Thursday, 20 May 2010

True stories from the inner back

I have chosen this title because where we live and places like it can't really be called the Outback! It could be thought of as Tales from the Urban Fringe, but that sounds like an Art Festival.

Tale 1

One night recently Frances and I were sitting in our sun-room having a cleansing glass or two of red and watching the light fade. The small dog was with us (but not having any red). Shortly after it had completely faded – say 5:40pm - there came what sounded like a VERY loud knock on the back door.

Small dog goes ballistic. I scuttled off to see who was knocking. No-one visible. So I checked various other doors and go out with the spotlight and can't find anyone.

Frances and I agree that this is most strange and puzzle about it for a while. Small dog goes back to sleep. After a while we go back to the lounge, where there is a nice warm fire. In passing Frances notices that her palette has fallen off her art-cart and the two halves have separated. This would have caused the 'knock – knock noise'. We relax, and the small dog stays asleep.

Tale 2

Some friends were heading to bed about 11pm when the husband realized a car was coming up their drive. It then blasted the horn a few times.

Husband goes out to remonstrate with this invader and rushes back indoors to tell his wife that the car driver claims he has a broken back!! Ambulance is called as the driver does seem to be in a bad way, having spasms and fading in and out of consciousness. The car is also not in good nick as it has a front tyre that has rolled off the rim - apparently as a result of whacking a wombat.

It emerges the driver broke his back some time back and the shock from the wombat incident has redone it. He had been having a few drinks with some mates before driving home. As usual the Ambulance dispatch service (in Wollongong, some hundreds of kilometres away) has trouble working out where to send their truck. That gets sorted and about midnight the ambos arrive, load in the afflicted driver and depart.

Our friends head back to bed about 12:30am.

About 2am Mr Plod turns up and works out that the car is not exactly in full compliance with various laws and says "Hrumph hrumph". Our friends get back to bed shortly thereafter.

The next day:

  • following the trail of marks from a naked rim it appears the incident occurred about 6km from our friends house; and
  • the driver fronts with his dad to say 'Thanks' and to arrange to come back with a trailer to remove the car!
Things like this rarely happen in the Big City!

(As an incidental comment, this is the first time I have managed to publish a post using the Publish Blog stream of blather in Microsoft Office!)

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