When I found them they were huddled together like Vaalies on a beach. Oh, wait! They WERE Vaalies on a beach. I should have taken a picture of Brauer’s beach outfit: A double-padded fluffy anorak. Sort of a Tshwane Tshpeedo. And a hoed. We soon scurried off the dreaded sand in search of lunch. InContinue reading “Sheffield Beach Tribal Gathering”
I was reading about 1966 – when the Beatles got blasé and the British pop music invasion of the USA waned. Yankee marketers stepped in: Pop abhors a vacuum, and just as the originals (The Beatles) ‘disappeared’, a full-page ad in Billboard promoted a ‘different sounding new group with a live, infectious feeling demonstrated byContinue reading “1966 and all that”
. . . he’s our brother . . . . . and look at him now!
Back in 2005 our kids were quietly acquiring wisdom and knowledge (and singing and dancing skills) from an impeccable source – me – when they received a setback: A weekend visit from the Brauer at 10 Windsor Avenue. Old Pete visited. Luckily with Terry. The bribery started immediately: It took effect: Precariously, reluctantly, ominously (moreContinue reading “Childhood Trauma”
I don’t do DIY. I was going to say except for our wedding, but on reflection, I also did that the way I do everything: Stand back and watch as others do it all, encouraging and applauding while trying to save money. What I did do was buy the booze and fill Mike Lello’s IsuzuContinue reading “DIY Bush Wedding”
It’s what one expects: Invite Brauer to a small gathering unaccompanied, and . . I had to tell Terry, the good wife: ~~~oo0oo~~~
Aitch doesn’t mess around. Suddenly a big marquee was pitched on the front lawn. What’s that for? I ask. We’re having a party, says me wife. Oh. OK. So tip-toe’ing discreetly past my half century mark is not going to happen? Nope. So I help the guys lay down a dance floor; and I carryContinue reading “50. That’s fifty. Five zero. FIFTY! Eish!”