KerrieJean.com

I tossed and turned all night grappling over whether it would right to go public about  this……..

But (thank God) daylight came alongside with clarity……. 

Hence, this account of my time spent more than 30 years ago in Australia’s premier food technology laboratory: The Fruit Control (FC) & Product Development facility at the Leeton Cannery. 

So where did your dreams go? (cr: Crowolf: flickr)

It is agreed among tinned fruit circles at their highest levels that my time there coincided with the tenure of one of the true visionaries of  the industry - Letona’s then Chief Fruit Controller, Scotsman Professor Mathie-Morton. 

Because I had been deployed to the inner sanctum of FC I’d been subjected to the most rigorous of security checks. If you have ever consumed tinned peaches from Shepparton tick here, if you’ve ever uttered: Tinned Peaches Are Making Me Fat, tick here…..

Professor Mathie-Morton was a genius - sharing rare traits with his countrymen, Graham Alexander Bell and James Watts. They were all mad with ambition, freakishly creative and way, way ahead of their time.

To this day, I am proud that I witnessed the birth of  Professor Mathie-Morton’s two new Letona Products -  products to save our Cannery, re-invigorate our town……

The first was Little Red Baron tomato sauce.  

Little Red Baron tomato sauce was…….tomato sauce.  BUT, its packaging was anything but pedestrian. It was more device than food product. Little Red Baron tomato sauce was encased in an eight-inch, red plastic cylinder which, when empty, allegedly turned into a pencil case. It had little propeller thingos at one end and a distinctive moulded tip at the other.

Little Red Baron tomato sauce quickly found its niche and orders poured in - from Marital Aids wholesalers throughout Australia and The Pacific Rim.

And Professor Mathie-Morton, riding high on his invention, could NOT walk up our main street, Pine Avenue, unaccosted:

Have ya got any lead in ya Little Red Baron Pencil Case, Have Ya…!?….ee, ee, ee!!!!

*Meanwhile, in FC Headquarters, round-the-clock  top-secret testing was underway on The Professor’s latest creation:  Two Fruits ‘n Turf - Letona Fruit Curry.

I was in the Tasting Team. All day long – in a white coat and VERY cute net hat - I hung over big steaming enamel trays of  mince with experimental quantities of pear and peach cubes dotted throughout.

My score sheet showed that mince 60%, peach, 30%, pear, 10% was – by far – my preferred option.

Sadly – unlike Little Red Baron tomato sauce – Two Fruits ‘n Turf  – NEVER made it to the supermarket shelves. Focus groups had foreshadowed ‘buyer resistance’ on a massive scale even after the peach content was lowered to 25% with the addition of 5% sultanas.

I can only reaffirm…..

What a  great privilege it was to work in Professor Mathie-Morton’s top-flight facility – challenging, exciting, cutting edge.  AND if you did NOT share The Professor’s vision – New Frameworks/New Fruit - it was right and just that you immediately leave FC and go back to the process lines:

Go on, GO ON!!!!…..Just keep pushing peaches and pears into tins of syrup which the Japanese (incidentally) have had a gutful of…….GO ON!!!

So, let’s all celebrate the rare beasts that are the Professor Mathie-Mortons.

He did NOT save The Cannery, he did NOT see Two Fruits ‘n Turf  become THE luncheon concoction of choice in India, he did NOT see Little Red Baron tomato sauce EVER used for its stated purpose…. BUT he did dream colossal things……..knowing that:

…..Tis not too late to seek a newer world.

Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.

 
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down;
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.

Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and tho’
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are,–
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

(Tennyson, Ulysees).             

                                                       THE GINGER MAN

cr: Curt: flickr

*The Ginger Man - Don’t Miss Out! (’You’d be a fool unto yourself if ya did….’)

His - the groundbreaking  –  The Crack Up Chronicles continue in our comments section. Come to think of it, The Ginger Man has a lot in common with Professor Mathie-Morton: fearless, absurdly street smart, obsessive, passion-aggressive and  FUN, FUN, FUN!!!!

BUT, the bad news is that The Ginger Man (an old Bletchley Park operative) is in deep trouble. Brought low. Too much Absinthe, too much adventuring. Thank God for our universal health care system. TGM’s in a psych ward with the rest of Canberra.

For those folks new to The Ginger Man…..sit back,  review your ergonomic settings -  and take the wild ride……

*TGM’s  been operating in kerriejean.com for months. And we are privileged to have him. To tell you the truth I’m dead scared that The New Yorker might just come along – with a big cheque book – $US - and snaffle him!

******ALL correspondents  just take a deep breath and  go for it!! 

Just click on the ‘comment’ thingo and follow the simple instructions. The place to write your gems is at the bottom of the last published comment. *A little bit of counsel for people new to this caper. Your email (just called ‘mail’ in this case) address does NOT come up on site. And just ignore the URL thingo – just ignore it.

‘The Moment Of The Great Confrontation Is Drawing Near’……..Channel 10.

And it is!

Have a wonderful AFL Final Day – ALL of you – particularly privileged desperados who have a team running round.

* I’ve been told there’s many new people in here (yippee!) so I’m putting a piece up from last September – when this thingo was brand new. AND to tell you the truth, I’m too worked up to do anything else……

……….. On the other hand, the memories of another Grand Final day in 1963, threaten to overwhelm me………

Before 1963 grand final credit: Sister72, Flickr 

The Ross family (five lovely girls and Hec and Gwennie) lived, ate and dry-retched footy…

Hec was the President of The Leeton Redlegs, the Mighty Demons Australian Rules Football Club. And In 1963, the Mighty Demons had risen above a record-breaking caseload of shockingly dehabilitating groin injuries to scrape into the Grand Final.

Gwennie was always very creative. But, in the week leading up to the Grand Final, this mid-career cake decorating artist, suddenly switched mediums! Our carport resembled the Sydney Mardi Gras’ float storage warehouse. I’m going to do the car, Gwennie said. And, at 6am on Grand Final morning, it was indeed very clear that, yes, Gwennie had done the car.

The car – EK Holden registration number CLU295 – was rendered a forward attack vehicle.

Massive cardboard demons with pitchforks festooned every inch of it. Their grotesque faces had words coming from their mouths: Bulldogs Desexed Today!, Watch The Bulldogs Dribble!, Bulldogs Put Down!….

The meanest Mighty Demon posed huge logistical problems. He came in at just under five-metres and was somehow attached to CLU295’s roof. There was even very intense talk among neighbours that an articulated vehicle from a local haulage company may have be brought in to transport our car to grand final headquarters, the magnificent sports ground at Narrandera.

Hec would have none of it! If a man can’t drive his family to the footy, that man is a dill. Get in!

Now, Narrandera is 25kms from Leeton. Hec’s game plan was to stay on the gravel and take it easy.

To say that Gwennie’s work immediately struck a chord deep within people, would be an understatement.

As Hec battled to keep CLU295 on the gravel, hundreds of Mighty Demons’ supporters roared past, blowing horns and yelling: You Bloody Beauty!

After 1963 grand final 

On the other hand, It is said that within cars transporting Grand Final players, silence fell. It was just too dangerous to get worked up. Because of that shocking litany of groin injuries, many of players were up to their eyeballs in Bex powders. Club strappers had also been hard at work overnight. Trusted insiders reported that their phenomenal ‘groin bandage work’ in combo with the application of handfuls of Deep Heat cream was extraordinarily painful to watch, but necessary.

Meanwhile at the Narrandera sports ground, word had spread that something colossal was on its way. I know nothing of the negotiations that took place but when we did arrive, a parking man in a white coat said:

You have permission to do a lap around the ground. Just stay outside that bloody boundary line, hear me!

And so, we did that lap. To a mixed reaction. While the Mighty Demon’s camp made the rapture witnessed at charismatic churches look lame, ugly Bulldogs’ supporters willingly participated in the greatest mass demonstration of five fingered gestures and fifthy language, ever recorded anywhere in the world.

On Grand Final Day, 1963, The Mighty Demons got flogged.

Under Gwennie’s instructions, we’d started dismantling CLU295 mid-way through the second quarter. But, it was slow going. Because of the amount of adhesive material used in the installation, it was intricate work.

Hec eventually came back to the car. So mad with grief, he didn’t know what he was doing. Enough to say that we got next to nought for CLU295 at trade-in time because of the state of the ducco.

After that day, Gwennie became very quiet. Neighbours, who always described her as a very deep thinker, said she was going into herself. We all worried. That was until mid-December when Gwennie announced plans for her massive cardboard backyard nativity scene.

With a big sign right on top of it saying: Good One Joseph!

******ALL correspondents  just take a deep breath and  go for it!! 

Just click on the ‘comment’ thingo and follow the simple instructions. The place to write your gems is at the bottom of the last published comment. *A little bit of counsel for people new to this caper. Your email (just called ‘mail’ in this case) address does NOT come up on site. And just ignore the URL thingo – just ignore it.

An unprecedented meteorological phenomenon is proving to be a bonus for the Riverina region of New South Wales:  It’s EXPANDING its boundaries!

As I write, Leeton, Coolamon, Grong Grong, Ardlethan and Moombooldool are encroaching on Sydney in an unstoppable march.

There’s beautiful Riverina red dust EVERYWHERE….

Near Narrandera: The future is now! (cr: iBASECAMP: flickr)

Pitt Street is fast turning into Leeton’s main street, Pine Avenue. The Harbour Bridge is morphing into Euroley Bridge (Yanco) and the western suburbs sprawl? It BECAME Wagga precisely 56 minutes ago. Unconfirmed reports say that Sydney’s posh Eastern Suburbs have just been re-named Collingullie.

*Leeton tip for dust storm affected women: Disrobe. Take washer and lightly sponge body. Go outside. Marvel as full-body coating of mud forms. Go back inside. Use hairdryer to set mud. Take pot scourer to yourself. Firmly rub for 65 mins. Shower. Bravo! Shiny NEW you (Oooooooh baby! Topsoil all gone) Repeat.

 * A full body exfoliation of the magnitude of the Riverina Red Treatment would set you back at least $400 in a chintzy day spa.

Thank you to our wonderful network of correspondents for keeping us up to date. NEVER before has my mailbag filled me with such joy:

Roma Street:

From what I’ve seen on TV this morning, it looks like the city council has declared Leeton Day in Sydney.

Like the backpackers who wander around in T-shirts in the bleak Melbourne winter, ex-Leetonians in Sydney will be saying to their friends and colleagues: What are yez all whinging about?

The Old Carnt:

In my office a sweepstake is being organised for the time of The End. I’m picking 6pm, just as the comercial TV news themes, like wanking robots, ring out across this doomed city.

Tennessee Bird Walk:

Isn’t Nature wonderful ? So powerful when man disturbs its equilibrium. It could take you several days with a wheelbarrow to shift a garden bed from the front to the back garden.
But Nature can lift half of the Lachlan Plains and blow it out to sea overnight.
We need not to worry about climate-change Reds under the bed, but Red in the sky.

The Big Lebowski:

Pink dust is in the air,
Everywhere I look around…..
Pink dust is in the air,
Every sight and every sound.

And I don’t know if I’m being foolish,
Don’t know if I’m being wise….
But it’s something that I must believe in,
Pardon me while I vaporize…………

Any sensational dust storm news down your way?  Please proceed to the comments section and let loose.

Remember: You’re ALL Riverina now!

This has been a special dust bowl edition of kerriejean.com….

****************************************************

** Our very own The Ginger Man? He’s ALWAYS been a bit Riverina and his superb The Crack Up Chronicles continue in the Comments Section.

(cr: capn mad matt: flickr)

For folks new to the world of The Ginger Man – Welcome!!

In these pragmatic times, The Ginger Man is a ‘one-off’: adventurer, bon vivant , afficionado of ALL things that really count – LIVIN’, LOVIN’, LEARNIN’.  Yesirreebobtrudat!

******ALL correspondents  just take a deep breath and  go for it!! 

Just click on the ‘comment’ thingo and follow the simple instructions. The place to write your gems is at the bottom of the last published comment. *A little bit of counsel for people new to this caper. Your email (just called ‘mail’ in this case) address does NOT come up on site. And just ignore the URL thingo – just ignore it.

Talk about an exceptional household……

Hec and Gwennie, three ’so so’ girls -  and  TWO beauty queens with multiple crowns.

I was in the Non Beauty Queen (NBQ) category.

It was tremendously challenging.  Mezza (pageant name: Merrilee Anne) and Doolup ( pageant name: Julie Ellen), only had to leave the house and they’d return with more tiara imprints on their heads. Put Doolup and Mezza in front of a judging panel and the rest of the hopefuls? FAT CHANCE!! 

(cr: Lcrward: flickr )                                                                                                             

To this day, Mezza and Doolup, are regional Australia’s most sashed chicks:

Mezza: Think Dolly Parton - if ya know what I mean…..?

Belle Of The Debs. *Inaugural Miss Rice Bowl Princess.* Prize: Return trip to Leeton’s sister town, Waipukurau, New Zealand.  Free rice for six months. *Miss Leeton Showgirl. *Miss Regional Showgirl. *(Third) Miss Royal Agricultural Sociey Showgirl. Gwennie: She woulda won if we’d had a property….she woulda….* Extra sensational result considering she was sporting a stress induced cold sore on judging day.

Doolup: Think Angelina Jolie – if ya know what I mean…?
*Princess of The Paceway. Prize: Pat the horses all night. *Belle Of The Debs. Prize: Pat the priest all night.
*Miss Leeton Showgirl: By the time I got to the regional finals, I was bored with being a Beauty Queen.  When they asked me whether Lockhart was bigger than Wagga, I said ’sure as hell is…!’

………The run up to yet ANOTHER sashing at our place was always the same.

Those in the NBQ Category had NO choice but to stick to the soul-destroying protocols:

*If the Beauty Queens declared they were going dry Sao biscuits only for six weeks, we all had to. My job? Scurvy watch. At the first signs of bleeding gums or weeping skin spots, I was to report to Gwennie and lettuce would be slowly introduced.  

*If the Beauty Queens needed time away from the public gaze, contemplative Sao picnics were held at Tuckerbill Swamp.

* And crucially, young men threatening to sully Dolly and Angelina’s ’s pre-pageant reputations were banned. So stringently was the gender rule enforced, Hec had a hard time negotiating the steel barricades as he returned nightly from the Leeton Hotel: A Man’ll be bloody pleased when this is all over….Bloody Thrilled……

So, how did THE TOWN react to Hec and Gwennie’s freakish ability to produce two young women with freakish good looks and the freakish (almost savant) ability to answer – under pressure cooker conditions – ‘impossible’ questions. Questions like:

 In what year did the Leeton Cannery get the sensational contract for Pizza Hut tomato-based-pizza-base-sauce?  –  or is IT officially called the Leeton-Narrandera Airport or the Narrandera-Leeton Airport?  

Well, THE town – like ALL towns  – kept its white hot fury under wraps.

I do remember being in the lookers only throng at the back of the Showground Pavilion when Doolup was declared Belle Of The Debs.

TRIFECTA  (I shouted)…….we’ve got The Trifecta!!!!!!!

‘Looks’ all round………

(NBQ sibling)  Shut up KJ, SHUT UP….. they hate us enough as it is…….

……..I’d like to tell you that while our Beauty Queens were losing seven kilos a day and keeping themselves very nice, I was discovering emerging Feminist literature, newly determined that NO man would ever objectify my great chest, pert waist and shapely legs.

But that would be a lie.

One day – when it became my turn to launch my Beauty Queen career, I approached the handsomest boy in town with the good news that I had CHOSEN HIM to be my deb partner.

Thanks KJ, but NO thanks….

You’ve GOT TO BE JOKIN’?

Thanks KJ, but I’m NOT JOKIN…..

I think YOU’RE JOKIN’!

Trust me KJ, I am NOT JOKIN’. Goodbye……

From that moment and right up until now, I publicly deplored the meat markets that are Deb Balls, Miss Showgirls, Princesses Of The Paceway, Miss Rowathons, Miss Rice Bowls, Miss Dustbowls…….

*A couple of years ago, Leeton Show organisers were desperate: NO-ONE available to open the extravaganza or announce the winner of the Miss Showgirl.

I did the job. There I FINALLY was. On the trotting track surrounded by nervous Beauty Queens. I opened the envelope…..

And the winner of the Miss Leeton Showgirl is ME!……sorry, sorry, sorry……….

* Who will be Miss Leeton Showgirl 2009?

http://www.irrigator.com.au/news/local/news/general/tough-quest-for-showgirls/1626608.aspx

****************************************************

Oh dear, lots to discuss. None of it particularly attractive. Our trigger words from The Macquarie: Australia’s National Dictionary: Pride, Beauty, Showgirls, Lettuce Diets, Tuckerbill Swap…….And – of course - what’s going on at your place – dignified or NOT.

THE GINGER MAN – THE ‘CRACK UP CHRONICLES’.

(cr: Curt: flickr)
Speaking of dignity, distressing news to hand re The Ginger Man, Lord Ginge.

Like the rest of Canberra, he’s ended up in a facility – too much adventuring, too much absinthe…….it all simply became too much.

But NOT for us……

Follow The Ginger Man’s ‘Crack Up Chronicles’ all this week in the Comments Section.

******ALL commenters go for it!! Just click on the ‘comment’ thingo and follow the simple instructions. The place to write your gems is at the bottom of the last published comment. *A little bit of counsel for people new to this caper. Your email (just called ‘mail’ in this case) address does NOT come up on site. And just ignore the URL thingo – just ignore it.

 

Henry Lawson arrived in Leeton in January, 1916. By August 1917, he’d had a gutful and was gone…..

So, to this day, Leeton has a difficult relationship with Henry. Nice that a celebrity spent time there writing about the progress of the dream that was The Murrumbigee Irrigation Area: preposterous that he hated the place. 

My position on Henry is complex. Of course, I’m disgusted that a man with a famous imagination found no solace in my hometown - but then again, he did arrive in JANUARY.

Leeton in January is Hell On Earth. Let me take you to our place when I was a kid. Please note: Everything described below happened in the absence of air-conditioning, UV potions, melanin or overhead fans. 

cr: Alfred T. PalmerLibrary Of Congress: flickr

There is a fibro palace (pictured) with three bedrooms, five kids and the temperature is soaring – 40 degrees is good. Anything over, handable if it doesn’t last longer than three days……anything longer, trouble, big, BIG trouble.

We have an immediate problem. Our hot water comes from a wood stove. To bathe and cook and wash up – and assure people that yes, we do have hot water - that stove has to be lit – 44 degrees outside or not.

Subsequently, our house is breaking all the World Health Organisation’s guidelines on ‘habitable’ temperatures. 

All day, we’re hanging out of our beds in disillusional states, disorientated family members are saying unforgivable things to each other and a fitful Hec  is playing a dangerous game. Doctors have warned him NOT to drink beer inside The Furnace (Beer & Heat Induced Brain Atrophy almost assured)  but he will NOT desist.

Instead, he tries to stay alive by disporting himself around The Furnace dressed only in big Y-Fronts.

And neighbours are shocked when he broadens his ‘Y-Front only’ horizons. Fleeing The Furnace and the madness  – A Man Can’t Take It Anymore –  a semi-naked Hec stumbles out the backdoor, pulling our tiny, dangerously dehydrated Australian Silkie Terrier, Bindi-Boo-Major, around the block – again and again.

Meanwhile, back at The Furnace Gwennie is adding to the atmospheric mix of  heat and smoke from the slow combustion stove – with ample squirts of defoliant from her pump driven fly spray can. Very modern tartan pattern.

Gotcha, gotcha GOTCHA…….if ya don’t like it close your mouths or go outside…….gotcha, GOTCHA!!!!

Exhausted after her latest fly eradication programme, Gwennie collapses on the yellow vinyl divan on the back verandah, only to yell 20 minutes later:

Come and help. Come and  HELP. I’m stuck to it, I’m stuck to the couch, I’M STUCK!!

It  happens that at that moment, Mr Y-Front returns, reporting that because A Man Has Had Enough he’s nearly killed Bindi Boo Major by yanking his lead too hard.

How many times does A Man have to say it?  Stay off the vinyl Gwennie. Stay off it. It’s too hot. Too bloody hot. You know you always get stuck. Wonder you’ve still got a bum….!

When night falls, but the temperature doesn’t, Gwennie refills her tartan killing machine in preparation for the mosquito invasion. 

But she is powerless. By now, her children are unrecognisable. They are seas of mozzie bites, indispersed with flashes of young skin. Her once beautiful, now heatstroke-afflicted offspring, are spent – sprawled out on five beds, five pairs of  vacant eyes gazing at the ceiling, praying that tomorrow God will have mercy and ‘bring it in’ under 40 degrees.

So Henry….come to think of it,  I not only forgive you for thinking ill of my beloved Leeton but salute you for doing two Januarys.

And if you’d been around in our time we’d  have invited you around for a big roast tea. Even asked you to read a bit – perhaps from Up The Country?

`Sunny plains’! Great Scott! — those burning
wastes of barren soil and sand
With their everlasting fences stretching out across the land!
Desolation where the crow is! Desert where the eagle flies,
Paddocks where the luny bullock starts and stares with reddened eyes;
Where, in clouds of dust enveloped, roasted bullock-drivers creep
Slowly past the sun-dried shepherd dragged behind his crawling sheep.
Stunted peak of granite gleaming, glaring like a molten mass
Turned from some infernal furnace on a plain devoid of grass.

 * Meanwhile, good news. The renovation of of Henry Lawson’s Leeton residence has been completed. First Occupant? A DOCTOR…

http://www.irrigator.com.au/news/local/news/general/cottage-work-completed/1572626.aspx

cr: NHA Library:flickr

*Alright then - IT’S coming and there’s nothing I can do about it – but I still hate Summer. Our trigger words – compliments of The Macquarie: Australia’s National Dictionary: Furnace, families, hot, hot, hot, unbearable, hot, hot, mozzies, flies, Y-Fronts, Henry Lawson.

And please report in on how you’re coping – or, for that matter, NOT at all.

******ALL commenters go for it!! Just click on the ‘comment’ thingo and follow the simple instructions. The place to write your gems is at the bottom of the last published comment. *A little bit of counsel for people new to this caper. Your email (just called ‘mail’ in this case) address does NOT come up on site. And just ignore the URL thingo – just ignore it.

News like this comes but once in a lifetime…….

The Chief Monk has just informed me he’s standing for Labor at the next New South Wales election. I’m thrilled - so thrilled that this week kerriejean.com has been turned over as Australia’s first official Re-Elect NSW Labor WITH AN INCREASED MAJORITY site.

Our slogan? RE-ELECT THE FRECKLED FUNSTERS*

( *Della told his then sweetheart, Kate, that Nathan R was like Mark Latham WITH freckles). 

*The Chief Monk’s Campaign Director, Brother Warwick. cr: topherous: flickr

Thank God for The Chief Monk: He knows what’s important: Love, Fun and Dark Intrigue.

Please read his statement OUT LOUD……  

Yo all MissMeatTraysjesjokin!

Back in Al-Gundagai Monasterie I is de Freckled Funster Candie-date fra de Erection Ob De Fun Parte OB Premeer Rees. 

YESSIREEBOBTRUEDAT!!!

Ma slogan is:

HAINT WE GOT FUN? FRECKLED FUNSTERS ALL HUNITE!!!

MissMeatTrayjesjokin Belooonda Neale she heppin de Campaign Fra de JOKES.

*Lotsa Campaign CDs

(This top of de pops, truedat) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cTWB_ByQD4w 

Dothers?

*Yo Know Who I Is
*Under De Table Top Dinner
*Hunderpants Capers
*Developer Delights
*Sex In De City
*Ole Man Liver
*Della Man
*Haint We Got Fun
*Jake De Peg (Diddle….liddle….)
*Story Has Broken (Like De First Morning)
*Who Dat Girl Hanging Round Wiv You?

I ASKIN DE VOTAS:

HAS YO HAD FUN?

DOES YOU WANT MORE FUN?

ONLY WE FRECKLED FUNSTERS GIB THAT FUN……

Git wiv KJ MissMeatTrayjesjokin to git da Labor boys and gels over de line.

They fulla love and fun….Da Klytorians gunna vote for dem - but they very tiny, sensatif elickorate. 

YOU TOO…?

YESSIREEBOBTRUEDAT!!!

(KJ) Thank you, The Chief Monk.

* Declaration of interest:

You should know that Leeton, before breathtakingly cynical boundary changes, used to be Labor – both at State and Federal levels.

We had Al Grassby’s head (No 1 For Riverina) all over our lawn in the run up to the ‘72 poll. But NOW IS NOW…..

So, are you on board for the Re-Elect The Freckled Funsters Campaign? Will You Be Voting For The Chief Monk?

And……Your memories PLEASE of elections past when Funsters were cherished NOT vilified? And, as usual, love to hear about anything currently making your life FUN or outright UNTENABLE.

******ALL commenters go for it!! Just click on the ‘comment’ thingo and follow the simple instructions. The place to write your gems is at the bottom of the last published comment. *A little bit of counsel for people new to this caper. Your email (just called ‘mail’ in this case) address does NOT come up on site. And just ignore the URL thingo – just ignore it.