|
Sports |
IT’S that unmentionable day of the week again, the one we re-named
Chooseday. Last week, we gave a list of possible extravagance Mrs PNG
might contemplate on this day, when everyone has free choice to do as
they wish.
***
TODAY it’s the turn of the Man of the House, a hollow phrase once packed
with sinister meaning. He might consider going fishing rather than
trudging to work; he could haunt the bookies and pursue the elusive
country races in Oz; he could insist on a six-pack for breakfast, or a
game of snooker with the boys … the divorce courts are just down the road
sir, second on the right.
***
YET another call from Madang’s Ancient Scribbler, Spy. Wandering along
the road in the centre of town,
no doubt on his way to some unmentionable club or other, the old boy
noticed sundry announcements and home made posters adorning the paling
fence
surrounding what was once a well-known waterfront drinking hole.
***
THE posters urged the citizenry to avail themselves of a psychic cum
holistic healer cum sage and general prober into the unknown. Do you
suppose if we were to send the renowned vintage Column One Crystal Ball
across to Spy, this resident mystic would give it a spring clean? The
Melbourne Cup may be some way off yet, but the elections are much nearer
...
***
ONE of our pre-teen grandsons has been mightily encouraged by his Papa to
excel at the greatest game of all. Dean is now a chunky threat to all and
sundry in his age division, with a mean eye and a fast improving boot.
Selected for a higher grade recently, Papa was
overjoyed, and gave the solid youngster a playful celebratory tackle.
***
VISITING hours are in the evening, we understand. Well, not quite – but
Paps is now resting a damaged hamstring and wondering when he can get
back to his beloved touch footy. And our grandson is uncertain whether to
be triumphant or apologetic ...
***
OUR Percy Chatterton Quiz has ended, and we’ll bring you the results
towards the end of the week, plus a new question to baffle your early
morning mental
arrangements. Cheers!
***
– Dee Nesenolis
|