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Reblogged from Joe Carli
https://freefall852.wordpress.com/2016/03/29/to-the-lighthouse/
“One must forgive the young their foolishness, for without them, there would not seem so much wisdom in old age.”…Socrates.
Ah!..Friday nights, didn’t we look forward to them. But we were young and carefree in those days. A group of us young bucks would meet after work at the Seacliff Hotel on Fridays and imbibe of the amber fluid and see what came of the evening. We were mostly working lads, so our thirsts were dry and encouraging.
I happened to be the first there that night, so I’d only taken my first drought of beer and settled back one-arm-on-the-bar surveying the scene, when in walks Mark. Mark was a big stocky fellow then, before the years and a beer-gut increased accordingly.
“Another schooner please, Noela.” I said to the barmaid before Mark reached me.
“G’day mark..How’s the land lie?” I greeted him.
‘Hrmph!..not much better than yesterday..ta, Noela.”
“Why the long face?…Say!..I heard you bought yourself a car!”
“HAD, you mean..past tense…an’ I only had it three days!”
“Righto then”, I turned and put both my forearms on the bar-top..”out with it..what’s the dirt?”
‘Bloody Mick!” Mark spat the words out.
“More!” I demanded.
“Last night we were in here having a drink”, he started..( I motioned to Noela for a beer for myself and nudged the coins on the bar and gave her the wink and a sign to keep refilling them). ” You know then that car I got from one of Mick’s mates who was going back to Sydney or somewhere and it had a “yellow canary” on it for bald back tyres?…Well, Mick suggested I buy the car ’cause I could get it for a song.” Mark paused for a drink and a sigh, then continued…
” But I haven’t even got a licence..I said to him..’You’ll get one one day’ ,said Mick ‘ and until then I can drive you around, since I don’t have a car.’….Mark rolled his eyes..”Say!..have you heard about Mick’s car?”
“I have not” I replied.
“Ah!…it’s another story..I’ll tell you later..he smashed it anyhow….again!” Mark waved his hand as if to erase the thought from his mind.
“Well,” he continued “I’d had enough beer by then to be a little bit foolish, so between one thing and another, I bought the car….’ 64 Falcon…green…..I think!”.
Mark sighed and plonked his hand down on a packet of smokes which he flung the lid off in an angry gesture and lit one up ecstatically.
“A man’s a fool!” he philosophised.
“Well, we were in here last night, me, Mick and Jim….You know Jim..the bullshit-artist?…yeah, that’s him!…me and Jim and Mick, just where we’re sitting now..and the car’s there outside the window in the street and I was feeling a little proud, I admit it, I’d never owned a car before, you see?…”
“Anyway..(yes thanks, Noela)..we’re sitting here an’ Mick leans over to Jim and me and whispers like it was a national secret…: ‘I know where I can get a good “deal” tonight’…”
“Oh yeah!” I said “Where; The Brighton?”
“Yeah..good heads..good price too!”…Mick was keen. Suddenly, there was “Brain’s” face hanging over my shoulder..”How much?” Brain asks.
I tell you, if there’s even a sniff of dope within half a mile of Brain, he’s on to it. And God!..doesn’t it look like he’s full of it ! If it can be smoked, drank chewed or injected…..but then I ‘spose that’s why he’s called “Brain”….oh God!…his eyes!!”
“How much?” Brain repeats himself..he’s standing there trembling like a distempered dog..anyway, between the long and short of it, we scrape our money together… I lent Brain his share..and we send Mick to buy a bag.”
“He gets back about an hour later lookin’ like he’s smoked half of it away. He gave us the nod from the door and we all finished our beers and went out to the car. He showed us the “deal”.
“And the rest, Mick!”, Jim said…He knew Mick like he knows himself, eh?..After a good deal of threatening from us he handed over some more he’d kept ‘ for commission’ he said.”
“Well, we decided to got up to the lighthouse and have a couple of joints. Mick’s driving like he usually does, so he does a few ‘ring-a-rounds’ on the grass and we park and smoke away……When we decided to go, Mick does another bunch of 360’s just to make an idiot of himself and then goes and slides the car into a ditch on the slope and gets stuck…of course, you know Mick..; plants his foot till smoke’s pouring off the tyres!”
” ‘Hold on dickhead!’..I shouted, ‘ we’re not going anywhere like this…we’ll have to get out and push’…we were standing at the boot, all off our faces as it was…’ No, Mick….YOU..stay in the car and steer….ok?…yeah, right ‘….Well, there we were, an the stars were shinin’…shinin’ an’ the lighthouse light is goin’…blink..blink…FLASH!!…jeez, y’know..it was a beautiful night….so it took us a little while to notice the grass had caught on fire under the car..probably off the muffler..up it went!…WHOOSH!…’ Mick, Mick’, we yelled (shoulda’ kept our mouths shut!) an he got out just in time. Man..we were panicking. Brain was freaking out, he just stood there moaning, ‘ Oh man, oh man’..and staring.”
“I’ ll go to a house’, I shouted, ‘and call the fire brigade’. I tell you I went to four houses over the other side of that gully before someone would listen to me. I don’t blame them on reflection, I dunno what I was sayin’..and the people in the forth house could see the problem without me babbling a word. He just looked over my shoulder and the grass on the whole side of the hill was on fire. I heard the sirens then and it was all over bar the shouting….When I got back to the fenceline, Jim, Mick and Brain were standing there silhouetted against the flames. Jim went into bullshit mode and started to detail about how it reminded him of “when he used to burn the sugar-cane crops up in Bundaberg….”..I told him to ‘ shuddup, Jim..just shuddup!’.
“Well, that was last night. This morning, I wasn’t feeling too good, but around comes Mick to pick up me an’ Jim an’ we drive up to the lighthouse to see the damage. The car’s a writeoff, gutted except the rear-end and the boot…you know those new tyres I put on to get the coppers to wipe off the “yellow canary”?…well, someone stole both wheels… must’av been the only thing on the whole car worth saving….and to add insult to injury, I’m standing there, really depressed an’ thinkin’..; ‘ well..at least I owned a car for three days! ‘….suddenly Mick makes this gasping sound, like a sharp intake of breath, leaps to the passenger-side door, throws it open and flips open what remained of the glovebox.”
“Oh SHIT !”…Mick cried painfully..”There was a whole “deal” in that glovebox!!”
“Man…I coulda’ wept.”…Mark shook his head disbelievingly. His hand plopped down again on his smokes.
“Two pints this time thanks, Noela”. He sighed.
sandshoeblog said:
In this little story here, and who can’t see it’s a story eh a couple of cracking laugh’s got me. Something in the pace, the beat, the rhythm…
1) ….’ 64 Falcon…green…..I think!.
2) I heard the sirens then and it was all over bar the shouting….
I reckon these two rip snorters ought to attract an award so I’m giving one. A writer has to know where to use 1) the entirely innovative and fresh and unexpected as well as 2) the tried and true and totally cliche. I laughed at both. They glue the yarn. Great read. Best rhythm.
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freefall852 said:
Thank you, sandshoe…The character ; “Mark” in that yarn is a real person with all those sardonic characteristics…he was the hinge-pin of our little gathering there in the front bar of that establishment and he features in most of my yarns about that place and those times….He was/is one of those rare characters who is an old man with an old man’s “wisdom” from a very young age…the same characteristics could be in one of the opposite gender..I suspect..but I would not want to meet it..as a male bullshit artist, the most welcoming two words a woman can direct to someone such as myself when in full flight of verbal fantasy are accompanied by wide eyed wonder…those words?..: “Oh really!!?”….
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freefall852 said:
And on the business of the cliche’…..yes..I am not afraid of using the cliche as a “staging post”..a prop to give “familiarity” to a moment…the cliche is like “trigger-word” one can strategically place within a paragraph to trigger an emotion that is characteristic to the cultural group you are aiming your story at…In the short-story medium, I believe it is another tool in the writing chest that has to be judiciously and strategically used to encourage the reader to “come on board” to the plot or moment.
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sandshoe said:
ff, I have to imagine you’re joking you need someone of the opposite gender to treat you as if she’s an idiot lol.
That would bore you to tears.
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freefall852 said:
O..we’re all idiots of some stripe when it comes to flirting or chatting-up..but it’s not so much the outcome of the foolishness as the way we play the game…
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sandshoe said:
I am seriously not qualified to know how to answer following the three dots, freefall.
Have a happy Pig’s Arms drink on the long running tab. Merv, the mythical barman will book it up even though he grumbles none of us ever pay the tab. 🙂
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freefall852 said:
Always the barman’s lament!.. https://freefall852.wordpress.com/2016/04/09/glen-and-mrs-wright/
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sandshoe said:
Funny how people we never expect as an outsider get together. The Humber resonates. A close relative had one of those.
You’ll come across reference to the various characters that have grown up with the pub over the last few years and I was reflecting to help you on your way to a greater understanding when people make passing mention to them, where might I suggest you look. Perhaps into the story of Foodge who features so frequently. He has seen various manifestations in stories, but the gist is he was adopted, with a career as a Private D, arriving fully grown as he unexpectedly did, and another feature that makes me laugh is he was a terror for drinking all the pub Milo when he first arrived.
https://pigsarms.com.au/tag/newcastle-flyer/
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freefall852 said:
May they long reign and even prosper..the likes of Foodge et al….Perhaps we could shear some experiences on these pages of such utterly delightful characters…Here..I wrote a short tribute to one I knew well..
“It is only in the harbours of our mind
That we reach our full potential,
Where images of reality and fantasy mingle,
Where drunkards and kings are equal…”
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sandshoeblog said:
We’re a little erratic how frequently we comment.
The pub’s been going now for years and every now and then one of us wanders in who may not have been seen here for as many years, lays a story on Emmjay, heads on off again. Numbers of them have become shaped around knowing each other hence the lines blur sometimes. I found when I was first here (it’s a while) I had to try to identify sometimes what folks were alluding to so I read a lot of back stories.
Eventually I tried writing in those genres as well as an exercise.
A few years ago we spent humourous time on an alleged competition to write the best ‘Pig’s Arms Psalm’. It’s like the bar tab that never gets paid. The comp. for the ‘Pig’s Arms Psalm’ never closed. 🙂
The pub has melded and spilled out its doors with characters.
In case you haven’t realised down the bottom of the page you will find an option to access ‘Rooms at the Pigs Arms’ and you can choose whose writing you would like to read (‘room’). Everybody is recommended. Nev Cole is very funny. Enjoy.
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freefall852 said:
Why not….I wrote this as a testament to a re-cycled feral tabby cat I had as a pet for quite a while..until a snake did for her one day…I really liked that cat..
A Balloon.
A bright blue balloon
Am I,
As blue as blue as an azure sky.
Catched for a moment
By an Hibiscus flower.
Wind buffeted,
Held for an hour
Of fragile kind-ship,
We were.
Now..
The delicate thread broke free..
Now, can you see me anymore
As I drift away
Shape and colour
Lost against a vast array
Of blue as blue as an azure sky.
My bright blue balloon
And I..
She is gone…
Goodbye my sweet..goodbye..
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freefall852 said:
Has everybody gone to the moon?…
‘Neath dark root of Mallee tree,
Quite hid there for history,
Things thou will never see:
Pots & poems and chipperee
Secreted there of you by me.
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Therese Trouserzoff said:
Yep, I do that Monday to Friday simply to keep the roof over our heads. So do Algy and Big M 🙂
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freefall852 said:
Yeah…fair enough…ok..that’s three of you . . .
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Therese Trouserzoff said:
The workers…
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freefall852 said:
” The workers… “…is that a confession or a request for sympathy?… 🙂
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Therese Trouserzoff said:
Sorry, too busy. Got to run off and do a meeting thingy
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freefall852 said:
I remember saying that same excuse to my daughter when she was but a toddler and she took her thumb from her mouth and replied..: “Are you going to buy some meat?”
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vivienne29 said:
Silly buggers.
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freefall852 said:
Fuck it..I’ve had a few wines and I’m out of control..so here goes.. :
That song by Blondie : “In The Flesh” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kmONePejIIA)
…threw me back many years…way before that song was written..back to my apprenticeship years as a young blade on the building site. In the smoko room of a multi-story building site…
Back in those days..mid-sixties or so, we had a loquat tree in our yard at home and this year it was most proficient with fruit, so I used to take a small bag of them with me to work to eat at smoko and lunch…but in those days, I, and anyone I knew , used to not peel the fruit, but just eat them skin and all..till one day on the site, at smoko..this tough Slavic chap at the table watched me eat the whole fruit and then addressed me so;
(I won’t try to do his accent)
“Why, my young friend, do you eat the loquat, skin and all?”
“I don’t know”..I shrugged” I just do..how else would you eat it?”…He put his apple down into his lunch-box and said..
“Here..give me one..I see you have many..that big fat one there..they are the best to show you…” I gave it to him “ Yes,,very juicy”..
He wiped the surface with his rough hand and then held it up in front of us both as in display.
‘This fruit is not just a lump of food..(pause)..this is a sensuous delight..not just to chomp down on like the glutton you are , my young friend!”..and he lay it clutched in one palm and proceeded to peel it with his other hand…a strip at a time ..all the while giving me..and those other bemused older men at the table, a running commentary…I have to admit I felt a tad blushing in those innocent days..
His eyes concentrated and his voice softened..
“This fruit is like a woman..you have to be very gentle..for she will bruise so if you handle her roughly..you like this fruit?..so..you must never be rough with that you love..you must gently peel away the outer layers of “garment” (he paused in his action to give me a querying stare) you understand?” (several other men stifled a guffaw) and when you have it down to the flesh…you gently , with both thumbs..so..spread the flesh wide so you can see the seeds..which you ease out with the index-finger..The hand..my young boy..is not only to be used for rough jobs..like I see you throw around those ‘Acrow props’…you must be more gentle in your work”..and he looked at me sternly.
He performed the whole procedure with all the care and sensuality of a lover..”And there”..he displayed the bare fruit in his open hand..and after a suitable pause for me to absorb the result, he raised the dripping delight to his lips and voluptuously pressed them down on the flesh so the juice oozed over his lips, which he dabbled with his napkin…His eyes rolled back in his head….he then spoke in a almost voiceless whisper..
“And then…my so young and innocent friend..when you bring your lips to touch on that forbidden flesh , you can feel both the fruit and your mouth yield to a higher pleasure than you will ever experience in your otherwise worthless existence …” There was a long pause while he held his pointed to the ceiling hand for a moment of appreciation..
“Pitchken dim..” he sighed.
There was a sudden outburst of laughter in the smoko room from the other men and I felt more than a little uncomfortable.
But now..at the other end of my life, I can reflect back on the incident with a somewhat sentimental smile at the Slav’s performance….and I recollect a poem (I have it somewhere around here) of Penelope (of Ulysses myth) saying goodbye to her secret lover as it was rumoured Ulysses was returning to the island. Her lover, a rugged but handsome young fisherman who travelled with the seasonal schools of fish for his livelihood , and was then moored at the wharf in Ithaca, asked Penelope for a token to take with him when he sailed that day as a keep sake, a talisman.. and (if I clumsily recall.from memory ) she spoke from her balcony to him below..:
“There sir, by your hand..a white Athens rose,
Throw it to me that I may grant your desire.”
Tomas plucked the flower and did as she sought.
Penelope pressed the stem to her bared breast,
So a thorn pricked her milk-white flesh.
A noiseless cry shaped her red lips and,
A drop of her blood rose upon the place,
As she pressed the white blossom upon it,
So a single petal held her token there.
She cast her loving eyes to Tomas,
And returned the flower which he cupped
In his hand ..then raising it to his lips,
He plucked out that single petal upon his tongue,
And took it into his body as a sign
Of his endearing affection for Penelope..
“Addio..( he softly whispered)…addio my sweet lady..”
I have that whole poem around here somewhere..I’ll have to search it out one of these days..
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Therese Trouserzoff said:
Cripes ! Mom dieu
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freefall852 said:
Those bloody Slavs!!
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sandshoeblog said:
Fair suck, mate! They really know what to do with a loquat, eh.
As an Italian restaurateur said to me one mid-afternoon when he came out to my balcony table at his establishment, “I’ve been watching you. You really know what you’re doing with food.”
🙂
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freefall852 said:
A lasagna, eh?
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freefall852 said:
For you, sandshoe… ; https://freefall852.wordpress.com/2017/02/03/the-girl-in-the-blue-dress-2/
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sandshoe said:
No, not a lasagna and not even a spag bol. Lots of delightful salads and pickles. I ate with gusto I recall.
The Girl In The Blue Dress is a tale of a collection. It was lucky for the restaurateur he happened to be on the spot.
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freefall852 said:
Well..TT..there was plenty of action and characters abound in that establishment…but what is of concern to me in this day and age, is that while many if not most of those characters have ‘passed on’, there doesn’t seem to be any replacing them..I wonder if this middle-class bowdlerist age has not killed off the source of that spring!
“A jewish stocktake”…love it!…There was a period in the late seventies when many fish ‘n’ chip shops were burning down ..in the shadow of the rising power of KFC and McD’s…I was shown one methodology that was a reliable and undetectable method used…of course ..I would never vouch that it was indeed used….
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Therese Trouserzoff said:
Commercial fires are so often caused by friction. Caused by the accounts payable ledger rubbing up against the insurance policy.
You’re right about the demise of characters. When I was a student -also in the 1970s- I used to squeeze in day labour as a TWU wharfie. Cashinhand daily -same as my weekly scholarship money.
Those days were numbered even then with the onslaught of containerisation.
Some of my early Pig’s Arms stories mentioned Danny, Tubby (aka) Buddha. D’Eric (aka ‘Waldo’) and Peter (aka known as ‘that Dutch Cxxx’).
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freefall852 said:
The passing of the “ratbag” character…a modern tragedy..
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sandshoeblog said:
Nup. Not 4 weeks past as we speak as we are, the local albeit emptied of its press for a while and lying idle newspaper office of a hundred and ten years earth time burned down. Gotta be a character in it.
Not two nights ago I mailed to a cousin the story of why I was entranced when she used the acronym RITAS in the context she did in an email. While I did not know what she really meant. I asked her (because the context fitted) did she mean an award something like the TONYs or the BAFTAs, but that if she did, she did not know how tickled my fancy was by the idea of getting a RITA at the RITAS. I told her the story of Rita, sadly now deceased who was the female equivalent of ‘a character’.
So while youse blokes were as youzhyel moanin’ on about there being a problem and everything, us wimmin was doing something about it and the inaugural awards ceremony, the RITAS was founded between us in recognition of a 20th century character I have known. Synchronicity or bloomin’ what.
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freefall852 said:
Well…bloody good luck and all the best for the RITAS…it’s not everyday one gets boosted for anything save an insult or two!..and Rita is such a good homely name as well..as in ..: “Take it around to Rita…she’s handy with a sewing machine…she’ll fix it!”
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freefall852 said:
As a matter of interest to whom it may concern..That pic above of the Seacliff Hotel is a recent one…The hotel used to have three floors..the top storey burnt down…as also..if you look to those flats on the left…there once was a picture theatre there..: “The Windsor”…it too burnt down as did that little delicatessen in between the hotel and those flats…and if you went to the right of that pic, you would be looking up Wheatland Street and over the road were the “Astoria Apartments”..a rather grandiose name for seedy accommodation of most disreputable types who used to be regular patrons of the hotel…THAT TOO burnt down in a rather spectacular manner one Friday night…I have written of the moment and can relate that little episode to you if you so desire…The 70’s were a wild time!
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Therese Trouserzoff said:
Absolutely. We love a good fire story- or as the politically incorrect insist – a Jewish stocktake.
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freefall852 said:
Oops!..the reply is above..I forgot to push the “reply” button…
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freefall852 said:
Here..: https://freefall852.wordpress.com/2016/03/29/mick-a-character-study/
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