I firstly heard of the death of crooner, Bing Crosby, via the news broadcast this morning at half past eight. At the age of seventy-three, he had reportedly collapsed on a golf course in Madrid, whilst playing with three Spanish professionals.
In this same bulletin, it was stated that Mount Everest’s conqueror, Sir Edmund Hillary, had been taken seriously ill at a height of some five thousand metres in the Himalayas. Inclement weather is preventing his retrieval by means of a helicopter. Sir Edmund, a New Zealander, is fifty-seven years of age.
Before Tiki and I set out to walk to Miranda Fair, in drizzle, I weighed myself for the first time in ages. It surprised me when the needle pointed to just eleven stone, two pounds. In Myer, Tiki stood in a queue for twenty minutes to pay six dollars and thirty cents for a dark blue cardigan. A discount of ten per cent had reduced its price from seven dollars.
We walked home by way of Gymea, in conditions that bore high humidity. Having changed our clothes we headed for town. I parked in the parking station on Kent Street, at the rear of the Hoyts Cinema Centre, and paid three dollars and twenty-five cents for each of us to see “Rocky”, which was voted to be the best film of 1976. Its script was written by its principal actor, Sylvester Stallone.
A documentary on Mount Warning and Surfers Paradise was followed by an unimpressive cartoon which featured two blue anteaters. During intermission, we each devoured a packet of crisps.
At a quarter to five we crossed Kent Street in the rain and I drove onwards to Manly. As we were entering a marked lane on the Harbour Bridge, a light blue Holden sedan attempted to push up on the inside of our car and its driver had to brake suddenly. The vehicle could have easily skidded into us in the wet conditions. At least the young couple, with children, recognised who had been at fault.
As we crossed the Spit Bridge, it was mentioned on the “2UW News” that the grey, “Ming Dynasty”, at the odds of nine to one against, had won the one hundredth running of the Caulfield Cup from “Unaware” and “Salamander”. The winner is trained by J.B. (Bart) Cummings and was ridden by the New Zealand jockey, ‘Midge’ Didham.
I parked in the asphalt car park on Wentworth Street, facing the old buildings at its eastern end. Upon our entry to K’s Snapper Inn we were shown to the same table, in the rear section of the restaurant, which we had occupied just a few weeks ago. Tiki ordered a seafood cocktail for entree, followed by curried scallops and, for dessert, pavlova and ice-cream. My meal consisted of scallops kebab, a king prawn salad and the identical dessert to her. We drank two glasses of lemon squash each and concluded with a cup of cappuccino. The total bill for the three-course dinner came to twenty dollars and eighty cents.
At Tiki’s request, I drove to Tania Park on Dobroyd Point to look out through the rain at the lights. Ours was the only car there and when another containing four youths stopped suspiciously before slowly moving by, we agreed that we should drive on, just in case it were to reappear.
This time, I drove to Edgecliffe Esplanade, in Seaforth and we peered out over The Spit. We departed for home at eight o’clock and found that the city’s southern suburbs were bone dry. Fifty minutes later, we were in a position to watch the greater part of the British film, “Doctor In Trouble”, from the year of 1970. It stars Leslie Phillips and Harry Secombe.