said:
Is that Adelaide Hills Henschke?
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Warrigal said:
http://www.henschke.com.au/vineyards/hillofgrace/
Good place to start. Let me warn you. developing a taste for this wine, no matter the vintage, will keep you poor.
That having been said, you’ll none the less be a happy poor man.
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Hung One On said:
Waz, I’ll send the phot to Emmjay and then he can pass on my address
Cheers
Mark
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gerard oosterman said:
We had a bottle of 72 Grange given to us, which we drank while dining at a Blackheath restaurant some years later on my fortieth birthday. Once had a 60 litre plastic vat of fruit wine fermenting away on top of my filing cabinet. It was overhanging a bit on the side and during the night the plastic drum folded and the lot ended up on the carpet.
The sugars in the wine turned the carpet into a sheet totally vitrificateous and solid. It had a nice apple and cigar box like bouquet for many weeks though. It was the end of my viticulture career.
Has anyone ever drank a Paraguayan wine?
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Warrigal said:
A man’s wine, those tough hard riding Paraguayan Wines. Born in the Andean foothills where the Condor’s keening cry is heard. Working the cattle out on the pampas all day, the creak and itch of the leather, the whiz of the bolo.
Tough macho wines with big black moustaches and a devil may care attitude. Wine you can condition your saddle leather with and worm the dog. Wine which can lift you off your feet and leave you feeling exhausted and devastated.
A fighting wine with pride and attitude; and bugger the tannins. Real men don’t care about stained teeth. A wine to drink while you butcher cattle under a rising moon; and then to enjoy as you tear the spit roasted beast to bits with your hands.
A blokey wine that doesn’t care for appearances and is certain of it’s own heart.
Tear me off a bit of that haunch there G and crack another neck of that “Dolor de Cabeza y Dolor”. I feel like playing up tonight!
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H said:
Thanks Gez for that little accident, now the office has a beautiful wooden floor and the cider infused carpet is good for suppressing weeds in the orchard…
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Voice said:
That’s the main thing I scavenge for from Council pickup days Helvi. Carpet and carpet underlay, which is often felt (from wool). But I have to be able to see a woolmark, some of the synthetics are pretty good. Good and cheap weed suppressant and then I cover it with leaves; the angophora tree and bushes keep it covered after that.
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Warrigal said:
Hung, that rectory you’ve illustrated your story with is Borley Rectory near Sudbury in the UK. It’s gone now, having burned down before the war.
Gives your story a bit more meat because this was allegedly one of the hauntedest houses in Britain. Never an easy house, it seems nearly everyone who ever lived there, including several generations of Rectors called Bull, (good name for a C of E rector), reported unusual goings on and things that went bump in the night. Oh, that’s right, and a carriage and four whipping up the drive pulled by headless horses. Ya gotta love headless horses. The story ends in uncertainty with the discovery of a female skull and two long bones buried in the cellar.
If you’re interested in the full story just Google “Borley Rectory”. The poms are mad for a good ghost story.
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Hung One On said:
Thanks Waz, will do. I have found a website that has royality free photos of just about anything. That is where I get my photos from for the stories.
If I could ask a favour. I can only find on photo that suits Gordon. Could you weave some magic on it for the next part? Mike should be able to help with emails if thats okay?
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Warrigal said:
My pleasure.
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Warrigal said:
It would be my pleasure.
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Warrigal said:
That’s an interesting little cyber glitch. Either that or I’m really looking forward to that email.
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Emmjay said:
Geez, you get around, Waz.
In case Hung missed it, that’s not the photo he sent me – which was a little small for my liking.
But there are quite a lot of references to said Rectory. And lots of grainy, ghostly images.
Spook, anyone ?
….. and the URL for the royalty-free photos , Hung, is …………
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Hung One On said:
You’ll find it at http://www.fotosearch.com/ your worship
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Hung One On said:
PS Yes not very observant of me
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Voice said:
You do know that royalty-free doesn’t mean free?
It means you don’t pay for each use of the item. That you are free to use the item all you want once you have paid for it (unless it is also offered at no cost.) and met any other conditions of the terms of sale.
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Voice said:
For example, they have a photo of Slough Rectory. The charge to display it on a secondary page of a website for up to a year is $USD 405.00.
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astyages said:
Talking about photos, Emmjay… whatever happened to the pix I captured from those moveis… which I sent you just before you went overseas?
Talking about which, I can understand your sudden urge to visit Denmark…
😉
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gerard oosterman said:
Yes Warrigal,
Those Andean wines. We remember it well. Mendoza on the way to Chile’s Valparaiso. It is Argentine’s largest wine growing region with some vines dating back to 1600.
Helvi and I had a nice bottle of white in a restaurant whereby all and sundry were watching a porn movie. We had the best chicken ever and we strolled back to our hotel happy.
In Argentina no one goes out and eat before 9pm, which is about the time we normally and soberly turn in and check our electric blanket here.
Buenos Aires, where entire cows are strung up rotating around a fire and hacked at by chefs to satisfy jam packed restaurants and their customers.
Oh, lets all play up again. I feel like doing the Lambada to-night. Bugger the baker.
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