Author: ian

“Don’t under exaggerate!” Tiki once instructed me.

“That’s an oxymoron!” I replied.

“What’s an oxymoron? Isn’t it the opposite of a moron?”

“No, That’s Oxy’s brother!” I quipped.

I had just finished assisting Tiki to hang out the washing on our rotary clothesline and had just begun to ascend the steps in our tiered backyard, when she playfully decided to probe my bottom.

As I turned around, I questioned, “Are you auditioning for James Bond’s next film…’Brownfinger’?”

It was the mid-eighties when Tiki and I joined four Europeans in taking it in turns to jump off a rocky cliff into the Mediterranean.

Immediately before this we had searched for a public toilet without success and as anyone knows who has spent time in Greece, the country isn’t exactly known for its trees.

Having relieved myself, as a teenager, in Sydney Harbour without having drawn the attention of others, I believed that I could do likewise on this particular occasion.

How wrong I was!

I stared in horror at the large amber circle that had almost instantly enveloped me, as Tiki made any of the others, who might not have been watching, acutely aware of the situation.

What amazed me was that it did not deter any of the others from continuing to plunge themselves into the sea, at that very point!

I’d spent a restless night, as the two bites on my leg were not only painful, but extremely itchy. It was during our walk into town, that the one near my right ankle began to be irritated by my sock, as I took each step.

This prompted Tiki to suggest that I roll down the sock, however, no sooner had I done so, I was inform that I looked rather ‘silly’ and, therefore, instructed to roll down the other. However, as I bent over to do so, she warned me to be careful not to lose some or all of the coins I had placed in the breast pocket of my loose-fitting knitshirt, otherwise, as she put it, I’d really look ‘stupid’.

Tongue in cheek, I chided her for having used the words silly and stupid in quick succession.

“Well, it was you who once told me to feel free to speak the truth!”, she retorted.

“Yes. But you don’t have to be as truthful, as that!”, I replied through a smile.

When we reached the store, Tiki opted to wait outside, which was just as well for when I went to retrieve the coins from the pocket I learned that I was ten cents shy of the two dollars and fifty cents required to buy the mid-week newspaper. This left me with no choice but to exclaim to the young woman, who had been waiting patiently at the counter for me to step forward, that I was missing ten cents and that I would have to return later.

However, no sooner had I done so than I happened to look down and espy the coin on the floor, virtually at my feet. I was so relieved that no sooner had I called out to her that I had found it than I was at the counter, handing her the money.

It wasn’t until she stood there, baring a bemused facial expression, that the penny finally dropped and I realised that she didn’t know just what I had intend to purchase.

I apologised, of course, and moved to retrieve what I also should have taken to the counter.

“Don’t ever grow old,” I informed her. “It’s unhealthy!”.

The next day, I was bitten, again, as I slept. Despite Tiki having proceeded to duly strip the bed and thoroughly shake each item of bedclothing, no culprit was found.

This led her to enquire of me, “Why are you being bitten and I’m not?!”.

“I’d answer that question, but what I say might incriminate me”, I replied.

Tiki and I had just walked up a relatively short, sharp rise when I exclaimed, “I’m out of puff. I must be getting soft!”

“You’ve been soft for years!”, she retorted.

We were collecting rubbish from the water’s edge when Tiki espied a discarded condom. Being unable to control myself, I commented that it must have belonged to a sperm whale.

My answer to a question on an edition of the British quiz, ‘Tipping Point’, was incorrect for I had offered “Whitby”, as my response to it.

Minutes passed before a contestant was asked to name the national park that is closest to the coastal town of Whitby.

I couldn’t believe my ears and immediately announced to Tiki that I have always maintained that I possess a form of E.S.P., prior to adding, “Extra Sexual Perception!”

“More like ‘Extra Stupid Perception’!”, she retorted.

We were walking down the main street of a rural town when we stopped outside of a cafe to read the message, that had been handwritten in chalk.

It read: ‘Coffee spelled backwards is eeffoc and I don’t give an eeffoc until I have had my coffee!’