Archive for the ‘Country Living’ Category

A Christmas Tale: ‘Off’ Prawns And Love.

Monday, December 20th, 2010

So here I am……….

Chasing a star, speeding towards a small stabling facility out the back of nowhere and grabbing trinkets off the shelves of Seven-Eleven stores [knew you'd like it, just knew you would!] 

Oh dear……..

But still, I’ll let you into a little secret: I’m crazy about Christmas – always have been, always will be……

It makes me feel alive, which is amazing considering the litany of ‘tricky, tricky, tricky’ episodes that have marked 2010.

And trust me, I will tell you about the trickiest of those ’tricky, tricky, trickys’ at a later date.  

But quite frankly, I’m not going to ‘waste’ them at present. Even I know they pale into insignificance [just] if put up against an impending assisted Virgin Birth.

I know what a big story is……

And I can tell you a Virgin Birth is going to lead the seven o’clock news – and the 7:30 Report, with or without Mister O’Brien.   

So, this Christmas I am turning my efforts to things literary, things metaphoric….

I am currently penning a short story called: ‘The Christmas Prawns’.

[Trad Xmas Game: Prawn Roulette: Cr: National US Archives: flickr]

‘The Christmas Prawns’ is about loved ones gathered at a Christmas luncheon table in a small inland town.

Prawns and this town are not comfortable bedmates……

 …..This town where December temps propel local climate change activists’ knickers into terrible knots which makes things ever more uncomfortable ….

……This town which is so far away from Source Of Prawns, they’re hauled in in armoured ice trucks manned by Special Prawn Guards………

….This town in which the ‘Prawn As Christmas Luncheon Centrepiece’ is a relatively new mantra.

The intro to ‘The Christmas Prawns’ says:

 ’All families love prawns, they just love them in their own way.’

For our family, Christmas Prawns are taken DIY style – everybody is removing those pesky digestive tracts at the table.

Festivities continue…….

But at 4pm, it starts. Mass queasiness, followed by unspeakable bodily evacuations.

‘The Christmas Prawns’ centres on just who will take responsibility for the shocking turn of events.

Who set the fridge temp?

Did the Prawn Purchaser transport the Prawns in the boot of their car?

Who assembled  The Prawn Platter?

Were rubber gloves provided?/if so, were they used?

How long was The Prawn Platter on the bench after assemblage?

In ‘The Christmas Prawns’, there are no answers.

I simply leave our fragile family on Boxing Day quietly coming to terms with the Christmas Prawns Fiasco.

This year, I want you to see The Off Prawn as a powerful metaphor for your family’s celebrations.

If something terrible happens, it is no one’s fault.

……..Just a intricate web of small oversights……

Culminating in a fully-blown traditional Yuletide Disaster.

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

So, Merry Christmas……..

But, you will hear from me briefly before then – because on Wednesday I’ll be flying Air Valium to a small inland town very far away from the Source Of Prawn.

And I am very much looking forward to having a good sniff of  my prawns pre-injestion come Christmas Day.

In the meantime, do you think the ‘Off’ Prawn metaphor is a good one for family life?

I hope so because ‘The Christmas Prawns’ is nearly finished and I’ve squeezed out every last drop of my creative juices on it, I really have…..

Another thing – as per tradition - here’s a little link to the Christmas song which I recorded with the musical genius, Big Swifty, a couple of Christmases ago. 

Never been better! 

[Big Swifty: We coulda been big! ]

 *Everybody said Big Swifty did a great job but they weren’t backwards in coming forward to offer this opinion:  KJ, you can’t sing!

click-to-hear-They’re-Your-Bloody-Family

Isn’t that mean?

 Next thing, the same people will be telling me ‘The Christmas Prawns’ doesn’t work, just does NOT work as a piece of literature.

Big deal!

Please report in – it’s free, easy - and it’ll really calm my nerves before Air Valium tries to take off  on Wednesday. Do the humane thing by:

Just clicking on the ‘comment’ thingo and following 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.

Kicking Bums For Christmas!

Monday, December 6th, 2010

Quelle horreur……

What to give those pesky loved ones for Chrissy when they [as they keep shouting to the world] apparently have everything’?

And when I say ‘everything’ I mean EVERYTHING…….

……Irritating personalities, nauseating insignificant others, 17 investment properties [18 if you count the paramilitary training camp in Costa Rica] and goddamnit, what appears to be percolating contentment, if not the cheap thrill that masquerades as happiness…….

What to give ‘em?

I know exactly……

I hereby declare Christmas 2010 as:

 ’The Year Of Giving Folks With EVERYTHING A Big Kick Up The Bum’.

[Xmas Shopping: State Library NSW. Cr: flickr]

It’s gunna be fantastic……..

Do start making those [usually tedious] now thrilling phone calls right away…..

Here’s your script. And do not deviate from it for maximum effect.

You: Good tidings! 

……It’s your unacceptable sister/ good time brother/selfish daughter/crazy n’er do well son/creepy cousin 34 times removed/hero who saved you from having a grostesque full head perm in 1982……..

And what, dear one, would you like for Chrissy?

Whoever: Thank you for asking but it just so happens that I have EVERYTHING……….

You: Yes, yes I’ve heard that…….but I’ve really been thinking hard……….

About what to give lucky you, you of the lucky 0.009876 of  lucky people who luckily have EVERYTHING…..

Whoever: What so, what so, what so? [you sweet little bearer of  unbounded joy?]

You: I’m going to give you something you really deserve….and you do deserve much…….

Whoever: What so, what so, what so?

You:  *A Big Chrissy Kick Up The Bum!

* Your conversation should end right here or shortly after.

Finally, fond pre-Chrissy thoughts of the ’seasonal’ ladies at the Leeton Cannery I worked with in the seventies……

These gals?

They were never in line for A Big Chrissy Kick Up The Bum…..

Stinking hot, hard, repetitive work…..

But above the shocking noise?

Always news of the latest Chrissy pressie triumphants…..

‘ The trampoline……T-R-A-M-P-O-L-I-N-E…… comes off lay-by today……

‘Great! I get my hands on Warren’s fishing tackle….T-A-C-K-L-E…..next pay……….

‘Better you than me….I still wanna get THE bikes……B-I-K-E-S……but we’ll just *haveta see, haveta see…….’

*Everyone knew Lorna’s hubby, Wazza, always needed a Good Kick Up The Bum all year round……

 But no need to say it, none at all…….

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

So, who will you be giving A Good Chrissy Kick Up The Bum….?

Perhaps you’re one of those folks who have everything – gee, what’s that like?  

What’s the worst Chrissie pressie that ever came your way? Did it make you feel totally unloved?

While I’ve got your attention, is it at all possible that Santa kicks his reindeers’ bums to make them go faster?

How’s that for a new Christmas story angle?!  

[Bosses take note. Well done KJ, if I don't say so myself.......]

****Before I go, best of luck to everyone in Gumly Gumly (near Wagga Wagga) facing the ire of the great Murrumbidgee. I know we have kerriejean.com community members down that way. Be safe – report in if you’ve got time. I know you’re very busy.

Looking forward to hearing from old and new visitors. It’s very easy to tell us what you’re doing/or thinking/or whose bums you’re kicking….

Do it by:

Just clicking on the ‘comment’ thingo and following 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.

Locusts+ White Xmas + Cookbooks

Monday, November 22nd, 2010

Dateline: Sunday, 5:30 pm.

How extraordinary!

A wet Sunday afternoon and in lobs correspondent Mr Chadwick with not a locust-based recipe…

But a plan for locust based nation-building….

If they were joined head to bum in a Line cable there’d be Enough to Network the Nation [Even if they have to be Silicon-Dipped]

Or implant the little beasties with microchips.

And they’ll blanket the nation in world beating New Locust Broadband Technology [NLBT]

On behalf of the nation, thank you Mr Chadwick.

Dateline: 2:45 pm.

Dipped Christmas Locust Bites:

Sitting here at work and yes, a Whammo! moment – compliments of  our correspondent, The Dude.

As you know, I’m absolutely obsessed with giving hand mixed, hand baked Chrissies pressies [and I'm even going to hand wash up the mess]

This is a new challenge BUT  Whammo! The Dude has just reported in with his recipe for what I predict will become Australia’s ICONIC Yuletide nibbly.

Dipped Christmas Locust Bites:

Seasonal treat. Perfect right now with locust plagues threatening six states and two territories.

*Take two big buckets fresh locusts.

*Dip locusts in three big buckets melted chocolate.

* Dip locusts in four big buckets dessicated coconut.

* For gifts for people who you like hand repeat process: Double Dipped Christmas Locust Bites.

Place by hand in small hand woven baskets. Hand wrap in pretty paper. Put scrunchie or hair ribbon on top.

November 25th, 2010: The day Dipped Christmas Locust Bites took Australia by storm.

Dateline: 3:09 pm, Wed.

Recipe: Fried White Christmas.

My very best ideas come out of nowhere. Whammo! Just like that!

And I’ve just had a private whammo! moment.

The great thing?

For all intents and purposes, my boss doesn’t know. I look the same, I’m acting the same: still my old belligerent self  [that's the great thing with at-work  private Whammo! moments]

Anyway, Whammo!

I’m going to do what I’ve heard a lot of other people do – and that’s cook things and put them in pretty baskets and put [new] hair ribbons on top – and distribute same as Xmas pressies.

Very special……..apparently makes giftees think they’re worth far more than a bar of  QUADRUPLED milled soap.

So – here it is: My Xmas Recipe Number #I for that Special Basket for that Special Person:

Fried White Christmas.

Buy two blocks White Christmas. [I do trust that everyone knows that White Xmas is that gorgeous copha based sweetie with nuts and fruit and a few other thingos in it]

Heat oil to furnace temperature.

Roll White Christmas in plain flour. Coat with beaten egg. Roll in breadcrumbs.

Fry for 12 secs.

Cool – put in Special Basket [Don't forget the new hair ribbon. If you haven't got ribbon, a scrunchie will do]

Whammo!

Must get back to work. I’ll give you more of my special Xmas recipes when I have more Whammo! moments.

[Isn't it funny the way CREATIVE minds work?]

KJ.

Read on for ‘Cookbooks Banned’ feature:

Picture this…..

I’m slowing dying on the packam pear process line at the Letona Co-op Cannery –  and suddenly, ’Lights, action!’

…..a gushing Mister Celebrity Foodie appears:

‘Gee KJ you look great in that traditional net cap, gee those packham pears look fantastic – and gee, don’t you just love – keeping with local tradition -  standing here for 18 hours a day pushing beautiful hometown produce into tins?’

[Traditional sausage provedores. Cr: UW Digital Collection: flickr]

Me: ‘Yes Sir, I live for it…

‘Just like my mum’s godfather and my dad’s best mate - and my last highly irresponsible but, nonetheless, quite likeable boyfriend - before me……..

‘I  just love feeling the pears,  hearing the clink, clank clatter of the tins – and, best of all, I love knowing these fine and juicy locally sourced pears make folks – from Kiama to Kyoto -who really know their pears, immediately orgasmic.’

‘Tradition ya know, tradition……’

[KJ hands big pear to Mister Celebrity Foodie]

‘Try it Sir.’

[Bite, crunch, traditional Mister Celebrity Foodie eye pop]

‘Fantastic KJ, just fantastic! Th….th….th….THANK YOU for being part of my show!’

…..Thank God, I was stuffing pears into tins well, well before ‘Foodie Fetish’ television.

I pity Malaysian satay stick street sellers, Penang prawners, Kabul kebabists, Delhi naanists, Ho Chi Minh hoisin hawkers…..and hand made noodle makers everywhere…….. 

There they are going about their business – hard, repetitive, long hours, bad pay - and out of the blue appears Mister Celebrity Foodie with perplexing news…….

(a)’……….You have the best satays/kebabs/samosas/fried pigeon testicles in the whole world…’

 (b) ‘You’re the sweetest, happiest, (albeit poorest) person I’ve ever met’ - AND….

 (c) ‘ Please, please keep smiling because I’m about to hijack your wok (step aside NOW!) and throw together one of those great traditional fried pigeon testicle thingos. Lights, camera, ACTION!’

How’s that for rude?

Downright rude –  and downright condescending to boot.

Now, if you’re thinking, ‘this has nothing to do with me’, WRONG!

Australia has a long tradition of street food vendors.

They’re called ‘CWA Ladies’ who operate out of ‘CWA Cake Stalls’.

And are you going to sit by and let THIS happen – because it most surely will……

…..Gordon Ramsey raids the CWA’s Cake Stall in Pine Avenue, Leeton – or millions of similar venues thoughout the country.

‘You call this a ******* lamington, you call this a ******* scone.

‘You’re ******* joking…..

‘Step aside ladies, step aside……’

I don’t want this, you don’t want this…….

Today’s message is my most heartfelt of 2010.

Please do not mistake it’s simplicity for lack of passion…….

Stop the rot, stop watching celebrity cooking shows NOW!!!!!!!

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

So friends, lots to talk about……..

Will you be joining my campaign against television cooking shows?

I forgot to add – it also includes a ban on cookbooks as Christmas pressies.

[I'm soooooooo bored with loved ones sitting around on Christmas Day reading new recipes out loud  - when they should be doing traditional things like niggling me]

And it also involves answering every year’s most irritating question: ‘What would you like for Christmas lunch?’ with:

‘Uncle Toby’s Oats.’

So, come on join the conversation. Make KJ’s day and week and year by reporting in on what’s happening in your patch – and why you think/don’t think celebrity television chefs are ruining your life and threatening/not threatening CWA cake stalls.

Let’s get back to the good old country Bake Off,

Six local women pitted against each other (using the latest super dooper electric ranges) down at the local electricity providers’ showrooms.

[cr: UW Digital Collections: flickr]

Six women sweating it out in front of their goggled-eyed friends and nervy families.

Six women (from newly marrieds to madly menopausal) wanting so wanting to come up with their town’s best ever………..’butter cake, no bi-carb’.

Now that’s hard….that’s really hard….

Go on, talk to the Pacific Rim by:

Just clicking on the ‘comment’ thingo and following 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.

I’m 90! + Tweets + Belly Flops Feature

Monday, November 15th, 2010

Dateline Sunday: 10:26am.

Just saw one of my dear sisters. She said:

‘You look ninety.’

I said: ‘No I don’t and don’t say disturbing things like that.’

Emergency!

Rang another sis (I’ve got plenty more sissies where sissie #1 came from….)

I said: ‘I’ve just been told that I look ninety.’

She said: ‘Well, you do. Everyone says it’s to do with that long hair. Daggy. Drags ya face down….’

I said: ‘So you think I look ninety too?’

She said: ‘All I’m saying is that IT could be close to the mark.’

I said: ‘Goodbye.’

Now, you all have a nice day.

I won’t be doing much.

When you’re ninety just waking up is a bonus.  KJ.

*Have you heard the sensational ‘Something In The Hair Yet?’ (old folks are crazy for it…..)

www.kerriejean.com.au/something-in-the-hair/

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

Dateline Friday 2:16pm.

KJ’s Special Royal Wedding Commentator, Palm Avenue, argues for fiscal restraint in a time of unbounded passion……. 

You know, with the current austerity drive by the ConDem coalition in the United Kingdom, there’s a great opportunity for financial savings with these impending royal nuptials . . .

Wills is recycling his mum’s engagement ring . . . and doesn’t Catherine (as she is apparently now to be known) look spiffing in it!

Vivienne Westwood – on royal warrant – could do a cut and sew job on Di’s old wedding dress, currently gathering dust in a museum.

As a recent NINE news report suggested, they could have a registry office ceremony around the corner from the palace for the sum total of 150 pounds.

And, as its present to the newly wedded couple, Australia could throw an Aussie Barbie at Australia House in Earls Court, as the couple’s wedding reception.

I’d happily nominate our ambassador to the Vatican, Mister Tim Fischer, to be master of ceremonies.

For those demanding a regal video record, a local video person could do some digital mischief on an old film of Chuck and Di’s wedding by simply superimposing heads!

That would supply some employment for the currently moribund British film industry and generate millions of dollars in sales for the British economy from fawning royalists.

You know it makes sense!

Dateline: Thurs 3:20pm.

Royal Engagement: Media Debacle.

As a member (proud hack section) of the fourth estate, I apologise.

IT was there in black and white – IT was there for the taking….

AND just like me -  an obsesssive Royal watcher since I won the ’six decorated arrowroot biscuits’ category at what I mistakely thought was the Royal Leeton Show -  no one sniffed the story……..

Any journalist worth their salt should have picked  IT up  - and secured  a Walkley (and a Pulitzer) in the process.

The truth?

FOUR YEARS AGO there was very public confirmation that Kate M and Big Willy’s engagement was a done deal.

That confirmation?

Kate’s mother, Carole, caught over doing it on nicotine replacements on one of  Big Willy’s * biggest days.

May I quote?

‘There have undoubtedly been mistakes along the way, including an ill-judged decision to have Kate help plug products on the website of the family’s mail-order company, and Carole Middleton’s chewing of nicotine gum at Prince William’s graduation parade at Sandhurst military academy in 2006……’ [Vancouver Sun]

Obvious.

Carole knew she would not to be allowed to smoke at the upcoming engagement bash.

She knew smoking was banned in wedding central – whether that be Westminster Abbey or St Paul’s. She knew a sneaky puff in the lav between the vows and the signing of the registry would set off  alarms. 

And most  importantly, she knew that if the Royal family [and the rest of the world] discovered that their Big Willy was marrying into a smoker’s family, Kate would be quickly resuming her career  in dispatch.

……Sending out bon bons and sparklers ordered from mumsy and dadsys’  party supply firm.

Again, apologies.

You should have known FOUR YEARS AGO  that this decade’s most sensational pairing  [and the thrilling prospect of yet another ugly Royal de-pairing]  was set in stone. 

Get angry. Ring Media Watch. 

Get pious.

Make no mistake, you have been short changed……..

* Read the full evidence of one of the biggest stories of the last 100 years finally being filed - four years late!

Shame!

 http://www.vancouversun.com/news/Middle+class+couple+raised+future+queen/3840732/story.html

 Forgive me. KJ.

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

Dateline: Tuesday 3:21pm.

Incident Report:

Mission: Retrieval from bottom of  Special Occasions Knickers’ Draw - one pair black cossies with Ultra High Grade Reinforced modesty skirt. (Patent 345678: NASA: 1972)

Purchased: Griffith K-Mart Superstore, Christmas 1995.

Aim of  Cossie Retrieval Mission:  Secure cossies. Try on same. Take  long  look in mirror from several perspectives. Ring sisters. Inform them 15 year old cossies still fit like a dream.

Cossie retrieval mission result: Disturbing.

Problem?

Polystyrene bra cups - end stage disintegration.

[Probably toxic. Probably dangerous]

Solution: Rubber gloves and mask. Isolate disintegrating polystyrene bra cups. Cut from cossie. Sweep up debris. Carefully place in Woolies plastic bag. Secure. Bin.

Intact cossie fuselage?

The niftiest little duster you ever did see!

Oh dear………

 Belly Flopping Story……

  I don a UV repelling size 20 black tee-shirt - with matching size 18 black cottontails –  once every two years.

And attempt to go swimming.

It’s always a big ticket event.

For example, the last time was in 2008 when reports came through that a 12345 kilo Murray Cod – and her 2435 kilo cub - had been observed frolicking on the Riverina’s famed water skiing river stretch, Turkey Flat.

Enough to say that after two minutes fighting the dangerous, draining drag factor generated by waterlogged Bonds accoutrements blowing out to eight times their size, this Murrumbigee blow up Michelin woman declared her mission ‘What Definitely Does Not Lurk Beneath’ – and packed it in.

 [Belly Flop Protection:cr: Nationaal Archief: flickr]

Let’s get real here……

I hate swimming because…..because……because……while I can save myself [but not my mascara] when yet another sociopath (yawn) throws me into the shallow end of a toddler’s wading pool, that’s as far as it goes.

The problem?

I have the ugliest stroke on the Pacific Rim.

And the cruelest thing? 

At least seventeen self-proclaimed celebrity ’Learn To Float Then Swim’ Bronze Medallion toting instructors at the Leeton Memorial Swimming Pool observed me thrashing about like Bob Katter at a ‘I Hate Sugar’ forum….

They saw me do panicky 360-degree ugly ’rollovers’ to grab breath……

And they sneered as my white zinc creamed nose turned pink zinc [humiliation can do this] long before such a commercially viable product hit the shelves….

And they did NOTHING – except get out clipboards:

Skills: Diddly Squat.

Pretty In The Water?  No. Ugly.

Potential: To Drown.

So, no wonder then that one of the great Australian cultural traditions - getting melanomas while swimming in pools, the surf, sunken bores, irrigation channels, storm run-off and the controversial Murray Darling Basin – has passed me by.

Until now.

Because I’m happy to report that Belly Flop competitions are the rage in the United States of America  – and so will surely come here.

I’m good at Belly Flopping - always have been.

…….The exhilaration of a [totally unexpected] great, ugly Belly Flop………  

…..The body’s circumference as if on fire, the sniggers of onlookers who knew you as an ugly swimmer but never suspected there was more, the re-surfacing with ears pinned back that will never resume normal positioning….

But overriding all of this, the mystery and power of a supremely ugly Belly Flop beautifully executed.

So, join me in making this the Pacific Rim’s ’The Summer Of The Great Ugly Belly Flop’.

And let’s face it, there are many of you who have more Belly to Flop than ever before. Fantastic.

*And if you’d like to extend the notion of the ‘Flop’ to other endeavours outside the pool, I’ll support you every bit of the way.

I most surely will……

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

So, as per usual, it’d be lovely to hear about your flops, belly or otherwise.

Is swimming overrated?

Why do Australians prefer swimming to reading Proust? [Something I'll never understand]

Do you fancy yourself as someone having an elegant stroke? Do tell, do tell…….

Come on – be kind to yourself – join the conversation by:

Just clicking on the ‘comment’ thingo and following 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.

THE Question + Masculinity Week!

Monday, November 8th, 2010

God help me – it’s on again!

…There I was at an exclusive gathering minding my own business [always a crowd pleaser] when a family heavyweight popped THE question:

And where are you spending Christmas this year?

IT’S underway.

Apart from the traditional Australian Magpie Aerial Dogfight Festival, my least favorite time of the year. 

…..The ‘And where are you spending Christmas this year?’ season.

So, soooooooo tedious.

And so, sooooooooo shallow…..

Because there’s every likelihood that the ’and where are you spending Christmas this year?’ questioners dislike you [quite a bit]

They hope very much you’ll answer:

‘As per tradition I’m spending Christmas alone.  But between 1:28-1:30 pm I’ll be on skype watching my one friend interstate eating a drumstick…’

Answer: ‘Good, good KJ. Good bye.’

So, join me.

DO NOT participate in the ‘And where are you spending  Christmas this year?’ fiasco.

STOP the perpetrators in their dismal tracks – with:

‘As per tradition I’m spending Christmas alone.  But between 1:28-1:30 pm I’ll be on skype watching my one friend interstate eating a drumstick…’

Note: If you are indeed doing that change ‘interstate’ to ‘Alaska’  -  and ‘drumstick’ to  ’moose mousse’.

cr: Field Museum Library: flickr

[Merry Moose Mousse! ]

Read on for Australian Masculinity Week.

There are people who take pride in recognising the call of the triple-buttocked Riverina sparrow…….

Fair enough - but I work on the other, more complex, side of town…..

And what I’m recognising is a desperate collective call for help from the men of Australia – further, I’m honouring it…..

Enough of the negativity, enough of counting chest hairs, enough of strong, super fit men on construction sites so desiring to wolf whistle but afraid they’ll be arrested, enough of  boudoirs as battlegrounds – ‘do this Wazza, don’t do that Wazza, refer to the anatomy wall chart Wazza’…………

…..And enough of good Australian men proud to present well and, for example, having their endeavours laughed off the back of the Fashions on the Field truck at the Broken Hill Maltese Cup [so-called] Fun Day. 

* It is our correspondent Old College Day Bum’s recent report of the shocking Maltese Cup incident that sees me at the barricades, declaring this no less than:

AUSTRALIAN MASCULINITY WEEK.

 

photo
['I support Australian Masculinity Week.'
Cr: State Library and Archives of Florida: flickr]

It’s about bloody time.

As the last born of Hec and Gwennie’s five lovely daughters, I witnessed a raw regional brand of Australian Masculinity trying, dying to ‘come out’ on a daily basis.

The terrible truth?

Behind the facade, we were living with a suppressed Ernest Hemingway without the book royalties.

Tragically, Hec’s Masculinity was deemed ‘family hostile’, even downright dangerous.

And in a futile attempt at control which only served to make our Hemingway even more prone to bouts of  Masculine Murrumbigee Melancholia, his very manhood was literally padlocked, locked up in a top secret cupboard on an otherwise ordinary back verandah.

The gendered contraband?

* Three rifles [Duck shooting and comforting shots in the air to ward off  smelly wild cats spraying the wood heap.

* Enough ammo to take out every endangered duck from the South Australian border to Leeton's famed Tuckerbill Swamp.

* Four, 'lucky' pairs of Y-Fronts. Long rubber pants. Gum boots. ( *The little known sensual side of duck shooting. Hemingway always wanted to write about it but sadly his editors deemed it inappropriate).

* Three World War Two regulation issue army blankets (Ground cover, Hec's famous deadly serious Anzac Day two-up schools).

Now, isn't it just awful that for Hec -  and so many men of his generation - the most potent symbols of their Australian Masculinity HAD to be locked away?

NO wonder our Hec Hemingway spent his days dreaming of the back verandah cache - sipping strong liquor and secretly planning adventures.

The saddest thing of all?

The knowledge that his loved ones would never understand, let alone approve.

So, let us NOT perpetuate the confusion that has so plagued Australian men.

This is a week where feats of derring-do, embarrassing stumbles in love, the futile search for the right words, the inherent contraditions of trying to be 'Australian' and 'male' - and the mysteries of that special brand of Pacific Rim libido - will all be celebrated.

Ladies and gentleman, I declare Australian Masculinity Week, open........

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Well, well, well.......if Australian Masculity Week is not a 'big ticket' event I will ring Mr Scott of the Corporation and tell him I shouldn't be in the business.

.....Tell him I've completely lost my way. Tell him I'm coming out as a real 'has been' who shouldn't be in charge of a Breville hand mixer let along a major cultural forum.

[Help me out baby, help me out....]

What does Australian Masculinity mean to you?

What’s the most exciting display of Australian Masculinity you’ve ever witnessed? 

Do Australian women feel cheated because they’ve never been given the chance to explore their Masculinity?

Are there regional variations of Australian Masculinity?

And, of course, anything else that’s happening in your patch, gender based or not……

[Help me out baby, help me out.....] by:

Just clicking on the ‘comment’ thingo and following 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.

‘Carport To A Brick’: Our Tipster Wins The Oaks!

Sunday, October 31st, 2010

Thursday: 6:40pm:

Thank you again to our exclusive tipster Roma Street who has made our Spring Carnival SO memorable – and, in the process, has lead to at least half the carports in Australia now being RE-mortgaged.

*Roma Street is a VALUE shopper.

Today, targetting The Oaks, she picked either favourite ‘Brazilian Pulse’ or ‘Sasa’ to win.

Spot on.

‘Brazilian Pulse’ 1st, ‘Sasa’ 2nd. For VALUE shoppers, our Murray-Darling Basin bred tipster went [understandably] for ‘Riceman’. No divvy there but connections say his water allocation is safe.

*Roma Street proudly sponsored by the fun and feisty Kerriejean.com community.

Thursday: 12:20pm.

Our Racing Carnival Week has just got a whole lot MORE intense……

[cr: Powerhouse Museum Collection: flickr]

Roma Street – our ‘Carport To A Brick’ tipster [writing exclusively for Kerriejean.com] has just reported in with her Oaks Day specials.

My advice? RE-MORTGAGE THE CARPORT AND GET ON ‘RICEMAN’ NOW!

[Roma Street]…..I was looking forward to a solid night in front of ‘The Sportsman’ last night, and was hoping to cover most of the program, but after work, dinner, kids etc, the flesh was weak.

I spread out the guide, equipped myself with fresh pens, bunged on the Bach, but after half an hour or so found that the demands of the day had turned my grey matter to sludge.

Nevertheless – I was able to assemble a thought or two before crawling under the doona as an act of abject surrender.

The Oaks is generally the most obvious and predictable form race of the Spring.

Class normally prevails – odds-on and short-priced favourites salute more often than not.

‘Brazilian Pulse’ and ‘Sasa’ fill the bill, but we’re not going to raise the whippy to buy the Majestic Hydro, draw the blinds and live out our days as the town eccentric by taking the shorts, so we’ll work around them and have something each-way on ‘KITTENS’ - trained by the hard-nosed and wily former Mt Gamberian, Mr Mark Kavanagh.

She looks a progressive type and had no luck in the Wakeful.

Later in the day (much later – the last race), we come to another redoubtable Mt Gamberian horseman in Mr Dean Saxon, and his stalwart ‘RICEMAN’

The old boy has been around since *Lin Gordon was in short pants, but is in the form of his career.

[*Former Member for Murrumbigee - NSW Parliament: Minister for Racing]

And unlike a real rice man, you won’t hear this ‘RICEMAN’ complaining about too much rain, because today’s heavy conditions will suit him to a tee  – and also unlike a real rice man, he won’t talk your ear off about the Fabian Society and the one world government conspiracy.

KJ Comments: 

Thank you Roma Street.

And here’s hoping ‘Riceman’ still has his head in the trough – and won’t be selling his water rights until after the carnival.

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

Wednesday, 10:30am: Our Spring Racing Carnival Special just got hotter!

Just in – a poignant report from Broken Hill filed by Old College Day Bum:

HOW MY MASCULINITY UNRAVELLED!

cr:State Library of NSW:flickr

Speaking of race day fashions, I went to a trotting meeting last year for the first time since the days of the legendary *Paleface Adios. [Inter Dominion champ from hot Riverina trotting hub, Temora]

I was related to a connection of a last start winner at Mildura so I thought I might be onto some good oil and give the bookies a pasting.

The event was the Maltese Cup meeting at Broken Hill’s Memorial Paceway.

I recalled the Leeton trots of my youth as fairly classy dress up affairs so I decided to go smart casual: ie dress shirt and good pair of jeans.

This seemed to pay off and I was pleasantly flattered when a woman approached me and asked if I would like to compete in Fashions on the Field.

It was a hot night and a quick survey of the crowd indicated the trotting fraternity had definitely let dress standards slip in the last twenty years so I thought I might be in with a chance.

The stage was the typical rustic and rusting flat bed trailer in front of the grandstand – and I admit experiencing a few butterflies as I mounted the stairs to moderate polite applause.

I thought my main competition was an old codger who was the only competitor dressed in a suit - and he had a flower in his lapel and an open shirt displaying a good crop of grey chest hairs.

……Obviously he had dressed for the competition and I thought he could be a sentimental favourite with the crowd.

Surprisingly the real competition turned out to be the surly young punk wearing ordinary tee shirt - clinging tightly to a six pack - with knee length shorts.

He must have been the darling of the young trotting groupies because they met his introduction with squeals of lustful delight – and sadly this was probably the factor that most swayed the judges.

Perhaps if I had read your advice about people of a certain age not wearing jeans I might have avoided being the mutton dressed up as lamb cannon fodder that I turned out to be.

….Or perhaps some strategically positioned pieces of fruit might have got me a few lustful squeals as well.

The horse finished ’stone motherless’ so all in all it might be another twenty years before I venture back onto a racetrack - but I will certainly consider your fashion advice before I do.

KJ Comments:

Dear Old College Day Bum,

There is much in here…..NO less than vexed issues of contemporary masculinity laid bare….

And I think I can speak on behalf of everyone in our community in thanking you for your candour.

First things first….

It was natural of you to be flattered when the young Fashion on the Field Broken Hill Malteser Cup co-ordinator identified you as being fully clothed – and so determined that your participation in the competition, was appropriate.

It was totally understandable that you subsequently mounted the Fashion on the Field truck feeling good -a visitor who took pride in his appearance and was NOT afraid to make a dramatic personal statement to this effect.

It was WRONG of the judges to ignore your efforts and instead opt for a semi-naked adonis carrying illegal quantities of alcopops.

It is very sad that your Malteser Cup Day was marred.

It is also true that NO amount of ’strategically placed’ fruit would have changed the judges’ minds.

I think I can safely say on behalf of our community that a pineapple down your pants on the back of the Fashions on the Field truck at Broken Hill’s Malteser Cup Day would have left you feeling even worse – if that’s at all possible.

Thank you for sharing your Malteser Cup day with us. KJ.

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

Tuesday, 3:39pm. Thank you to our official tipster Roma Street. She’ll be back next year.

…..When I WILL be RE- recommending: ‘RE-mortgage the RE-mortgaged carport.’

KJ – thanks for the honour of asking me to be the official Melbourne Cup tipster.

My advice to you - and our fraternity and sorority – is to do the following:

Go down to your local park or step into your top paddock…

Take with you a grapefruit and a knee-length sock.

Put the grapefruit into the sock and shove it down to the toe.

Take a firm hold of the other (open) end of the sock, twirl it around your head to gain some momentum, and when you’re ready – fling it.

How far that grapefruit travels will be approximately equivalent to how far SO YOU THINK is going to win by.

He is the greatest post-war Australian racehorse and at four years of age, and with two Cox Plates under his belt and only 56 kg on his back, he has not so much beaten the handicapper as bludgeoned him to death with a pick handle.

For those who like to have a little lash at the trifecta, the only horse who is not so close in the weights to So You Think as to represent the most negligible of threats is MALUCKYDAY.

The shrewd John Hawkes has kept this fellow’s powder dry and snuck him in with only 51 kgs by sending him around week in, week out against the dromedaries and dairy cows that constitute the Sydney staying ranks, before letting the cat out of the bag in Saturday’s Lexus, where he towelled up a handy bunch of Cup aspirants.

Of the foreign raiders, it always pays to keep an eye on the Sheik’s second stringer. The Godolphin outfit generally sends a much-vaunted blueblood and a stoic, much travelled yeoman for his travelling companion.

More often than not, the journeyman is the one who runs the bold race.

This year, the part of the monocle-sporting Hooray Henry will be played by Holberg, and filling the role of journeyman is CAMPANOLOGIST. Throw the bell ringer in for 3rd.

[*Now.....back to a happy 'horsey' story which will NOT cost you a cent]

Being part of a country bookie’s team came with great privileges……

I know.

Because – for 10 years between the ages of five and 15 – I was the T-Bone Steak runner for Hec Ross, *Penciller for Bookie John ‘Willo’ Williamson and his crew of Merry Bookiemen…..

…..’Bad Billy’, ‘Chantie’, ‘Lamontal’ – snazzy ‘loud’ tie types sporting nifty fedoras with sprigs of duck feathers tucked in the bands.

[*The clerk, often known as the penciller, he would record the bets, the ticket numbers, the volume of the bet and he would have to manually add all those together during the course of betting on a race. You had to be very sharp to do all that in your head. Veteran bookie, Gavin Marantelli]

[cr: State Library of Queensland:flickr]

Excuse me KJ, but didn’t you mention T-Bone Steak?

I did, so I did….

In this context. 

On Saturday mornings - well before Willo’s traditional country bookie vessel of conveyance [maroon 56-piston Ford Fairlane] roared to a deafening halt outside Leeton’s Fibro Palace De Acacia Boulevard – Penciller Hec got to consume the only T-Bones ever taken at court.

The ‘One Special T-Bone A Week Decree’ came from Queen Gwennie. 

She’d long determined that if Penciller Hec was to keep Willo [and ultimately us] solvent, top shelf brain protein would have to be purchased.

So, every Saturday I secured from master butcher Mr Maltman one huge Special T-Bone which was devoured by the palace’s pensive Penciller in front of his Rice Bubble consuming courtiers.

It is said that the Special T-Bones did their work.

Our Penciller travelled far and wide…….

And Willo’s betting ledger was always compiled with startling accuracy - whether it be during locust plague affected race meetings in regional Victoria or gala breeder showcase trotting events closer to home.

Even a couple of sneaky sips of DA did not affect The Penciller’s extraordinary Special T-Bone fuelled powers of odds driven mental gymnastics.

It would be wrong of me to leave you with the impression that Willo’s crack team of Merry Bookiemen did not have fun.

……..Breaking land speed records between country racing and trotting hubs, singing and downing DA  if relieved of Fairlane rocket control duties – and remembering ‘Big Bonus’ bacchanalias when every favourite ‘was still goin’ round…’

But, as so often in life, it is the unexpected that makes you think:  ‘Thank God for this, thank God for that….’

And thank God for the fortifying Special T-Bone when a freak occurrence cruelly interrupted the Merry Bookiemen as they were rocketing along on the outskirts of Grafton for that pretty regional centre’s Annual Cup meeting.

Willo was at the wheel.

No-one remembers the exact sequence of events.

But everyone in the Fairlane witnessed the shocking result of same.

A calf came crashing through the windscreen, landing on our reclining back seat Special T-Bone digesting Penciller.

The Merry Bookiemen were speechless.

Only a record breaking stream of  ‘one breath’ expletives from The Penciller broke the silence.

Who was but a short time later spotted calmly doing his calculations on the picture perfect Grafton Racecourse….

In a new suit purchased from a local outfitter enroute to the track.

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

So, here’s to country bookies. Mostly gone now, T-Bone fortified or not.

SPECIAL KJ PLEA FOR CUP DAY: 

On Tuesday, I am asking Australian women to leave their silly fascinators and hats at home and instead [a la Carmen Miranda] attach bananas, grapes, oranges, pears and any other stone fruits – to their heads.

Why?

It’s undoubtedly attractive BUT I see it as a gesture of support for the embattled irrigators of the Murray-Darling Basin.

So, remember – a food bowl on your head this Cup Day [T-Bone optional].

*And no-one in your office is allowed to start picking you until 10pm (yippee!) 

So, let’s have a happy week. Pleasure and politics. Fun and ideology……..

Looking forward to hearing from you. 

……..Particularly if you’ve ever been in the Air Emirates tent at Flemington – tell me, tell me NOW, what do Krug and Krispy Kreme donuts taste like together…..tell me NOW…..

By:

Just clicking on the ‘comment’ thingo and following 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.