Dangergene saunters in with bags of MOS burger for everyone
Hey hi folks! Sorry I’m late!
Awwww man! Welby, that MMP made me all homesick, dammit! Cos even though I grew up in Sydney (down in Ozland), I did a LOT of growing up on the family farm waaaaay north of Sydney. We’ve only got 700acres :D, but your description of Steve’s place is well… it’s pretty much the same as our place. Except we’re on TOP of the mountain so we look down into the valley and the other mountains and the trees and sigh. (This farm isn’t to be confused with Great-Aunt Jean’s place way over the mountains and past Bathurst, that place is a goodly 10,000acres!).
And yes, our front porch (we say ‘verandah’, not ‘porch’) faces the valley, the back verandah faces the car park and that’s where the main door is. You can’t get into the house from the front verandah, cos it’s waaaay off the ground. As confusing as this might seem it’s simply an orientation issue, the front of the house faces the better view, so the back of the house faces the work area.
I gotta stop talking about it. I haven’t been up there in years! Each time we head back to Sydney, we fuly intend to go up there but we never have enough time, and the wife is Singapore born and bred, so she has issues with country night-times. It’s too dark and too quiet and she’s just convinced something bad is going to happen. It’s VERY hard to convince her that we’re too far from anywhere for anything bad to happen!
Anyways, our weekend was …interesting to say the least.
We did father’s day stuff on saturday (apparently Mrs Dangergene’s dad was busy on sunday). I said happy father’s day to him and invited him to wish me a happy father’s day too, but he declined. Apparently respect only flows one way in his head! Blah!
He’s an ass sometimes! We had Tim Sum for lunch, which was delicious and very cool until they brought out the Peking Duck. The slicer-upper was slicing skin off the duck and his loverly-assistant was puting the skin into the little Peking Duck pastry pouches with sauce and vege. I soon realised they’ve almost finished the pouches and made none with actual duck meat. It was all just duck skin (yuck-o!). So I say, ‘uh… hey, are you going to do any with actual meat?’. The response is a very serious ignoring. (I’m often ignored, I’m used to it).Then the guy finishes cutting the skin off and picks up the duck carcass (meat intact, but no skin) and walks away. I kinda jump up and down and say,
…‘where (the hell) is he going with that?’.
…‘he’s puting it in a box for you’
…‘but what about cutting some meat so we can have some actual nice peking duck!’
…‘hunh?’
…‘meat!!! Duck meat, not icky duck skin! Y’know, like they eat it in China’
(I’ve had Peking Duck in Shanghai and Beijing several times and it’s NEVER just duck skin). So loverly-assistant asks,
…’ hunh… uh… you want some meat, is it?’
…‘well, yes’
So she trundles off and returns 15minutes later with a plate of meat that hasn’t been filleted in any way. Just chopped up with a cleaver, bones and gristly bits and blah! sigh. What a way to ruin what should have been the best dish of the meal.
Then we went SHOPPING!
And bought a backpack to carry the Young Master. He LOVES that cos now he can look people in the eye and yell at them as we walk down the street. We also bought a bunch of general baby stuff, wifey bought some clothes, I bought toys and comics (what’s new?)…
…and we bought the most wonderful drink I’ve ever drunk! This is a drink called ‘Pudding shake’. It’s a caramel pudding in a drink can. You shake it up, open it and drink it! Howza!
Sunday? nothing happened on Sunday. Oh, except the Youg Master fell over, again, and split open a little gash on his chin, again. It makes me feel awful, but we got it cleaned and patched and now it’s just a red mark. What makes it sadder is that I commented just that morning that the scar from last time he did it (and needed 5 stitches) is fading to insignificance, and then he goes and smashes it again! To the Other Parents, do your kids do stuff like this? Does it make you sad? He needed LOTS of hugs during the day and I took him out for a backpack walk in the arvo, which he enjoyed a lot. But then needed more hugs later.
Oh and Young Master has his first confirmed, definite meaning word, ‘Die’ (which means ‘Bye’ but is a lot more amusing as a pissed off epithet from a smiling 1year old 
).
Swampy now it’s my turn to say, ‘come in out of that pool young man, doncha know you’ll get ZARKed** by lightning? And then what would we do for witty pool-side reparte?’
