Check this out.
click on this link to Bert's Sunday Arvo Sports Review. It's one of lifes great priveleges to meet up with someone with near a century's sports success and experience. Bert has many stories to tell, so many stories. Every Sunday there is a new sports review to listen to. Go to www.sonshinefm.ws and click on 'audio on demand' section, and look for the Sunday Arvo Sports Review with Bert.
Stories, so so many stories.
Beev
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Cheater!!
I cheated on her! I know what you're thinking, "another hopeless shallow male with no sense of commitment". You're right.
We'd been togethor for about 3 years. As soon as we met we found we could talk togethor so easily. We just hit it off right from the start. She was so gentle, and was genuinely interested in my life and who I was. They were good times, how could I ever cheat?
Saturday morning, local shopping centre, I had every intention of dropping in to surprise her. And then I did it.... I walked right past her hair salon and straight around the corner into the 'other' hairdresser!!!
I know I could make the excuse that there were 5 other people waiting before me, and that I'd have to sit in the little chairs for 15 minutes, but it doesn't make it right, I know that.
Before I knew it, there I was in the chair of another woman, having her shampoo my hair and me telling her in my cute way "number 2 on the back and sides...blended at the back....yeh leave it a little longer on top, but you'll need the thinning scissors". Cute . CHEATER!
I felt so dirty, but so good, as she put the many years of experience into trimming my locks into shape. (by the way - my tip about hairdressers - always ask for the older hairdressers - they actually know how to cut hair! Don't trust your hair to someone that just got out of junior high)
Wow, she was good. My hair felt clean, and neat. But now I realised that my car was parked right outside the salon of the keeper of my follicles for the last 3 years.
What'll I do? Walk straight past the front of the salon and wave as if nothing has happened? She'd know, she's not stupid. I could walk past on the opposite side of the shops hoping she's to busy to look up...maybe? NO - I had to do the only thing I new was best for both of us.......
I walked out the opposite entrance and the 1.6km's around the whole shopping centre to get back to my car without being caught.
Cheater!
We'd been togethor for about 3 years. As soon as we met we found we could talk togethor so easily. We just hit it off right from the start. She was so gentle, and was genuinely interested in my life and who I was. They were good times, how could I ever cheat?
Saturday morning, local shopping centre, I had every intention of dropping in to surprise her. And then I did it.... I walked right past her hair salon and straight around the corner into the 'other' hairdresser!!!
I know I could make the excuse that there were 5 other people waiting before me, and that I'd have to sit in the little chairs for 15 minutes, but it doesn't make it right, I know that.
Before I knew it, there I was in the chair of another woman, having her shampoo my hair and me telling her in my cute way "number 2 on the back and sides...blended at the back....yeh leave it a little longer on top, but you'll need the thinning scissors". Cute . CHEATER!
I felt so dirty, but so good, as she put the many years of experience into trimming my locks into shape. (by the way - my tip about hairdressers - always ask for the older hairdressers - they actually know how to cut hair! Don't trust your hair to someone that just got out of junior high)
Wow, she was good. My hair felt clean, and neat. But now I realised that my car was parked right outside the salon of the keeper of my follicles for the last 3 years.
What'll I do? Walk straight past the front of the salon and wave as if nothing has happened? She'd know, she's not stupid. I could walk past on the opposite side of the shops hoping she's to busy to look up...maybe? NO - I had to do the only thing I new was best for both of us.......
I walked out the opposite entrance and the 1.6km's around the whole shopping centre to get back to my car without being caught.
Cheater!
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Chalk and cheese...and fruit smoothie!
If you've ever had kids yourself, or had brothers and sisters, you'll understand how different two siblings can be. Same Mum, same dad, how much variance can you have?
Bucketloads!
One short example: number one son is very expressive. You know exactly what he's thinking at any given moment of the day. When he was 3, he used to practice his falls before 'performing' them in front of us. And you certainly know when he's sick. It's like watching one of those silent drama films, but with the sound turned up loud! "Quick, get me to the hospital, I've got an ectopic stomach! I'm dying....dying....dy....."
Number two son, "the shadow", just quitely goes about life, making sure his 'footprint on the earth' is a gentle one. He's the kid parents forget about until they're almost at a their dinner party when they realise there's only 2 of the 3 back seats filled. And you certainly don't know when he's sick.
Take Thursday morning for instance. Normal morning, kids are up, number 1 is eating 5 wheat bix, number 2 is wrapped up in the doona on the couch trying to wake up (just like mum), while number 3 has a discussion with his Bob the Builder about restrictive discipline and its long term effects. I make the kids a fruit smoothie with banana, rockmelon, orange and milk...mmmmm.
All three suck it down at the table, number 2 is told to hurry up and have his cereal. He obeys , and sits down at the table, quiet , staring, contemplative, focussed.... 2 minutes pass, and I wonder what's going on in his mind.
He then calmly regurgitates his fruit smoothie up onto the table!!
No drama, no fuss, little noise!
The only words spoken by number 2 "I think I might be sick?"
Chalk and cheese really...and a lot of fruit smoothie.
Bucketloads!
One short example: number one son is very expressive. You know exactly what he's thinking at any given moment of the day. When he was 3, he used to practice his falls before 'performing' them in front of us. And you certainly know when he's sick. It's like watching one of those silent drama films, but with the sound turned up loud! "Quick, get me to the hospital, I've got an ectopic stomach! I'm dying....dying....dy....."
Number two son, "the shadow", just quitely goes about life, making sure his 'footprint on the earth' is a gentle one. He's the kid parents forget about until they're almost at a their dinner party when they realise there's only 2 of the 3 back seats filled. And you certainly don't know when he's sick.
Take Thursday morning for instance. Normal morning, kids are up, number 1 is eating 5 wheat bix, number 2 is wrapped up in the doona on the couch trying to wake up (just like mum), while number 3 has a discussion with his Bob the Builder about restrictive discipline and its long term effects. I make the kids a fruit smoothie with banana, rockmelon, orange and milk...mmmmm.
All three suck it down at the table, number 2 is told to hurry up and have his cereal. He obeys , and sits down at the table, quiet , staring, contemplative, focussed.... 2 minutes pass, and I wonder what's going on in his mind.
He then calmly regurgitates his fruit smoothie up onto the table!!
No drama, no fuss, little noise!
The only words spoken by number 2 "I think I might be sick?"
Chalk and cheese really...and a lot of fruit smoothie.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Nephilim goes down
I'm going to lay a few bits of the Bible on you. Don't be scared, it's pretty interesting. The first proverb is "pride comes before a fall, the bigger the ego, the harder the fall".
I'm a big healthy farm boy, giant head, big body, strong as an ox. Like Jethro from the Beverley Hillbillies,but without the brill-cream. I hardly ever get sick, and if I do it's over and done with within 24 hours.
I used to joke about being descended from dudes called 'Nephilim'. There's a couple of paragraphs from Genesis and Numbers in the Bible that describe these guys the best.
Genesis 6:4 (The Message)
4 This was back in the days (and also later) when there were giants in the land. The giants came from the union of the sons of God and the daughters of men. These were the mighty men of ancient lore, the famous ones.
Numbers 13:33 (The Message)
Everybody we saw was huge. Why, we even saw the Nephilim giants (the Anak giants come from the Nephilim). Alongside them we felt like grasshoppers. And they looked down on us as if we were grasshoppers."
Combine some out of context Bible verses, a bit of pride, and a long run of healthy fortune, and you've got yourself either a cult that ends up killing itself off with poison. Or a perfect set up for God to have the last laugh.
I'm seeing a pattern. Every 3 to 4 years something comes along that reminds me that maybe I'm not a 'Nehilim'.
In 1988 it was the Lamb Vindaloo/stomach virus combo that cost me 8 days and 8 kilo's.
Then there was multiple ingrown toenail operations of '92.
And who can forget the dislocating shoulders of '97 through '99.
Interspersed of course with the odd cold here and there.
Anywho... I have spent the last year filled with pride, lecturing the 'young guys' at work about having a 'positive mindset', and that if you believe you don't get sick, you won't. And sprouting on like a puffed up pigeon how I only average 1 sick day a year, and that's usually to take care of a sick family member.
Thursday, 2 weeks ago, came the aches...immobilised! I tried to text in sick (to avoid the embarrassment of admitting I wasn't superhuman verbally to someone else). The phone battery died just before hitting send.
Back at work the next day and the following week, but struggling to keep up the image us 'nephilim' and born to bear. A whole ten days later and suddenly I'm sounding like Lee Marvin in 'Paint your wagon' (look it up kids, its a classic), and work told me to stay away! "But, but ... I'm a Nephilim...I don't get sick...guys ...guys"
Luckily, being super human, I progressed quite quickly, my voice changing from Lee Marvin, to Johnny Cash, and back to a respectable Al Pacino.
I'm not giving up on the idea I'm a direct descendant of 'Nephilim'. I mean hey, it doesn't say in the Bible that they didn't get sick?!
I'm a big healthy farm boy, giant head, big body, strong as an ox. Like Jethro from the Beverley Hillbillies,but without the brill-cream. I hardly ever get sick, and if I do it's over and done with within 24 hours.
I used to joke about being descended from dudes called 'Nephilim'. There's a couple of paragraphs from Genesis and Numbers in the Bible that describe these guys the best.
Genesis 6:4 (The Message)
4 This was back in the days (and also later) when there were giants in the land. The giants came from the union of the sons of God and the daughters of men. These were the mighty men of ancient lore, the famous ones.
Numbers 13:33 (The Message)
Everybody we saw was huge. Why, we even saw the Nephilim giants (the Anak giants come from the Nephilim). Alongside them we felt like grasshoppers. And they looked down on us as if we were grasshoppers."
Combine some out of context Bible verses, a bit of pride, and a long run of healthy fortune, and you've got yourself either a cult that ends up killing itself off with poison. Or a perfect set up for God to have the last laugh.
I'm seeing a pattern. Every 3 to 4 years something comes along that reminds me that maybe I'm not a 'Nehilim'.
In 1988 it was the Lamb Vindaloo/stomach virus combo that cost me 8 days and 8 kilo's.
Then there was multiple ingrown toenail operations of '92.
And who can forget the dislocating shoulders of '97 through '99.
Interspersed of course with the odd cold here and there.
Anywho... I have spent the last year filled with pride, lecturing the 'young guys' at work about having a 'positive mindset', and that if you believe you don't get sick, you won't. And sprouting on like a puffed up pigeon how I only average 1 sick day a year, and that's usually to take care of a sick family member.
Thursday, 2 weeks ago, came the aches...immobilised! I tried to text in sick (to avoid the embarrassment of admitting I wasn't superhuman verbally to someone else). The phone battery died just before hitting send.
Back at work the next day and the following week, but struggling to keep up the image us 'nephilim' and born to bear. A whole ten days later and suddenly I'm sounding like Lee Marvin in 'Paint your wagon' (look it up kids, its a classic), and work told me to stay away! "But, but ... I'm a Nephilim...I don't get sick...guys ...guys"
Luckily, being super human, I progressed quite quickly, my voice changing from Lee Marvin, to Johnny Cash, and back to a respectable Al Pacino.
I'm not giving up on the idea I'm a direct descendant of 'Nephilim'. I mean hey, it doesn't say in the Bible that they didn't get sick?!
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Bad Fokker 50, Bad Fokker 50
I'd become one of those guys I despised soooo much. You know the ones, 6am, you're waiting in the airport 'holding stalls', dragging your increasingly heavy luggage , inch by inch, zig-zagging closer to the check in counter. Over the airport PA comes the call "customers booked for flight blah blah to blah blah, your plane is now boarding, please make your way immediately to counter 4 for check in".
I was the 'late guy' who then had to push my way past a hundred people who'd been waiting for ages. "Scuse me...sorry...thanks...oops, I hope that doesn't bleed, I'm sorry". It was then I became telepathic, I could hear their thoughts, loud, in my head! "Son of a _____, what an arrogant ______," and many other things I can't repeat here. Me - straight to the front, checked in within 20 seconds, and running for cover from the flaming arrows being hurled at the back of my large, inconsiderate head.
This flight was to Kalgoorlie. Instead of taking the larger Qantas type jet, I thought I'd save the company money, and go the smaller Fokker 50 type turbo prop. You know the type, the man spins the propellor to kick the engine into life then the pilot winds down the window and hangs his arm out to signal he's turning out onto the runway.
Some may call it Karma, some call it God's sense of humour, but that was the worst take off I have ever experienced in my life! The Fokker fish-tailed its way down the runway, like a 12 year old fish-tails his bmx bike on a gravel track. When we finally broke free of the tarmac, we then went on an eqiuvalent sensation to the 'Wild Mouse' roller coaster, but with better free fall. I tried to appear calm, pretending to read whatever magazine I could grip. The grip was no where as intense as the grip my buttocks had on that seat. You've heard of 'opposable thumbs', I had 'opposable butt cheeks'. For reassurance I looked to the faces of the experienced 'fly in - fly out' tough mining guys, decked out in very safe and bright Hi-Vis clothing. Their faces didn't reassure me! When a guy that has flown in these things 235 times has that 'I really should've stayed in bed look', you worry. After 10 minutes the roller coaster finished - butt cheeks eased - food trolley squeaked its way up the aisle - life back to normal.
For the record, the rest of the flight was great, even the flight back from Kalgoorlie to Perth, 2 days later, was smooth and uneventful ... until....
15 minutes out from Perth, toilet time for Beev. I sauntered in a relaxed but hunched 'John Wayne' fashion down the aisle toward the forward ablution facility. The large jet type plane toilets aren't too bad, the Fokker 50 toilets are a tad more (what's the real estate term for small?) 'cosy and easy care'.
Picture a 6 foot 4 inch man of ample frame inside a 5 foot 9 inch plastic vertical coffin.
I assumed the 'Rainman stance' (Dustin Hoffman -'Rainman' movie), hunched over, head cocked dramatically to one side. Can I point out I didn't mumble "fart, oh-oh, fart" or "I'm an excellent driver", and neither did I have Tom Cruise beside me. Anyway, at this opportune moment, we hit turbulence! Picture a large bug trapped inside a small jar, being shaken around by an inquisitive 4 year old boy. That's as close to what it felt like, as I could imagine.
Plane lands safely - thankyou miss stewardess - walk to terminal - get to car - comfy seat - "I'm an excellent driver" - smooth, flat - I love my wife - bad Fokker 50, bad Fokker 50!
I was the 'late guy' who then had to push my way past a hundred people who'd been waiting for ages. "Scuse me...sorry...thanks...oops, I hope that doesn't bleed, I'm sorry". It was then I became telepathic, I could hear their thoughts, loud, in my head! "Son of a _____, what an arrogant ______," and many other things I can't repeat here. Me - straight to the front, checked in within 20 seconds, and running for cover from the flaming arrows being hurled at the back of my large, inconsiderate head.
This flight was to Kalgoorlie. Instead of taking the larger Qantas type jet, I thought I'd save the company money, and go the smaller Fokker 50 type turbo prop. You know the type, the man spins the propellor to kick the engine into life then the pilot winds down the window and hangs his arm out to signal he's turning out onto the runway.
Some may call it Karma, some call it God's sense of humour, but that was the worst take off I have ever experienced in my life! The Fokker fish-tailed its way down the runway, like a 12 year old fish-tails his bmx bike on a gravel track. When we finally broke free of the tarmac, we then went on an eqiuvalent sensation to the 'Wild Mouse' roller coaster, but with better free fall. I tried to appear calm, pretending to read whatever magazine I could grip. The grip was no where as intense as the grip my buttocks had on that seat. You've heard of 'opposable thumbs', I had 'opposable butt cheeks'. For reassurance I looked to the faces of the experienced 'fly in - fly out' tough mining guys, decked out in very safe and bright Hi-Vis clothing. Their faces didn't reassure me! When a guy that has flown in these things 235 times has that 'I really should've stayed in bed look', you worry. After 10 minutes the roller coaster finished - butt cheeks eased - food trolley squeaked its way up the aisle - life back to normal.
For the record, the rest of the flight was great, even the flight back from Kalgoorlie to Perth, 2 days later, was smooth and uneventful ... until....
15 minutes out from Perth, toilet time for Beev. I sauntered in a relaxed but hunched 'John Wayne' fashion down the aisle toward the forward ablution facility. The large jet type plane toilets aren't too bad, the Fokker 50 toilets are a tad more (what's the real estate term for small?) 'cosy and easy care'.
Picture a 6 foot 4 inch man of ample frame inside a 5 foot 9 inch plastic vertical coffin.
I assumed the 'Rainman stance' (Dustin Hoffman -'Rainman' movie), hunched over, head cocked dramatically to one side. Can I point out I didn't mumble "fart, oh-oh, fart" or "I'm an excellent driver", and neither did I have Tom Cruise beside me. Anyway, at this opportune moment, we hit turbulence! Picture a large bug trapped inside a small jar, being shaken around by an inquisitive 4 year old boy. That's as close to what it felt like, as I could imagine.
Plane lands safely - thankyou miss stewardess - walk to terminal - get to car - comfy seat - "I'm an excellent driver" - smooth, flat - I love my wife - bad Fokker 50, bad Fokker 50!
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
I haven't had stage fright for years! I thought to myself, I've got stuff going around in my head that wants to get out, 'I know - I'll start my own blog, and I can put all my musings and wisdom out into the world and maybe be read by someone oneday this century". Now, here I am, keyboard on my generous lap....... and nothing!
But I promise I'll go away and meditate, and come back with something worth chewing on.
Here's a couple of things you should try, if you haven't already:
try www.limbidgit.blogspot.com (bloody funny, with a cupfull of darkness thrown in)
www.fullmetalsean.blogspot.com .
www.despair.com - this keeps me sane in a crazy world of motivational sales idiocy.
I'll be back, I promise.
Bevan
But I promise I'll go away and meditate, and come back with something worth chewing on.
Here's a couple of things you should try, if you haven't already:
try www.limbidgit.blogspot.com (bloody funny, with a cupfull of darkness thrown in)
www.fullmetalsean.blogspot.com .
www.despair.com - this keeps me sane in a crazy world of motivational sales idiocy.
I'll be back, I promise.
Bevan
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