I consider myself no more or less prone to senior moments of forgetfulness than any other living relic of the baby boom.
There have been a couple of incidents which admittedly don’t bode well for the future, such as accusing Mrs GOF of misappropriating my spectacles, only to have it pointed out that they were residing safe and sound just north of my eyebrows where I had put them.
Then there was that other occasion when I forgot to put trousers on before I went off to church, but that, as they all said with a degree of Christian forgiveness and understatement, was no big deal.
The following incident did however send me off to check that my emergency euthanasia stock of Xanax was still where I had hidden it.
(message to self; the ‘hidden’ aspect needs to be urgently reviewed)
I lost a twenty foot long, four inch diameter, heavy duty,
PVC water pipe.
Just before smoko (morning tea) on Christmas eve I extracted, with considerable difficulty, this pipe from amongst all the junk stored in the workshop roof space and placed it on the floor.
Fifteen minutes later, after enjoying my patented concoction of decaffeinated coffee mixed with powdered milk , cooking chocolate and hot water, I returned to find it had disappeared. Poof! Vanished. No more. Absent.
Then I heard what I thought was an aboriginal corroboree going on in a distant corner of GOF’s Empire. There was the haunting ‘didyontheoinking’ sound of a didgeridoo being played. Perhaps the ancient spirits had disapproved of all the naked nymphs cavorting on their land ever since Mrs GOF departed for her PNG holiday. Maybe they only took offence at the seven grossly overweight ones whose frolicking probably caused earthly tremors of such magnitude that they were disrupting the peacefulness of the afterworld. God knows, they certainly were playing havok with my sleep pattern.
Be that as it may, I followed my ears, and discovered…..
Kebba the frigging dawg.
She’d carted my pipe 120 yards down the paddock and discovered along the way that she could play a didgeridoo by shoving her nose into the end and snorting into it.
She was last seen beating down the regrowth and giant brambles and heading south east with the pipe in tow. The nearest neighbour in that direction is 20 miles away, so if you live in Innisfail and discover a $400 dog attached to a $100 pipe would you please kindly return the pipe.
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