Tuesday, 28th August, 1979: Lord Mountbatten Has Been Assassinated!

We awoke and noted that the rain of yesterday had ceased, however, the sky remained overcast. After breakfast we began to prune those branches from the yard of a neighbour, that have been overhanging the roof of our house and its guttering.

Nevertheless, we curtailed our efforts when it began to rain, again, at twenty past ten.

At a quarter to eleven, we departed to shop at Miranda Fair. After I had parked the car on the centre’s roof, we purchased another litre of Wattyl’s ‘Red Cedar’, in Myer. Next, we visited Nock & Kirby to buy a small paintbrush, followed by a litre of ‘Castle’ mineral turps from Woolworths.

There seemed to be a plethora of unruly children in the crowded shopping centre. Disco music, blared from a loudspeaker above the centre’s main stage as young women, in tight jeans and equally tight singlets, gyrated to it.

As we hadn’t had either the radio or the television on at breakfast, it came as quite a shock to read on the front page of ‘The Sun’ that a cousin of Queen Elizabeth II, Earl, Lord Louis Mountbatten, had fallen victim to the Irish Republican Army at the age of seventy-nine.

A bomb, that reportedly weighed some twenty-five kilogrammes, was apparently planted aboard the small boat that not only contained Lord Mountbatten, but his grandson of just fourteen years. Situated off the Irish coast, the extremely powerful blast is believed to have been triggered via a device that would respond to a signal from a remote control.

Fifteen British soldiers were also killed, yesterday, in a separate incident, when a huge landmine exploded near to Ulster’s border with Eire.

We ate lunch in front of Channel 9’s ‘The Mike Walsh Show’, with its principal guest ironically being the British actor, Reg Varney. The last half an hour of the programme featured a tribute to Lord Mountbatten. Once this had concluded a representative of ‘Freedom For Ulster’, or some such cause, inflammatorily stated that the Lord’s death was no reason for people to become emotional.

I remember having watched a documentary on Lord Mountbatten’s life, that was screened some years ago, over a period of several weeks, and included his term as Britain’s Viceroy to India. Speaking purely for myself, and not professing to know the background as to what has perpetuated the violence between Britain and Ireland and/or why it was deemed necessary that he should be killed, I formed the opinion that he was an impressive figure.

I spent much of this afternoon painting the ceiling in our bathroom a somewhat lighter shade of ‘Tusk Ivory’, for the paint had been in our garage for the past two years. When I experienced difficulty in reaching the area above the hand basin, as well as the bath, itself, I called out to Tiki to come and hold the ladder for me. She’d been watching an edition of the American series, ‘F.B.I.’ on Channel TEN — it was previously shown on the A.B.C.’s Channel 2– and features the actor, Efrem Zimbalist Jr., who rose to fame about a decade ago in another series, ’77 Sunset Strip’.

I made the mistake of giving Tiki both the roller and the brush to wash in mineral turps, only to then find her completing this process by resorting to the usage of water.

We watched ‘Here’s Lucy’ between five o’clock and half past the hour, prior to then passing the next thirty minutes by viewing an edition of ‘Family Feud’ which is compered by the short, in stature, Tony Barber, whom we find to be an irritation, at best! Channel TEN’s news was viewed between six and seven o’clock and was co-read by Katrina Lee and John Bailey.

Channel 7’s ‘Willesee At Seven’ also focuses upon the assassination of Lord Mountbatten and features excepts from the British series, ‘This Is Your Life’, which contains tributes to him from such stars as Jackie Coogan, Bob Hope and Danny Kaye.

At half past seven we turned to Channel 2 to watch two British comedies, ‘It Ain’t Half Hot, Mum’ and ‘Bless This House’. The latter features the late actor, Sid James, whom, I believe was born in South Africa, but don’t quote me.

Remaining on the A.B.C., we watched the penultimate instalment of the Australian serial, ’20 Good Years’. It is set in 1974, on this occasion and its cast includes Harold Hopkins and Anne Pendlebury.

I retired to bed at a quarter to ten, while Tiki chose to watch an offering from Channel TEN’s American series, ‘Dallas’, whose cast includes Larry ‘I Dream Of Jeannie’ Hagman and Jim ‘Rescue 8’ Davis.

However, I was to unintentionally remain awake until Tiki joined me, at half past ten.

‘Runaways’

When we were young, our father decided to purchase two young kelpies, with the intention of training them to be sheepdogs. He certainly didn’t possess the patience nor, in hindsight, the expertise, either.

Therefore, it wasn’t long before he was throwing stones at them, in fits of rage.

This led to my younger sister and I taking it upon ourselves to display our pity for them by showing all of the love and affection we could muster. Something that was also to displease our father.

Some months later we arrived home from school, only to learn that we could not find the dogs anywhere and received the news from our parents that they had, indeed, taken it upon themselves to run away!

Not only were we brokenhearted, we found it to be incredulous that two animals that had loved us so dearly could have taken it upon themselves to suddenly depart from our lives.

Years later, Mum confided in us that our father had, indeed, taken it upon himself to convey the pair to one end of our farm, where he had proceeded to shoot them. Prior to burying their carcasses.

Starvation Looms!

Tiki recently located my hidden fifty dollar notes. I receive twenty-five dollars per week, paid fortnightly, in exchange for completing certain household chores. Such a discovery led her to believe that she needed to also know my betting account’s pin number in order to know just how much was in that, too!

I replied, without thinking, “You’re not getting that! The only way you’ll get my pin number is to starve me!”

“Ooh! That sounds like a good idea. I hadn’t thought of that!”

‘Wealthy’ Wife!

We were on our diurnal walk last year when I sneezed twice or thrice in quick succession.

This prompted me to remark to Tiki, “I would like a dollar for every time I’ve sneezed this year!”

“I’d like a dollar for every time you’ve said that!”, Tiki retorted.