Email to:You’re Reading The Thoughts Of An Old Cootess!
I cannot believe it……one of Hec’s five lovely girls (specifically, my eldest sister) will shortly turn 60….
Which brings me to this: I must be fast turning into an Old Cootess (albeit with most of my teeth and a reasonable decolletage) but cootess-like enough to employ cootess-driven statements like:
‘You try burning bras, it’s expensive….. ‘
‘Before The Temple of Woolies, Leeton, it was (can you believe it!) the site of the Cannery Carpark….’
Or:
‘Thirty years ago – in the Pre-Hydroponicassic Period - that house was rented by Leeton’s first hippies…….’
I’d like to say: ‘Where did all the years go?’ (a cootesque statement or what!) but the problem is, I know because I was there for most of them.
(cr: Creativity + Timothy K Hamilton: flickr: ‘How Red Was My Sunset?’)
For when it comes to the development of Old Cootessdom, I have the extra risk factor: Glorious, pre-Cootess, Cootina years Livin’, Lovin’, Learnin’ in a country town.
This is what happened last time I had the pleasure of sitting around a table with young Leeton folk who (God bless ‘em) initially had no idea they were in the company of a woman in the early to middle stages of the development of Old Cootessdom.
Our topic?
The rigors of the contemporary workplace….draconian bans on full-body piercings, dress codes prohibiting semi-nudity, handling the unreasonable requests of Old Cootessess and Coots – ‘Please Die Soon BUT Not In This Shop…….’
And then the Old Cootess weighed in….
With tales of my first employ at the now defunct Leetona Canning Factory.
Blank stares (no doubt) underpinned by sophisticated thoughts:
Next thing she’ll be engaged in an ugly Coot-faction-fight to take over the Leeton Historical Society…
Soon, I was proudly pushing home my Cootess credentials with – God forgive me – this:
‘You don’t know this but our Cannery, the biggest in the whole of the Southern Hemisphere, provided the bulk of two fruits, peaches, apricots and pears for our brave boys on the front during the Second World War…’
Blank stares……
But the Old Cootess is just warming up……
‘And when I was sweating it out in 110 degree heat on the peach line, I thought of the young, brave soldiers in The Middle East opening a tin of ‘my’ fruit all those years ago….
AND I knew that my aching back and gorgeous hair getting ruined under a safety net amounted to nought in the scheme of things….’
More blank stares and murmurings of preparations for what I fear will be an unseemly night of excess at local night spots.
‘And I tell you, I learnt a lot at The Cannery namely: DON’T SWEAT THE SMALL STUFF….’
My God! I have catapulted myself into the worst category of Old Cootesses: Ennui on a stick and Don’t Sweat The Small Stuff – up there with ‘No Drama’ as sure signs that Cootessdom is fully blown….
The adjective of the blank stare suddenly turns into an urgent collective verb:
We gotta a live Old Cootess and we’re gettin’ outta here….
No drama….
I now accept that the burgeoning ranks of Old Cootesses and Coots IS the downside of the growth of modern antibiotics……
*So, The Old Cootess Moderator awaits your correspondence….
Strange: I feel so much better that I’ve outed myself. You just watch me veer headlong into the rest of my life, armed with a scintillating treasure of reminiscences – and the biggest botox syringe in the Southern Hemisphere!
All posters take a deep breath…..and 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.
Prawn Cutlet Award
February 15th, 2010 at 11:08 am
The phone rings next to the bed,
What fresh Hell is this?
(Like Dorothy Parker once said)
Dare I eat a peach?
Or take a piss?
Something needs to be done,
Something has to be done,
About all this…..
Different now,
The Moon,
In December recalls June….
Now I’m becoming lunar,
Quite the loon.
Hard to rhyme.
Hard to rhyme.
Hard to rhyme….
When Time’s the crime…
I look at the Crescent,
Past is now Present….
I look at its loveliness,
Its shrinking grace…
Then after washing face…
Examine teeth,
(Ah, what a disgrace!)
I think of Moon’s lost,
And vanished glories….
All of its unheard stories.
Yet that Crescent glistens,
Problem is nobody listens.
February 15th, 2010 at 11:22 am
Old Cootdom…….
It’s like all your sins have come to rest in your mouth.
And people complain that I don’t smile enough…..
Dear The Dude,
Little smirks hide many sins. But they always irk…KJ.
February 15th, 2010 at 11:55 am
Visitors here will know that I am still on deck because post-Bletchley Park some of us Intelligence wallahs purloined Hitler’s Youth Drug (Ein Tausend Jahre Jugender Pharma).
As a result some of our Fallatio Parachutists who were not killed have survived to our present time.
….Which leads me to ask about a coming International Festival of Youth for post sixties Coots and Cootesses I am organizing in Leeton.
Hence I ask our local (100 per cent Leeton) and national (100 per cent Australian) and international (100 per cent international) bloggers to contribute ideas so as to make the Festival a Resounding Success.
Dear Lord Ginge,
A point of clarification….
Are Cougaresses welcome at the Coot and Cootesses Youth Festival? KJ.
February 15th, 2010 at 2:22 pm
London: I cannot believe that at the age of 56 the white redhead Pauline Hanson is joining the swamping of Britain with Australian refugees interfering with the natural Darwinian process of the genetic blackening of the United Kingdom.
Only a matter of time before we have a black king or queen……
Pauline, there is no place in our society for Aussie white trash.
You’re endangering the TRADITIONS OF BRITISH IMPERIAL HISTORY when the Queen and Empress once spoke affectionately to a largely Black Empire.
Will we see you in the mosque at Woking or at the Reggae Festival at Notting Hill?
I don’t think so……
http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2010/02/15/2819733.htm
Dear Guinness Is Good,
But everyone here is wishing Pauline well! KJ.
February 15th, 2010 at 4:27 pm
Dear G.I.G,
A good few years back I was given a book called ‘The Wit and Wisdom of Pauline Hanson’.
I groaned.
Some weeks later I flicked through the pages. All were blank.
February 15th, 2010 at 5:18 pm
I heartily empathise with your feelings of incipient cootdom.
If I’ve told my kids once that all the land around their Nan and Pop’s place used to be full of orange trees, I’ve told them a hundred times.
Dear Roma Street,
No, no, no – it’s very interesting!
What exactly replaced the orange trees? KJ.
February 15th, 2010 at 5:34 pm
Meg,
Have the publishers have no shame? Overwritten to blazes.
February 16th, 2010 at 6:40 am
The answer to your question KJ, is brick veneer houses.
Dear Roma Street,
Darn sad……you can’t can (or juice) brick veneer houses. KJ.
February 16th, 2010 at 7:49 am
Meg,
The Hanson Opera just needs a final scene based on her book:
OTHELLO – My Big, Bad, Black British Love: The Final Furlong.
February 16th, 2010 at 10:27 am
Dear Miss KJ,
Some advice from The Old Carnt – I’ve found my life has changed dramatically since I came into possesion of a NSW Government Seniors’ Card.
Besides now being able to travel around Sydney for 10% less than bugger all, the card itself contains a stimulating message:
‘The holder is a valued member of our community. Please extend every courtesy and assistance.’
I often get it out and wave it in ticklish situations. Eg, A crush of young people blocking my access to the bar, and the results so far have been remarkable!
Meanwhile, I’m feeling a little sorry for Pauline leaving our shores to study queueing up in Blighty.
Still, as (I think) my grandmother used to say: If you make your bed, you have to lie in it.
…..Unless, of course, you have a Seniors’ Card, in which case…..Best to get some bright eyed youngsters to do the job….
I have every confidence that once young Tony Six Pack’s Army gets on the march, many of these little problems will become history – like one of The Rev Kev’s Promises of a time long long ago.
I remain respectfully Yours,
The Old Carnt.
Dear The Old Carnt,
What an unlifting report from the field!
I have on my person a Cougar Card. It says:
‘The holder is a valued member of the broad church that is our community. Please excuse any Cougar-like indiscretions.’
KJ.
February 16th, 2010 at 11:12 am
I would like to see a study done by some enterprising town planning student comparing the number of new brick veneer houses constructed in Leeton since (say) 1979, compared with the growth in population.
Every time I set foot in the joint, a new swathe of land has been given over to a series of brick veneer homes. With the number of houses built in the place in the last 30 years, I would reckon the population ought to have increased about tenfold, and yet when you walk down the main drag it certainly doesn’t resemble any sort of teeming metropolis.
And all the old houses are still there.
Perhaps they are all empty……..
Dear Roma Street,
Just a moment while The Old Cootess (who like Coots and Cootesses everywhere is an insufferable ‘know-all’) dons her Town Planning hat.
Yes, there have been many massive brick veneer family residences and love nests constructed in Leeton over the past couple of decades….
I have on numerous occasions inspected their amenities…..and walked away mightily impressed – up to 15 bedrooms, 11 ensuites, rumpus rooms big enough to host a Riverina Aussie Rules Grand Final, eight brekkie bars and laundries which I’d be happy to call ‘my digs..’
The household complement is usually a young married couple or a soon-to-be divorced debt ridden married couple with two children. Trust me though, they’ve had a great couple of years in their resort…..
Meanwhile, in the older residences, lives the worried parents of the aforementioned householders…..
‘When we first got married we lived in a chook house, we made do….we were happy…’
….’Young people THESE days……they never have enough…..whowouldathought? – a waterfall in the bedroom…?’
So, the housing stock in Leeton is a stark reminder of the Cootina/Cootess/Coot divide…..
And life goes on…..KJ.
February 16th, 2010 at 12:42 pm
A Cougar with a Luger. Be afraid. Be very afraid……
The Dude As Prude……be more afraider, even MORE afraider. KJ.
February 16th, 2010 at 2:15 pm
This Old Coot learned a new buzzword today – ’shovel ready’.
Is everyone in here ’shovel ready’?
Dear Chadwick,
Every day I turn up at work and yell: ‘I am shovel ready…’
Then two minutes later: ‘Who’s got the bloody shovel…?’
KJ.
February 16th, 2010 at 4:30 pm
I start the day with a little whimper…..
It works for me.
Then I roll my trousers and eat a peach….
Contrary to what you might think, occasional ladies do visit, but they are NOT always talking about Michelangelo.
Sometimes I have a visitor who wants to talk about Climate Change, or as I call it, The Great Whimper…..
February 17th, 2010 at 2:27 pm
In Greece all cootesses are counting their pennies.
Dear Greek and loving it,
Exactly how many Euros do you sleep on top of every night? They need to be sent home. KJ.
February 17th, 2010 at 4:47 pm
My beat used to be LA….
Now it’s from Gundy to Leeton, and there’s always a Dame, this one with Mo the Missing Mouse, kidnapped by a wired Iranian…
I have told the Dame from Weepland that Mo is now a light in the sky, with only Willie the Worm and Harem, and two Ninja Turtles as fellow Astronauts.
My beat peters out after five hundred ks above earth, but that doesn’t mean a shamus should lose interest.
A search of Iranian newspapers and news services showed not a word about Mo & Co.
Not even an obituary.
Is he another jihad hero, or just lying low?
What does the holy Q’ran say about all Creatures Great and Small, like little Mo?
This is why Barlowe PI cornered a man from Iranian intelligence. A spook with a lamp, and a hookah, plus dodgers for cut-price carpets that ‘must go’.
You better start singing for your supper (I said) or I’ll report you to President Imadinnerjacket.
Honestly, effendi, I know NOTHING!
You would say that, wouldn’t you? Now get on your magic carpet, get the facts on this firecracker in the sky, and report back! Capice, kiddo?
Sure, Mister Barlowe. Sure. I gotta blow………..
February 17th, 2010 at 9:32 pm
(Cootess/Coot Conversation Checklist)
Are you saying….?
1. Whatever happened to those good old fashioned family values?
2. You know what used to be here….?
3.————- Street? A girl/boy I used to know lived there…….
4. Have you every thought about ‘tough love’?
5. In the old days…..
6. I remember when…..
7. Ben Chifley…
8. The Kokoda……
9. No taxation for Immigration……
10. I guess you have to take me as I am…….
11. Excuse me, waiter, I am OVER HERE!
12. My husband/wife used to say…..
13. We used to go dancing at…….
14. The Mother Superior told me…
15. Father —— used to say…..
16. Are you related to the…….?
17. I knew your Father, he was …..
18. You would not recognise (place, person, building…)
Dear The Dude,
Where would the world be without people like you…? KJ.
February 18th, 2010 at 12:24 pm
Are these the musings of a cootina, cootess or a cougar?
Sorry, I’m just a bloke, er coot.
http://www.smh.com.au/opinion/society-and-culture/how-society-turned-modern-men-into-bank-managers-20100217-odtn.html
February 18th, 2010 at 4:28 pm
Sorry KJ and everyone – I have much to contribute to the cootess discussion…….
BUT first I have to reply to several important emails eg:
‘The room CB03.03.18 has been scheduled for Semester Weeks 1-4 for Sem2/01, Sem2/02 and Sem2/03. The Semester Weeks 5 and 6 are currently the first two weeks scheduled for Sem1/01, Sem1/02 and Sem1/03 in CB03.01.20. In order to complete this request for the Professor I will need to move Semester Weeks 5 and 6 from Sem1/01 etc leaving Semester Weeks 9 – 13 in CB03.01.20 and add Semester Weeks 5 and 6 onto Sem2/01 etc into room CB03.03.18 which is available for the days and times required.’
Dear Lonely Scholar,
Tell the Super Dean that the Cootess intends to stay put!
KJ.
February 18th, 2010 at 4:39 pm
Coots, Cootinas and Cootesses……
You’ve been quivering behind the wheel……..
You’ve been shouted at because you are driving while wearing a hat…….
You’ve been out of bread and milk because you dare not drive…….
Do not despair….Help is at Hand…….
We are proud to announce……
THE TONY ABBOTT DRIVING SCHOOL FOR THE TIMID.
. Learn in one hour, yes, one hour, to be more ASSERTIVE behind the wheel.
. Discover new confidence in driving on Labor’s HELL HOLE ROADS.
. Make other motorists MORE FRIGHTENED OF YOU THAN YOU ARE OF THEM.
WE ARE WAITING FOR YOUR CALL…..
Dear Chadwick,
A driving school for the timid! I’m there for it, YESTERDAY! I don’t drive very much – well, hardly at all. I do one ‘demonstration’ drive once a year. From Brobenah to Leeton – 6kms. My dream? To do Barellan – Leeton (25kms) KJ.
February 19th, 2010 at 7:24 am
Dear Lonely Scholar,
I went to university as an Act of Courage…
No problem with the assessment tasks.
Problem was FINDING THE ROOM.
Would Academia consider a GPS location system?
Back to the man-eatin’ doona…
February 19th, 2010 at 10:02 am
Cougarina, Cougarina,
Girl where you been so long?
I’ve been worried about you baby,
Why won’t you please come home?
I got a bird that whistles,
I got a bird that sings,
Got a bird that whistles,
I got a bird that sings…..
But I ain’t got Cougarina,
And life don’t mean a thing.
Cougarina, Cougarina,
Ah you’re on my mind,
I think about you girl,
And I can’t keep from crying.
February 19th, 2010 at 2:57 pm
How can I go out, now that Cougars are prowling Sydney?
http://www.smh.com.au/lifestyle/lifematters/cougars-prowl-sydney-20100218-of4u.html
Dear The Dude,
What about becoming a volunteer Cougar Cop? I think you might enjoy it…..KJ.
February 19th, 2010 at 3:18 pm
Dear KJ,
Please pass on my thanks to your correspondent Mr Chadwick re people being ’shovel ready’ (Feb 14th) – it inspired me to get out with my spade and do a bit of shovelling myself…
The result?
A magnificent action packed photo of The Rev Kev caught in mid shovel in many of today’s papers.
You know what?
I reckon it was fortunate that the press boys (sorry boys and girls) happened to be there to catch the moment – instead of chasing around after the increasingly silly, and can I say, highly dangerous stuntman aka Tony Sick Pack….
The way he’s going it’s only matter of time before someone is seriously injured.
And please note: No animals or people were injured during The Rev Kev’s photo shoot.
I enjoyed it so much, I’m thinking of doing it again over the coming months. Maybe you can let me know of any big building projects around Leeton way.
God Save Australia,
And Happy Birthday to your Big Sis.
The Rev Kev.
Dear The Rev Kev,
I have not been so much ’shovel’ but BUCKET ready. So much so, I had to vacate my digs last night as water lapped my bed, spilled over into the loungeroom….all the time, threatening to sweep me away in a tide of despair.
Culprit? A broken hot water system which (as far as I know) was thankfully NOT installed as part of your Highly Stimulatin’ Package.
Must away – industrial cleaners coming to save me (oops, there’s goes another light….)
KJ.
February 20th, 2010 at 1:27 pm
Came downstairs As An Act Of Courage….
I was going all right until you and the The Rev Kev mentioned shovels and HOT WATER systems.
Memory flooded to when our gas heater (outdoor) sent geysers of water high into the air, and then illuminated the streams with fire.
Son et lumiere, plus dangeureuse!
If Fire and Water are sacred, ours was a holy place. Fire is the Devil’s only friend.
When The Man came he looked at the mess our place is, and said:
‘I cannot work here!’ – and drove off.
For days we were without water.
Memories are made of this…..
Can The Man work there at your place, KJ?
Back to the man-eatin’ doona.
Dear The Knuckle,
The Man has been here….
He had a big pump. NOT big enough though to stem the tsunami…..
My digs are now starting to smell very, very bad.
I CANNOT live here…….
KJ.
February 20th, 2010 at 3:25 pm
After The Flood…..
There are times, kiddo, when you just want to blow.
Hit the road, massacre the macadam, burn the bitumen, hurtle down the highway, quit town, give the place the Big Miss, if you know what I mean…..
Sometimes Mahler and JB are not enough, even in Art’s Bar and Grill, Leeton.
A shamus can get feet so itchy that he wants to scream: Feet, do your stuff!
Sometimes the reason for wanting to blow is a Dame.
There’s always a Dame……
Am I right, or am I right?
Sure, I’m the Singing Shamus, but right now I’m singing the Blues.
Barlowe PI at your service…….
February 21st, 2010 at 8:34 am
Mister Barlowe, said the Dame, I am very wet!
Listen, toots, I only operate on a professional basis.
But I am FLOODING.
I am a shamus, kiddo, it’s not my department.
There’s several metres of water in my bedroom.
And you want me to lend you a rod and reel?
Mr Barlowe, I can’t go on…
Unless the animals can come in two by two?
It is a DESPERATE situation…
But never serious?
Mister Barlowe you gotta do something…
Like advertise you have water views?
What am I going to do? What am I going to do? You’re a swell guy, Mister Barlowe…
You like prawn cutlets, kiddo?
Yessir. They’re swell.
But this is fresh water. Am I right or am I right?
Yessir.
Prawns do not come in fresh water.
Nossir.
But yabbies do.
Yessir.
So there you have your own inner city crayfish pond…all within reach of your bed.
Mister Barlowe, some times I don’t think you take me seriously…..
Now who would dare to say that, toots…
February 21st, 2010 at 10:24 am
I tell you, kiddo, you got trouble, right here in River City, and that starts with R and that stands for Rot.
Welcome to Mildew Mansions, ma’am.
Everything has to be removed, dried and sterlized.
And while you’re on the job, get some Condes Crystals so that your beautiful tooties do not get tinea, toots.
Like Noah, sugar, you are in an After the Flood Situation. Got a computer?
Sure, Mr Barlowe. But it’s rather damp.
All mildew needs is warmth, moisture and nutrient so that The Thing can grow, toots.
You gotta jelp me Mr Barlowe, you’re a swell guy.’
Speaking of swell everything of timber will swell and warp.
You gotta get out of there, kiddo.
Go to
http://www.extension.umn.edu/administrative/disasterresponse/afterflood.html