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The ultimate birthday gift

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This story requires a little background information and a somewhat circuitous explanation.
It will come as no surprise to readers of my bloggery that I have had a certain academic interest in the career of one Ms Elle MacPherson.

It all began 25 years ago, when (regurgitating an extract from my blogging discussion of another topic);

" And if I dig really really deeply into my television watching memory bank I can recall a 19 year old Elle Macpherson strutting her thinly veiled magnificence along the beach.  It was a performance destined to take her to supermodeldom, and cause old men, young men and some very naughty boys to dream of things that had nothing to do with the product she was advertising."

No, lets call a spade a shovel, and admit that occasionally my interest has deviated from the academic, and perhaps may have even, despite my Methodist upbringing, nudged the boundaries of erotic fantasy.

I have discovered the reason for my puerile behaviour.
It was all Mrs GOF's fault.
I was too obsessed with work matters at one time, and in my pre-midlife she suggested I needed a hobby.  It was difficult to generate enthusiasm for collecting stamps, matchboxes or souvenir teaspoons.  Thus began the collection of Elle MacPherson pictures, calendars and memorabilia, acquired with such zeal and enthusiasm, that, had I shown an equivalent amount of devotion towards my business interests, I would probably now be a very rich man.

And so it came to pass that I should receive the ultimate birthday gift last week.  Daughter Globet strode across the arrivals lobby at Cairns airport and presented me a glossy document with a picture of a beautiful 44 year old Elle MacPherson on it, and emblazoned to one side were the words;

"TAKE ME, I'M YOURS"

WOOHOO!!!! after waiting 25 years for Elle to visit me, or at least telephone me in acknowledgement of my long term devotion to her, I was finally in receipt of her ultimate instruction.

I was not immediately certain how the transaction was to be completed……whether this was a voucher to be redeemed upon presentation, or more a "lay-by" arrangement for a future date.
Nevertheless GOF's happiness at that moment knew no bounds.

Extreme happiness is inevitably a relatively short term condition.  Some episodes shorter than others.  Preceding my instructions for eternal bliss was also some fairly compelling written evidence that the document in my hand was the VirginBlue Inflight Magazine.

A couple of confessions.  Firstly, over the years, I have delighted in exaggerating the extent of my Elle collection to deliberately fuel the fires-of-scorn heaped upon me from female friends who were convinced my deviate behaviour would lead my marriage into ruin. Thank you to Mrs GOF for being complicit in these winding-up-people operations.  And no, for those who have enquired, I sadly do not have 2736 Elle pictures.

Confession number 2;
The real reason for my airport happiness,( and this whole smokescreen of storytelling), was that Globet had chosen, (in deliberate contravention of my specific instructions and Fatherly logical advice) to travel all the way across this great land to be with me for my birthday.

Some offspring earn a level of parental love, affection and respect far beyond their genetic entitlements, simply through the honorable way in which they conduct their lives, and treat other humans.

Thank you, my dear Globet for caring. 

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About GOF

"Life is like a sewer. What you get out of it, depends upon what you put into it." (Tom Lehrer)

4 responses »

  1. I've endured 7 hours stuffed into an airborne tin can, sunburn,

    Reply
  2. Mr FD asked for Elle a few Christmases past – Santa didn't hear…

    Reply
  3. Suffering is character building.

    Reply
  4. A little like the yak…..he probably got over it in time.

    Reply

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