22 Dec 2007 9:09 PM

M any a wish this Season's expressed
E ach by it's maker so sweetly caressed
R ich are you with friends so dear
R ejoice although they cannot be near
Y ou all show how we each are blest.

C arols & hymns & choking flies
H eat haze, fires & sweet mince pies
R oast pork & cricket under the sun
I made a hundred in the back yards at Mum's!
S haring, caring, presents to give
T hink of the Christ - a new life to live;
M emories of Christmas - warm! - how so?
A ustralia - so different, without any snow!
S aviour, children,friends - here & gone,
    Memories to hold this Christmas morn.

Hope the man in red knows how good you've all been this year.

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18 Dec 2007 9:50 PM

The males in here (not in the majority, are we?) will empathize with me on this one, I'm sure. 
Remember around 1958 Fess Parker was a hit on the big screen?
(well, small screens were as common as aforementioned males!)
And what was Fess' character's - Davey Crockett - iconic headwear?
Yep - a coonskin cap!

Now though we, as a family never went without,
we also never much went with,
& for the past 50 years I have always held against my Mum
the fact I never had a
    Coonskin cap.

In Oz it is very difficult to make one from road kill,
as the weight of a kangaroo tail pulls the hat off one's head; 
platypus look downright silly,
Koala - well, no tail!,
& Echidna?  OUCH!!!

Thus it was a most surprised Oth that today opened a parcel posted "somewhere
in US of A", and found? You guessed it!! Marvelous - big, big grin material,
but a size "S", ????
the note  accompanying it reading "for the little boy in you".

Still, if the cap fits? "You can take the man out of  ...... " etc
But scratch a little & you'll find the boy; & who needs to be a man?

yes, I know I look like Harpo Marx, but I don't care!!!

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16 Dec 2007 10:48 PM

A farmer is a bloke who can spot a fly-blown sheep in a mob of a thousand at 50 yards, yet cannot see a pot plant wither & die in front of his eyes.

He can remember to put the rams in with the ewes on the morning of 23rd April, the same day that Joe Bloggs got 1400 cents for  his 19 micron fleece wool sold through Elders, yet he can't remember his wife's birthday - nor even his own!
He also distinctly remembers positively closing that gate before the sheep got mixed up

He can spot an old wheat bag lying in a ditch as he belts along at 60 mph,  yet cannot see a pair of dirty socks on the bathroom floor.

He will notice a stalk of wild oat in a wheat crop of 50 acres, but fails to observe his wife has changed her hair colouring from greyish to red.

He can remember good years & bad years exactly - going waaay back, but don't ask him to remember to post some mail.

He can see a shearer nick a sheep while he's classing, penning up, skirting or rolling, but could miss the top step of the shed at knock-off time.

He can work for two days straight on the tractor, but nod off in the middle of the
Melbourne Cup or when the murderer is about to strike in a tv show.

When asked, begged & pleaded to help prune the garden, he arrives with
the chainsaw & ute.

You can insult anyone, anywhere, anytime, but never his wool, his stock & certainly never his dogs, housed in Barkingham Palace.

His motto is "If you can't pay for it you can't have it,
and if you can't eat it, why grow it?"

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15 Dec 2007 11:28 PM

Christmas! - Flies, fires & farm tasks.

The patchy rain over the past 8 weeks provided an opportunity, albeit poor,
to make some hay - normally the grass if thick & 2 & a half feet high,
this sorry sight was patchy, dry & a foot high!
But beggars can't .............,
so Mrs.Oth's bachelor brother - he of the 6,000 acres & never  been kissed
(cross my palm with silver & perhaps a phone number may drop )
slashed it yesterday; today my challenge is to rake it into lines so the baler
can pick it up & produce a round bale - his NEW rake! - hasn't he read my blogs?

Well it worked !  (see pics in profile) so then the baler trundles into action, & by
mid-afternoon, 37 bales ; 95 from the same area 3 years ago - we persevere.

So incident free, nothing bloggable, thus I return to our previous hay session, where, once the bales are stable, Andrew (No 1 son) on tractor,
& Oth in Rodeo Ute (to our US cousins, a GM pick-up) work as a team
Andrew spiking & loading, Oth transporting.
On the way across the paddock I spotted some loose baling twine, which can play havoc with a cows digestion if eaten (& they do!)

Remembering a scene from "Lives of a Bengal Lancer",
wherein Gary Cooper picked up a ring on the ground from horseback,
I endeavoured to emulate this feat.
Leaning from the cab, with one hand steering,
I bent to grab aforesaid twine.
At this point the term "boofhead" comes into play, as the weight transfer
seemed to create a different scenario to Mr Cooper's-
with the grace that would make an Olympic gymnast envious,
I performed a perfect (sideways) forward roll!

Now the ute, being diesel , cared not whether someone depressed the throttle,
& even less that there was no-one steering!
Just trundled along toward the tractor...........
I, after a tentative stretch, to ensure nothing was bent , bruised nor broken,
had to hare across the paddock in pursuit of ute!

Fortunately the door was still open, so I was able to jump in
& engage neutral, before the ute found out it would come off
second best in a fight with a tractor.
Andrew was oblivious to any of this, perhaps a good thing!

And the twine? - can't rightly remember!

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3 Dec 2007 5:15 PM

Unsure of the author, but worth sharing - I hope


Dear sir I write this note to you to tell you of me plight,
For at the time of writing it, I'm not a pretty sight,
Me body is all black & blue, me face a deathly grey,
And I write this note to say why I am not at work today.
While working on the 14th floor some bricks I had to clear,
But tossing them down from such a height, was not a good idea,
The foreman wasn't very pleased, he is an awkward sod,
and he said I had to cart them down the ladders in me hod.

Well clearing all these bricks by hand, it was so very slow,
So I hoisted up a barrel and secured a rope below.
But in me haste to do the job, I was too blind to see,
That a barrel full of building bricks was heavier than me.
And so when I untied the rope, the barrel fell like lead,
And clinging tightly to the rope, I started up instead.
I shot up like a rocket, and to my dismay I found
That halfway up I met the bloody barrel coming down.

Well, the barrel broke me shoulder as to the ground it sped,
And when I reached the top, I banged the pulley with me head.
But I clung on tightly, numb with shock, from this almighty blow,
While the barrel spilled out half its bricks some fourteen floors below.
Now when these bricks had fallen from the barrel to the floor,
I then outweighed the barrel & so started down once more.
But I clung on tightly to the rope, me body wracked with pain,
And halfway down I met the bloody barrel once again.
The force of this collision halfway down the office block,
Caused multiple abrasions and a nasty case of shock,
But I clung on tightly to the rope as I fell towards the ground,
And I landed on the broken bricks the barrel had scattered round.

Well as I lay there on the floor I thought I'd passed the worst,
But the barrel hit the pulley wheel & then the bottom burst.
A shower of bricks rained down on me; I didn't have a hope.
As I lay there bleeding on the ground I let go the bloody rope.
The barrel now being heavier, it started down once more.
It landed right across me as I lay there on the floor.
It broke three ribs and my left arm, and I can only say,
"I hope you'll understand why I am not at work today."

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