A Story Of Life And Death

The last time Tamara was in Sydney I offered to drop her off at the airport so she could take her very early Sunday morning flight back to Rome. Tamara has always had a great fear of flying even before the tragedy which would befall her family so taking her to the airport and making sure she is okay is a very important job as her friend. You see Tamara lost her sister Shelly in an aircraft accident off the coast of South Africa, so you can imagine she doesn’t enjoy flying and it makes her nervous and upset, and that is being very general when it comes to how she feels regarding the matter.

So as Tamara was checking in at the Qantas counter she began to get very anxious about the impending flight. I had advised her she should inform the check in clerk of her circumstances so he would sympathize with her and give her the seat where she felt the safest in the aircraft but by the time she was loading her bags onto the conveyor belt she was becoming gripped with emotion. I took charge of the situation because by this point Tamara would not have spoken at all. I just told the check in clerk the truth of the matter, that her sister had died in an aircraft accident and she wanted to sit in a particular row and seat as this is where she felt most comfortable.

The Qantas check in clerk was amazing to say the least. He was probably in his late 40’s and looked like a real true blue Australian surfer boy from way back. As soon as I told him why Tamara was upset he stopped what he was doing and looked us both in the eye and asked if we wanted to hear a great story that he hoped would help Tamara with how she was feeling. He said he was also dealing with the grief of losing someone close to him and he wanted to share the story with us. Of course I was happy for any diversion especially if it helped to calm Tamara’s growing nerves. He told us he had a life long friend who he had surfed with and partied with since they were teenagers.

This friend had been with him threw thick and thin and one day told him he was going to live in Thailand as he wanted to enjoy a more relaxed lifestyle. The check in guy said he was happy for his friend and knew he would see him often as he could travel over to visit anytime with his staff travel. He said he traveled back and fourth to see his friend plenty of times and they always had a great time.

One day his friend called him and told him he had prostate cancer, but that he shouldn't’t worry as he was getting treated and should be okay. Unfortunately he said his friend after a short period of treatment was not responding well and the cancer was becoming more aggressive. Not long after he spoke to his friend another friend of his called and told him to go and visit his life long friend in Thailand as soon as he could as he feared he may not last too much longer. Of course he said he rushed over to Thailand to visit with his friend and they spent the time he was there surfing and doing all the normal things they would do even though his friend was by this point becoming very sick.

When it was time for him to return to Australia he said he felt really sad and didn’t want to leave his friend. So as one last big night out they went on a drinking binge the night before his flight to Sydney. He said he was so pissed he couldn’t recall even getting on the flight home but half way into the flight he started to sober up. He then had to go to the toilet and to his horror noticed his balls were pad locked together with a giant home made chastity belt his friend had obviously put on him as a prank. He said he had to go to a locksmith upon arrival in Sydney to get it removed. He said it was pretty funny, even though it hurt like hell.

Within a few weeks he got a call from his friend advising him that the cancer was becoming untreatable and he didnt know how much longer he had to live. He said his friends main reason for the call was to inform him he had left his sandals at his place in Thailand and not to rush back because he wasnt going to get them back as his friend had liked the look of them and wanted to keep them for himself. He said that was the kind of friend he was a real joker. In fact he said he thought he may have even knocked the sandals off from his suitcase before he left. Who knows.??

A few weeks after this call from his friend the Doctor in the Thai hospital where his friend was receiving treatment called to tell him to come back to Thailand quickly as his friend was dying and he should return immediately as his friend had only a little time left on this earth.

The check in clerk said he flew to Thailand within hours and caught a cab straight to the hospital. Fortunately his friend was still alive but in a semi consciences state and had not spoken for many days to the other loved ones who were also there with him. Upon the check in clerk walking into the room his mate sat bolt upright and started laughing hysterically. He told us it made everyone in the room start to laugh hysterically but nobody knew what was going on or how he could have got the strength to start laughing. His friend never said a word, just laughed until he fell back into unconsciousness. He said within hours his friend died surrounded by himself, family and friends.

The check in clerk then said as he was leaving the hospital after his friend had died a nurse approached him and gave him a letter written by his friend outlining his final instructions for funeral and burial arrangements. The letter said he wanted the check in clerk to go and wash and dress his body and then he was to be cremated in a traditional Thai ceremony then the check in clerk was to return his ashes to Sydney and spread them over the beach where they used to surf together.

The check in clerk said he was nervous to go and do such a job as washing and dressing his friend but he knew he had to do it. He said the nurse agreed to help him and brought him the clothing which had been set aside for his friend to be dressed in. Upon walking into the room where his friend lie dead and waiting to be bathed he said he took one look at the silly bastard and burst out laughing, the reason for his laughter at his now dead friend was due to the fact that his dead friend was wearing the check in clerks sandals which he had left behind in Thailand on their final holiday together.

After the cremation ceremony and all was said and done he was provided with his friends ashes to return back to Sydney with. So he boarded the Qantas flight and began the long journey home with his friend safely placed in his hand luggage in the over head compartment. He said some way into the journey home he just started crying and really wanting his friend back. At this point in the conversation the check in clerk was crying and so were we. He told us how much fun they had together and how whilst flying home he was mourning the loss of such a funny and true mate. He wondered how he could continue on without him in his life. So at 30 thousand feet above the ground and all of a sudden he said he had the sudden urge to just hold his friend, he said he just wanted to be close to him. So he jumped up and grabbed his bag from the over head locker and took his friends ashes out to just sit in his seat and hold onto him.

At this point the check in clerk began to laugh hysterically as he said that for some unknown reason as he went to sit back down in his seat he lost his footing and took a few steps backwards and the lid came off the ashes and he dropped them everywhere throughout the flight cabin. He said he was laughing his head off as he looked around and saw most of the cabin in a plume of his mates ashes.

Of course he said his mate would have thought this was the best possible outcome, bugger the beach this was piss funny. We all stood there at the check in counter wetting ourselves laughing and crying at the same time. There was a huge queue of people waiting and none of us seemed to care, we were relishing in his story of his true friend and mate and the glory of life and death.

WHEN YOUR PANTS BEGIN TO GO

WHEN you wear a cloudy collar and a shirt that isn’t white,
And you cannot sleep for thinking how you’ll reach to-morrow night,
You may be a man of sorrows, and on speaking terms with Care,
But as yet you’re unacquainted with the Demon of Despair;
For I rather think that nothing heaps the trouble of your mind
Like the knowledge that your trousers badly need a patch behind.

I have noticed when misfortune strikes the hero of the play
That his clothes are worn and tattered in a most unlikely way;
And the gods applaud and cheer him while he whines and loafs around,
And they never seem to notice that his pants are mostly sound;
But, of course, he cannot help it, for our mirth would mock his care,
If the ceiling of his trousers showed patches of repair.

You are none the less a hero if you elevate your chin
When you feel the pavement wearing through the leather, sock, and skin;
You are rather more heroic than are ordinary folk
If you scorn to fish for pity under cover of a joke;
You will face the doubtful glances of the people that you know;
But – of course, you’re bound to face them when your pants begin to go.

If, when flush, you took your pleasures – failed to make a god of Pelf,
Some will say that for your troubles you can only thank yourself;
Some will swear you’ll die a beggar, but you only laugh at that
While your garments hang together and you wear a decent hat;
You may laugh at their predictions while your soles are wearing through,
But – a man’s an awful coward when his pants are going too.

Though the present and the future may be anything but bright,
It is best to tell the fellows that you’re getting on all right.
And a man prefers to say it – ‘tis a manly lie to tell,
For the folks may be persuaded that you’re doing very well;
But it’s hard to be a hero, and it’s hard to wear a grin,
When your most important garment is in places very thin.

Get some sympathy and comfort from the chum who knows you best,
That your sorrows won’t run over in the presence of the rest;
There’s a chum that you can go to when you feel inclined to whine;
He’ll declare your coat is tidy, and he’ll say: “Just look at mine!”
Though you may be patched all over he will say it doesn’t show,
And he’ll swear it can’t be noticed when your pants begin to go.

Brother mine, and of misfortune! times are hard, but do not fret,
Keep your courage up and struggle, and we’ll laugh at these things yet.
Though there is no corn in Egypt, surely Africa has some-
Keep your smile in working order for the better days to come!
We shall often laugh together at the hard times that we know,
And get measured by the tailor when our pants begin to go.
Now the lady of refinement, in the lap of comfort rocked,
Chancing on these rugged verses, will pretend that she is shocked.
Leave her to her smelling – bottle; ‘tis the wealthy who decide
That the world should hide its patches ‘ neath the cruel cloak of pride;
And I think there’s something noble, and I’ll swear there’s nothing low,
In the pride of Human Nature when its pants begin to go.

Henry Lawson (1892)

From: Henry Lawson Collected Verse – Volume One 1885-1900

God I Wish Paul Keating Would Fuck Off.

God I wish Paul Keating would fuck off. I mean that with total sincerity. To know me is to know I can’t dare keep my opinions to myself. Not for want of trying sometimes, but I really can’t help myself and so it would seem neither can ye olde Paul. When I had just left school I was thrown into the world with two dresses, a pair of Dr. Martin knock offs and a mattress. That was about it really. I went out into “the recession we had to have” thanks to Paul Keating.

Over the years he was in power it was as life would have it for me the worst years financially for anyone who was on Struggle Street to be involved in. I recall going to what was known back then as the CES the Commonwealth Employment Agency as it was referred to try and get a job. For those of you too young to know the system was a little easier to navigate back then. You were unemployed you rocked up to the CES you walked in they had partition boards up with job cards on them listing what jobs were available. You would choose what you thought might suit you head to the desk clerk who was a retard on crack and try and get them to send you to the employer for an interview which they would arrange. It was hell, but it was the only way to put food on the table for those with no experience and no qualifications. So it was there I found I hated Paul Keating.

I spent many days waiting for even a job card to be posted and when it was there was a score of out of work factory workers who had been laid off also waiting for work. They sneered at me whenever I got up to get the details. Eventually we all got a few days work packing lamingtons at the Top Taste factory in Meadowbank. I couldn’t believe my luck, cake and money. As I worked with these people I got to know how hard my life was going to be if I didn’t soon get a decent job with decent money. Thankfully I did but only through the skin of my teeth and a 50c jacket I got from St Vincent De Paul, god love em. It was never through Paul Keating, the bastard gave me nothing. Now it would seem when we have put him and his ethics to bed he just keeps bubbling back up for more. One minute banging on about World War 1 and Gallipoli being an Imperial War we should not be proud of because it had nothing to do with defending the bounds of Australia and now he won’t sign an item for a charity auction. Cheap skate cunt that he is.

So like Gough who had his arse kicked out of Australian politics and got the sack he is like a disgruntled school kid who had his lollipop licked and wont let anyone forget it. The fact is Paul you got into the job of PM through default, Hawkie left you got the gig and we had to suffer you. Gough got the arse and thinks he is some kind of folk hero. The fact is the Labour Party has turned a new corner, they realise the likes of the “larrikin” and trade union are no longer something intelligent thinking young Australians want for their future and if they try and bung it on they will get the arse. The bottom line is old pollies should keep their noses out of current affairs and go and hop on an ice berg and float themselves out to sea. So to Gough, I’ve been sacked before, I got over it, perhaps you should give up the ghost of Prime Minster past and to Paul, you are pompous arse wipe with a fancy hair cut. Enough said.

I love display homes and I just cant help it

God I love a display home. I just can’t help it. Ever since I was a kid I have loved a display home or in those days it was called an exhibition home. Due to the fact as kids we didn’t have a pot to piss in a Saturday afternoon of entertainment for us was to go to the local display home village on the outskirts of Sydney and dream away the hot sultry summer licking our way through a nice Mr Whippy ice cream from the Green sleeves van. Ahhh those were the days. Of course we would all say we would one day get one of those “display” homes when we won the lottery, which we never did. So home we would trot to the sealed in heat of our fibro home. What a total waste of human life fibro has been. Not only was it the worst type of material to build a home from due to the fact that the floor never seemed to meet the walls hence letting in the elements but plenty of good hard working blue collar men have died as a result of asbestos related dust disease from putting the shit together. So it may be this weekend that I venture to the display village to dream of my five bedroom home complete with four bathrooms, rumpus room, powder room, guest quarters, home theatrette and my favourite buzz phrase, “the parents retreat”. What ever the fuck that is. All I know is that when I win the lottery I’m gunna get me one of those dang things but preferably in a suburb where there is some degree of social order and a corner shop that sells wizz fizz.