KerrieJean.com

Open Gwennie’s laundry cupboard and you’ll find not only the most extensive array of cleaning products on the Pacific Rim but also a magical manuscript from long, long ago…Gwennie’s Rosetta Stone, Gwennie’s Book of Kells……..

The treasure is a newspaper cutting stuck to the inside of the door……the sticking tape brittle, ever yellowing newsprint. Come in for a closer look for the script is tiny, a mysterious concoction of letters and numerals.

New Jackpot Lottery No: 795. Ticket No: 81977. Drawn, March 27th, 1975: Syndicate: Six Good Neigbours.

Miracle On Kooba Street: cr: forever soul: flickr

…….The day that Mrs Ross (Gwennie), Mrs O’Grady, Mrs O’Donnell, Mrs Eurell (Mrs O’Donnell’s mum), Mrs Dunsmore and Mrs Clark win the lottery begins like any other.

Our Six Good Neighbours are – as usual  – enjoying their  – as usual - combined total of 100 cuppas under - as usual  – Mr and Mrs Ross’s modest carport. 

They are –  as usual – exchanging confidences of a very intimate nature.  Mainly stories of coping with the nerve-racking combo of aberrant husbands and terrible hot flushes:  I swear to God I’ll self-combust,  I SWEAR to God I will…………..

Meanwhile, over the road, Mr Merv O’Donnell is – as usual - shaking his head in disgust as, via the lurid headlines of  The Daily Mirror, he catches up on the latest debauched escapades of Godless city folk.

 As usual, Merv then proceeds to the Lottery Results page to find out just whose debauchery is now State-funded.

New Jackpot Lottery No: 795. Ticket No: 81977. Drawn, March 27th, 1975: Syndicate: Six Good Neighbours.

In under two secs, the  hyperventilating Merv is out on the lawn in his racey orange towelling bathrobe.

Our bearer of sensational tidings is frantically waving The Mirror -  throwing his arms around and shouting to the blue summer’s sky:

WE MAY NEVER MEET AGAIN BUT SHAKE YOURSELVES AND LET’S GET STARTED…BECAUSE GIRLS! GIRLS! GIRLS!, COULD THIS BE YOUSE?!!!

…….I BLOODY WELL THINK IT IS!!  I BLOODY WELL THINK IT IS!!!!………….

YOU’VE BLOODY WELL WON THE LOTTERY……!

Every lottery winner on hearing THE news, reacts differently. And in the case of the Six Good Neighbours, it is no different.  

Mrs Dunsmore is simultaneously shaking and making emergency relaxation puff, puff, puff  noises.

Mrs Clark is doing something she never does: Swearing long, loudly and badly (Sssh, Sssh, other Not So Good Neighbours can hear you…SSSH!)

Down the other end of the table, Mrs O’Donnell is, as if in a trance, saying over and over New York Cut and Cold Duck…..

Mrs O’Grady is writhing and pinching her left buttock. I gotta pinch myself, I just GOTTA  pinch myself……

Mrs Eurell: I’ll do it for ya, I’ll do it for ya….. 

In the middle of the chaos….Mrs Ross. Poised. As usual.

Six Good Neighbours all……..

It is my pleasant duty to inform you that we - definitely NOT as usual - have won the lottery.

Please secure all children against kidnap threats, please contact all husbands at places of work…….

Please gather up every punch bowl and  bottle of Cold Duck you can get your hands on and return ASAP.

And please remain calm…..

It is then that Hec – at a million miles an hour –  fangs the holden through the gate,  narrowly missing the lucky syndicate….. 

Falls out the door. Picks himself up:

WHAT’S THIS ABOUT? WHAT’S THIS ABOUT?!……

WORD IS A MAN’S WON THE LOTTERY, I’VE WON THE BLOODY LOTTERY…….

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THE GINGER MAN: NEW ADVENTURE!!

cr: Doomster: flickr

Great news!  

Our Passion-Aggressive Adventurer,  The Ginger Man – Ex Trinity College, ex-Bletchley Park - is off again. He’s (as usual) seeking here and seeking there with our ‘Livin’ Lovin’ Learnin’ exemplar, The Chief Monk…..and the loviest woman God ever put breath into, Nurse Try Do.

And – as usual – if you’re in kerriejean.com and meet  The Ginger Man for the very first time and think: WHAT?!, all you need to know is this.

 TGM has been adventuring with us for a gobsmacking year now.

To say he goes to places and meets people, would be a GROSS understatement: criminal. The Ginger Man IS where Swashbuckling collides with Sophistication. The results? Dramatic and profound.

So God Bless The Ginger Man and keep him safe as he sets out on his The Christmas Island Chronciles – in our comments section – as usual.

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So….lots to talk about in this thingo – luck, miracles, Hec’s irresponsible motoring habits, joy, shock, Syndicates as Socialism…..I am really worked up about the possibilities. And – as usual – we’d love to hear about anything (great or grisly) from your neck of the woods.

Being the last-born of Hec and Gwennie’s five lovely girls, the physical and emotional upheavals marking the march towards my womanhood was initially NO big deal.

To further explain, let’s invoke the metaphor of a process line at the Leeton Cannery…..here comes my eldest sister, Elizabeth-Kaye. She’s a peach. Strange things are happening. She is being peeled, de-stoned. Oh my, she’s being put in a tin. Good God. Off she goes to the Pressure Cooker.

Out She Comes:  SHE’S CHANGED: SHE’S A WOMAN!

Ditto siblings Merrilee-Ann (Apricot), Julie Ellen (Pear), Francis-Maree (Quince) and lastly, me (Tomato).

But something extraordinary, even mystical, happens to me in the Womanhood Pressure Cooker.

I emerge not only with an instant DD bra cup fitting, but also with a hard-wired, awesome drive to Fall In Love At First Sight.

(Stupid Cupids: cr: simpologist: flickr)

Subsequently, I am on the loose in virtuous Leeton with new and profound emotions: a profound danger to others but but most of all, to myself.

And when I Fall in Love At First Sight with Mr City Lights things turn lethal.

I am hopeless at sports requiring hand, body or eye co-ordination. But this CANNOT stop me Falling In Love At First Sight with the athletic Adonis who’s lobbed in Leeton to escape the intrusive gaze of sophisticated urban women. 

Soon, Mr City Lights is coaching Leeton’s toughest Women’s/Men’s Basketball team, Copperwine. Yes, yes named in tribute for the kick-arse band fronted by Jeff Saint John in his wheelchair – biggest hit, Teach Me How To Fly.

So……I am - as per usual - in Love At First Sight and  - as  per usual - have no choice in the matter.

I intercept Mr City Lights on our main street….

It would come as a surprise if  you haven’t noticed ME around town…….

Mr City Lights: Can’t say I have……what gives?

WHAT GIVES!!  It’s your lucky day Mr City Lights, that’s what gives……

For what you’re looking at is quite simply the most naturally gifted Women’s/Men’s basketballer the Riverina has ever produced. My name is Kerrie-Jean and I will be your wife – jus jokin’, jus jokin’, jus jokin’ PROMISE…..
BUT if you don’t let me try out with Copperwine, you will live to regret it…..you will, you will, YOU WILL……

Mr City Lights:  Look here Skerrie-Keen, DON’T threaten me but it just so happens that two Copperwiners were nearly killed last week in a memorable game against their traditional rivals, The Whitton Maulers, so we ARE carrying injuries. Get a uniform. Parkview Courts. Six o’clock. Thursday.

Parkview Courts:

KJ in Copperwine uniform - disgustingly short, black pleated skirt, black knickers, tight maroon top. Impeccable make up – if not a little heavy handed.

Copperwine V The Brobenah Bitches.

Whistle.

Love At First Sight is propelling me all over the court (Mr City Lights: Position KJ, POSITION!)  I’m jerking my hands up, waving them wildly in the face of every Brobenah Bitch I come across - whether or not the targetted Bitch has the ball or even looks like getting it….

Git of me KJ, git off me,  GIT OFFA ME!!!! 

I’m a natural.  In a spectacular display of  feminine strength and courage – and borrowing from my love of Aussie Rules - I go flying and kicking  and screaming right over a bevy of Bitches, grabbing the ball for the first and last time. My My, My….How the tables are turning:  Now, you git off KJ, YOU all git offa KJ!

I’m thinking: Didn’t think I would but I LOVE this game….just as Mr City Lights is – right now - growing to love me…….

I’m unstoppable: Fouling and swearing and charging and fouling and swearing and elbowing Brobenah Bitches and fouling and jumping up and down under the net baring my teeth…..shouting: Ree-Bound, REEEE-Bound, REEEEEEE-BOUND………. (…and that’s what all you Brobenah Bitches are: ON THE REBOUND….hee, hee, hee).

I’m thinking:  Mr City Lights is surely IN LOVE with me by now. I’ve touched the ball once, the flick, flick of my little skirt is compelling stuff  AND I’ve certainly got the Brobenah Bitches running scared: BRING IT ON, BRING IT ON!!!

I’m still running, even faster  - after nothing, to nowhere in particular.  Just showing Mr City Lights what’s possible. I’m now saying unforgiveable, very personal things to Brobenah Bitches. Running, running, skirt flicking, black knickers flashing. AND a big Brobenah Bitch can take it no more.  The Bitch puts her big foot out and down I go. Heavily. On the asphalt. Legs akimbo (not nice, not nice…)

Play stops. The record book of Leeton’s Twilight Men’s/Women’s Basketball Comp has a new name in it – and it comes with no less than three citations : 

KJ:  Weakest player with NO potential for improvement. 

KJ: Foulest-mouthed player.

KJ:  Most painful case of full body grazes.

*NO regrets.  I was In Love At First Sight.

Still happens.

Can’t help it……..

Anyone got a problem with that?

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THE GINGER MAN: The CALIGULAN CHRONICLES

 (cr: Storm Cyrpt: flickr)

Great news! Our passion-aggressive adventurer (Ex-Trinity College, Ex-Bletchley Park) The Ginger Man, has finally arrived in Rome with his entourage.

Our ambassdor to The Vatican, Monsignor Tim Fischer, is said to be desperate for an audience. And who wouldn’t be? Who wouldn’t want to talk to the world’s loviest man, The Chief Monk, or the brave and good, Nurse Try Do? And that’s just for starters…..

For new visitors to kerriejean.com, approach The Ginger Man with an open heart.  If you’re thinking:  Who is this man?/what is happening? - a tip.

Just go back to the previous comments section and you’ll get the drift.  *The Ginger Man has been operating out of our comments section for yonks.  Like thousands of thrillseekers worldwide,  I’m a bona fide fan. YESSIREETRUEBOBDAT!!!

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Aaaah….Love At First Sight. I’m predicting a wonderful clutch of comments and observations. Why not – for perhaps the first time this year -  let yourself go and bung in a comment/story/classified ad? Your site/your choice. We’re all content generators now ya know…..

******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.

Even before we hit the road for our annual pilgrimage to the NSW South Coast, Hec is in a state……..

To tell you the truth, the prospect of two weeks with Gwennie and his five lovely girls fills him with a paticularly masculine form of dread: No Leeton Hotel, no duck shootin’, no nothin’…….

And just the thought of GETTING THERE makes him sick in the stomach.

And so it should…….

cr: my old postcards: flickr

Our vessel of conveyance to Merimbula (free holiday house in exchange for duck shooting lessons) is Holden CLU 295.  Front seat configuration -  Gwennie, me, Hec. Back seat: Four human Ikea flat packs, Elizabeth-Kaye, Julie-Ellen, Merrilee-Anne, Francis-Maree and the most foul-tempered family pet in Australia, Bindy-Boo-Major.

Blast off!!!

Out the driveway backwards to the immediate blood curdling yell - of another Leeton motorist: 

Bloody hell Hec, BLOODY HELL……ya nearly collected me. Have a terrific holiday, BLOODY terrific……..

Soon, CLU295 is coastwards pointed. Silence broken only when Captain Hec deigns to bark out instructions to his petrified, precious cargo.

*If anyone wants a piddle DON’T tell me, tell GWENNIE.  A warning though, I WON’T be stoppin’ until we reach crisis point, I WON’T be stoppin’….

*Keep ya ears open for junk fallin’ off the roof racks. If ya hear anything suspicious (like a tail-gating semi swervin’ to miss a Monopoly set) - tell me, tell ME.

*If ya car sick and wanna throw up DON’T tell me…. tell Gwennie, tell GWENNIE.  You got those sand buckets handy, Gwennie? Yes Hector.

By now, Hec is getting into his holiday mood, adopting a  laissez faire attitude to the rules of non-holidaying civil society. The more miles he chews up, the more wilful he becomes – ignoring speed limits in towns and hamlets and gesticulating wildly with two-fingers when law-abiding motorists dare question his on-the-road ethical framework.

Everything all right in the back, everything all right? Make sure Bindy-Boo-Major doesn’t move around the vehicle. We all know what a b****** of a dog he is, we all know that…..

But Hec need not worry. It is silent and still in CLU295 because the petrified, precious cargo is on high alert – approaching the most harrowing, the most logistically difficult part of every South Coast journey: CANBERRA.

The dreaded Vernon Circuit manages to confound Hec every year and every year he takes it personally.

Roar, Roar – out an exit. 

A Man’s taken the wrong bloody exit. Hang on everyone. Sequence of highly illegal precision backtracking maneouvres completed.

Vernon Circuit:  Roar, Roar – out another exit. A Man’s done it AGAIN. Hang on everyone. Highly Dangerous backtracking sequence repeated.

Vernon Circuit. Roar, Roar – out another exit. A Man can’t think straight, a Man can’t take TOO much more of this. Hang on everyone. 

Vernon Circuit. Just let A Man think, let a MAN THINK. Around & around & around & around & and around & around & around………Roar, ROAR – out another exit.

Everyone all right in the back? Cooma it is, Cooma it is!!!

I will never forget The Man From Snowy River Park in Cooma. For it is there we always shared very special holiday travel moments.

So fraught, so nervy is everyone, we just sit and look at the 60 chook sandwiches Gwennie has been up at the crack of dawn assembling. In the meantime, Hec is cooling down, getting emotional about his petrified, precious cargo…….even positively poetic.

Pointing to the big statue of The Man from Snowy River he smiles his first smile of the day. Listen to this kids, listen to this……(and of he goes)

There was movement at the station, for the word had passed around
That the colt from old Regret had got away……..

(Hec keeps going and going and going while everyone looks at the chook sandwiches…….)

….To the breezes, and the rolling plains are wide,
The man from Snowy River is a household word today,
And the stockmen tell the story of his ride.

Everyone had a piddle?……. Back in the bus……..BACK in the bus…….

The Brown Mountain, the inland motorist’s gateway to the South Coast, is difficult at the best of times. Slippery, narrow, gravel surface, hair pin bends, deep gullies, safety fences when you’re not having safety fences, falling boulders, avalanches……

In CLU295, Hec is fighting his own demons and a battle royale with The Mount.

On top of the routine logistical horrors, the demister dies. Gwennie quickly turns into a human windscreen wiper - in beautiful sweeping motions, she is skimming the screen from left to right with her bare hands.

A Man can’t see, A Man CAN’T SEE a bloody thing……

In the back, the pressure is too much. Mass projectile vomiting is posing real problems.

In between her human windscreen wiping duties, Gwennie is distributing emergency sand buckets.

In between dry-retching and trying to keep CLU295 upright, Hec yells: Give me those buckets, give me those buckets…..

He winds down the window. From the back seat, the first bucket is handed over. Hec is emptying  its foul contents. The wind is strong and cruel.  Vomit comes straight back, landing all over our frantic captain.

All A Man wants to do is take his family on a holiday. That’s ALL A Man wants to do. Is that too much for a Man to ask? Is that too bloody much? Hang on everybody, HANG ON….

Hec does the Brown Mountain in record time.

Everyone all right in the back? We’ll be in Merimbula by midnight…….even if it’s the LAST thing A Bloody Man does……

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*I hope everyone’s enjoying the school holidays  – I suspect so ’cause there’s one thing I can tell you:  there’s hardly anyone in at the ABC, hardly anyone at all. But, for our purposes, APPALLING holiday stories would NOT only be appreciated,  but treasured. And remember, our community loves new posters and the opportunity to go overboard with ‘hellos’ and ‘please come backs’ and all that. Go on post NOW and feel the lubbin’!

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THE GINGER MAN

cr: Faye Pini: flickr

For those new to kerriejean.com,  our passion-aggressive adventurer, The Ginger Man (Ex-Bletchley Park, Ex-Trinity College) has been stunning everyone with his hi-jinks for (at least) the last financial year.

 He works out of the comments section, constantly updating us all on the ‘how’, ‘where’ and ‘why’ of a full life lived fully On The Edge. 

Currently The Ginger Man and his accomplices - the gorgeous ’softie’, The Chief Monk and good and kind, Try Do – are in VERY HOSTILE TERRITORY (See pic). 

* If you’re new in here and read The Ginger Man and think: WHAT’S THAT?!  – a suggestion. Check the previous comments section and everything will be AOK.

******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.

Another BONUS tale from KJ’s tortured world of regional aviation…..

Please note: If there’s anything that you’re ‘not quite getting’  keep calm and IMMEDIATELY refer to my previous post. 

……So, there I was (as usual) FULL of in-flight bucket loads of Valium, dribbling (as usual) and on approach at the picturesque NSW South Coast hamlet of Moruya.

…..Sister waiting to whisk me away for a much-needed break. She (as usual) had gone through all HER KJ pre-landing procedures - she’d put the back seat of her car down. For I am always conveyed from airports in an horizontal state.

Bump, bump, bumpedy, BUMP……..

Ladies and gentleman we have landed at Moruya Airport. If you need a hire car see me BUT I’ll tell you one thing: If that dribbling creature in 1F wants one, she’s outta luck.  Talk about out of it, TALK about it……

KJ falls down the stairs into the arms of sister: 

O God, O GOD….I don’t mind you getting your hands on my super but not like this, NOT like this, Deeeeear, G……Go……GOD!

Baggage collection trolley turns up. My bag  is NOT on it…….

I want my bag,  baag is aaaaall I have lefttttt, is aaaalll I have left…….I WANT MY BAG……

Bob, Bob, Bobbedy Bob……..(plane starting to move onto tarmac for take-off)

Coming quickly down from the Valium overdose, KJ is disorientated.  Runs inside to Check-In Man.

You haaaave to stooop the plane, you haaaave to.  My WEDDING DRESS is on the plane, my WEDDING DRESS is on THAT PLANE……

 

(cr: yuxuan.fishy.wang: flickr)

(Sister: Your WEDDING DRESS?!!!  –  at least you could have told Gwennie. You are so, SO selfish……..UN-BLOODY-BELIEVABLE!!!)

Check-In Man is on two-way to pilot………

Thrust, thrust, thrustedy THRUST………..take off imminent.

Check-In Man: I am so sorry but the pilot’s COMMITTED. I am so sorry……

KJ: He’s COMMITTED!!! I’m the one getting married…..I’m the one getting married……

Check-In Man: Please, please calm down. And exactly when are you getting married…..?

KJ: Daybreak tomorrow. We want it to be different….The wedding party is gonna have pics taken on an oyster bed with NO footwear. Heeeeear meee: NO footwear!!!

Check-In Man: I swear to God we will move Heaven and Earth to have your wedding dress back to you ASAP….

Up Shot:

Ten phone calls from frantic airline staff telling me exactly where MY wedding dress IS on its urgent passage. One plane, two taxis, three couriers, one Armaguard Van AND  a specially commissioned RAAF Hecules mercy dash later, MY wedding dress is back in Moruya.

*I don’t know what overcame me. I don’t know why I shouted MY WEDDING DRESS IS ON THAT PLANE, setting in train the bizarre sequence of events.

I SHOULD NOT FLY, I CANNOT  FLY………..AND I WILL NEVER MARRY!

 

cr: Howard R Hollem (Library of Congress) flickr                                

*The Ginger Man is still enroute to Rome via Rockhampton with Captain Baker (sort of) at the controls. Godwin Grech and Nurse Try Do are on trolley duties and the Chief Monk is whirlin’ in the aisles: I can see da rooof of El Monasterie El Gundagai from here – YESSIREETRUEBOBDAT!!!!.

All the action in TGM’s latest masterpiece, Adrenaline Air,  is unfolding in our comments section.

******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.

You may’ve noticed that this site has NO report backs of  wonderful trips:  intra-state, interstate, or international. 

No breathless reports of KJ lolling around kidney-shaped pools with her head stuck onto vats of multi-coloured cocktails. No wild gyrating into the night on floating dance floors, no gorging on platters of king prawn cutlets straight from the sea, no nail-biting sweeps through Customs with illegal home surgical cosmetic kits: NO NOTHING!

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the twisted world of a pathetic soul who went into journalism to see the world but is flat out seeing Gwennie in Leeton.

All because of a pathological, gut-wrenching, vomit-inducing Fear Of Flying……..

(cr: elmada flickr)

I fly Air Valium. Three on awakening – always at 3am - on flight days. Another two when I’m in the cab taking me to my appointment with death.  A ‘top up’ in the luggage check-in line. 

Good morning traveller KJ. Have this tissue dear, you’re dribbling. Identification?

Certainly! Here are my dental records  and a small photo for the newspaper. I would like the caption to read: ‘Neighbours said KJ  kept to herself. Word was that she did have a couple of dates in the early nineties.’

Traveller KJ, are you all right?

Goddamnit, how dare you sit there smiling Marcia.  I have never been so NOT all right. I am overwhelmed. I have 56 minutes to live and I am NOT at peace with myself.  I NEVER have been. God help me Marcia, GOD HELP ME!!!!

Security please,  SECURITY……!!! 

**** Bonus tale from KJ’s tortured world of regional aviation.

Regional airliner – Saab 300 - bobs along, preparing to take off from the magnificent facility that is the Narrandera-Leeton Airport.

(Bob, bob, bobbedy bob….)

In seat 1F? Our Frequent Benzodiazepam Aviatrix. Dribbling………..

Hostie Jessica: Hello traveller 1F.

My, my we ARE dribbling this morning.  May I call you The Dribbler?  

……Just routine, of course, but as you are sitting (dribbling) in special EXIT seat 1F I must read this to you:  Under air traffic regulation 567.34b - enacted recently after unspeakable acts of barbarianism in the skies - I must ask you this: 

In the event of a ‘mishap’, are you prepared to oversee the evacuation of innocent people from this plane?   

(Bob, bob, bob, boddedy bob – routine pre-take off procedures continue……..)

The Dribbler:  Hang on a sec Jess,  HANG ON.

(Two more Valiums downed from emergency pocket supply)

Noooooow, Jesss-ci-caaaa…..may I say just say thiiiiiiiis. I really think your fringe would work better if it was a bit looooonga…..

On that other matt-teer, I’m NOT sooooo sure.

(Bob, bob, bobbedly bob…….)

Hostie Jessica:  Look here The Dribbler. Just study this special card. All will become clear….

The Dribbler surveys the ’special’ card.

It is straight to the point WITH illustrations.

*** In the event of an over or IN water emergency, I must quickly leave my seat because aerodynamics show it will be UNDER WATER: Graphic of a Dribbler strapped to seat – glug, glug, glug, glug…….

*** In the event of a crash landing, I must keep calm and gently coax passengers to MY exit,  MAKING SURE IT IS CLEAR OF SMOKING DEBRIS OR BODY PARTS.

*** If one of the pilots suddenly leaves the cockpit to ask me on a date, I must assume the brace position and take it from there…….

Gee Jessica, I’m NOT too sure about this at all. Not toooooo shurre at aall. BUT, if we run into probs – and Jess we WILL, WE WILL, WE WILLLLLLLL -  let me assure you that The Dribbler will do all she can to help – under YOUR direction.

(Bob, bob, bobbedy bob……)

The Dribbler, it is my duty to inform you that me and the pilots are assumed deceased…DEAD,  potential debris, potential smoking body parts……

Then Jessicaaaaa,  it is my duty to inform you that The Dribbler caaanooot, caaannott, CANNOT do what you ask. By the way, I may be a litttle bit out ooof it but I don’t seem to remember applying for a job as an Air Mashall. No SIREEBOB, NO SIREE (ee, ee, ee!)

(Bob, bob, bobbedy bob: Saab stop, stoppedy STOP!)

Jessica is on the phone to the cockpit. She hangs up and sighs a very long sigh. Jessica walks down the aisle and comes back with a charming gentleman in a well-cut suit.

Says loudly: THIS  kind and capable (and I must say reasonably handsome man) has agreed to take on routine EXTRA flight responsibilities. Please leave 1F immediately and assume the seat that this gentleman - with apparently NORMAL levels of concern for his  fellow human beings –  has just vacated.

The Dribbler does her faltering ’benzo’ walk of shame down the isle to her new seat.

There’s ANOTHER handsome gentlemen in the adjoining one…..

(Bob, bob, bobbedy bob……..Stop, stop, stoppedy STOP……Thrust, thrust, thrustedy THRUST…)

Hello Sire, I aaam Theeeee Dribbler…

And who may I be dying with today….?

Just to let you know I won’t be any trouble. One thing though. Before I die I always love to nuzzle in…….gee, that’s nice…….you’re a good man……let me just nuzzle in a bit more…..

So, you’re from Ardlethan? Nice place Ardlethan, nice place……good fooooootball team back in the….in the…..in…….I really th….think…I co….could…learn …to….to…lo…..love….love you…….goood….ni…ni….night…………..

TAKE OFF!

*Should tell you that while I find it very hard to fly, I am obsessed by all things aviation. My favourite site is The Professional Pilots Rumour Network. Maybe it will become yours too…?

http://www.pprune.org/

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

THE GINGER MAN

Isn’t he great?

HE’S been able to face his demons. Latest reports say TGM has cut up his Medicare Card, said farewell to Nurse Try Do and Godwin and gone spinning out of the Psych Ward in the National Capital with The Chief Monk. Expect to hear soon where they’re headed.

I know The Chief Monk doesn’t want to return to the Monasterie El Gundagai just yet. Too much whirlin’, too much lubbin’ to do, yes Miss MeatTrayKJJusJokin!

cr: Marco Bullucci: flickr
*As soon as Lord Ginge and his entourage report in, you’ll be the first to know –  in the Comments Section as per usual.

YESSIREETRUEBOBDAT!!!!!!!

Speaking of our Comments Section, people new to kerriejean.com should be aware that it’s a treasure trove of ‘Living, Loving, Learning’ in its own right. Our community has only one rule: Anything goes! Why don’t YOU join us – try doing a little comment and just sit back and feel the lubbin’…..

******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.