Category: Reminiscences

We were on our daily walk when we met an octogenarian, whom we had not seen for quite some time. During the conversation that ensued, she made mention of the two houses that were being built near to her own abode and enlightened us that the respective occupants-to-be were most dissatisfied in the standard of their construction.

She went on to outline of how some years prior to that she, herself, had employed two builders to install some new editions to her existing bathroom, only to be told by the pair that they would have to remove all of the tiles from its walls in order to locate its studs.

However, it was then that she produced her old rule of eighteen inches and rightly assured them that each stud was that length apart when measured from a specified corner of the room.

Upon hearing this, I couldn’t help but quip, “It really is an honour to meet a woman who knows exactly where her studs are!”.

While the elderly lady remained straight-faced, an unsuspecting Tiki, laughed heartily.

Earlier this year we drove north to one of our favourite destinations, Port Stephens.

There is no denying that the scenery around Nelson Bay, is glorious and the area’s beaches appear pristine, however, we found its roads – especially the secondary ones – were literally a minefield. We had planned to stay in the more relaxed hamlet of Lemon Tree Passage and make daily excursions to other destinations in the region, however, the road, especially on the inward journey, was in such a state of disrepair that we soon quashed that idea.

We walked our dog on three beaches, our favourite being Birubi because of its firm sand and its sheer length. One Mile Beach was another to impress us. A footpath leads one on a walk from the waterfront in Nelson Bay to and beyond Dutchman’s Beach. It was near here that we sighted dolphins just off a nearby rocky point. Our walk also passed a number of dead and dying mature trees. A plethora of nearby signs asserted that they had been poisoned and/or irreparably vandalised.

During an earlier visit, we had enjoyed the expansive views afforded from Port Stephens’ Tomaree Lookout. One can reduce one’s assent by driving to the carpark, which is not far below its summit.

I really enjoyed the meals I partook of at ‘Cafe on the Bay’, in the heart of Nelson Bay itself. As we were making our way there we happened to pass a store with a small blackboard set up on the edge of the footpath. Written upon it was the following:

‘Why didn’t the toilet paper cross the road?

Because it got stuck in a crack!’

It must have been two years ago when I was in our local supermarket and about to reach for a copy of ‘The Daily Telegraph’. Suddenly, a breathless, middle-aged woman appeared at my side and inquired, “Do they sell ‘The Sydney Morning Herald’ in here?!”.

“No. This is a classy store!”, I retorted.

It was nearly two years ago, as we were nearing the end of yet another demanding diurnal walk, that I believed I had perceived our elderly dog’s gait had appeared to falter. This led me to comment to Tiki that our adored pet might not survive the forthcoming summer.

“Come to think of it! The way that I feel, I might not survive it either!”, I uttered. “You might be able to package us as a quinella and save on the cost of our respective funerals!”, I continued.

“That’s good! Although now that you’ve mentioned it, I’m beginning to struggle too.”, Tiki admitted.

“This means that we can be buried as a threesome. A trifecta, with the emphasis on us being a ‘boxed’ trifecta!”, I pronounced gleefully.

We’d taken but a few further steps when the stillness of the air was filled with the sound of clapping and laughter. We turned to observe the commotion and were amazed that a gentleman, seated on his second storey balcony, had heard every word we’d spouted.

We were watching television during breakfast, when a female commentator remarked that women who stay married either become a ‘purse’ or a ‘nurse’.

As there is a difference of more than eight years in our ages, this prompted me to turn to Tiki and pronounce, “You’ve struck the jackpot! You’re both a ‘purse’ and a ‘nurse’!”

Today, Saturday, the eighth of March, 2025 marks fifty years since Tiki and I first met on a ferry in Milford Sound, New Zealand.

Should you wish to relive that day with us, my post of that day is titled, ‘The Most Fortuitous Day Of My Life!’.

Some years later Tiki’s mum confessed to her that her adopted brother, on the day of our wedding, had told her that he believed that our marriage would last for no longer than two years. Ironically, it was his very own first marriage that was to end within two to three years of his spiteful prophecy.

My shaky left hand dropped a two-dollar coin on to the supermarket’s shiny, metallic counter and as I attempted to pick it up, I uttered to the young man who’d just handed me my change, “This is hard!”

He smiled and as I was about to leave I turned to him and announced, “Everything’s hard in old age…except for one thing!”

We both laughed.

We were eating lunch when I questioned Tiki as to just what the circular purplish vegetable was. “Taro!”, she replied. “I dug it up from our back garden, but it wasn’t as big as I thought it would be!”.

“It seems I’ve heard a similar comment before!”, I offered with a wry smile.

Some years ago, Tiki announced to me that her nose was ‘running’.

I foolishly quipped, “It’s probably trying to get away from the rest of your face!”

It then took me at least the next fifteen minutes to seemingly convince her that my words were spoken in jest and were uttered only with the desired intention of making her laugh.

It was around the mid-eighties when we made the decision to holiday in Cairns, a regional city in the far north of Queensland.

It was about three days into our stay that we decided to book a diurnal, return journey, aboard a small aeroplane, to Lizard Island. It included transportation to and from the city’s airport. Tiki felt sorry for the couple who were obviously struggling to keep their business viable and, therefore, paid the woman in advance, despite her having stated that there would be time for that upon our return.

Having told Tiki that she and her husband had recently separated and that he, therefore, might not be in a friendly mood, the lady had asked for our shoe sizes, in order that the right sized flippers would accompany us. However, when it came time to don mine to swim out to the reef and observe the truly impressive coral and colourful fish, only my left flipper would fit and even then this had been preceded by quite a struggle.

Nevertheless, I really did not give much thought to the fact that my right foot remained bare, especially as our time in the water was consumed by our observations. However, as we neared the shore’s shallow waters I decided to walk to the beach. My first step managed to find the softest seagrass imaginable, however, my second was immediately inflicted by the most intense pain imaginable and when I lifted my right foot there was an orange barb of some four inches in length protruding from the bottom of its big toe.

Once I realised that the venom was not about to swiftly terminate my life, my instinctive reaction was to immediately extract the barb. However, even this did little to alleviate the agony, although this was almost briefly replaced by the incredulity and sheer disbelief that I experienced when we learned that our host and pilot did not possess a first-aid kit of any kind.

Our belated lunch came and went and then, mercifully, it was time to board our flight to return to Cairns. A woman in our small group had fallen over and grazed her knee. However, she still had empathy for me as the poison injected had already caused my foot to swell and the reddening of the skin was in the process of extending up my leg, almost to the knee. She kindly offered to dab my toe with perfume and although this made no discernible difference to the pain, I felt obliged to state that it had.

Just when we believed that the situation could not worsen, the pilot announced that an emergency had arisen with the aircraft and that he would have to land at the isolated Cow Bay Airfield. We endured a wait of perhaps twenty minutes while our pilot engaged in an animated conversation with the only person there, a gentleman in a four-wheel drive. Finally, an agreement was reached between the pair, that he could borrow the vehicle, and we and our belongings were transferred from the plane to it..

Our host explained that if he could not get us to the Daintree River in time to board the last ferry, at five o’clock, he would have to pay for our night’s accommodation. Obviously, such a scenario would have been a financial incumbrance to the business and, as time was very much on the wing, he drove like a man possessed, with little thought to those of us in his care.

The week that followed meant that I was on a course of antibiotics. The fact that my right foot remained swollen resulted in me hobbling about Cairns and its environs, with a shoe on one foot and a thong on the other.