Fathers' Day yesterday saw our small family of 2+2 get together for a nice BBQ lunch and a few drinkies. Helen bought me a carton of boutique beer of different brands and Martin bought me/us an automatic dust bin. He knows that I like smart gear and although we probably wont use it very much, I must admit that it is very smart indeed. Plugged in and set to auto, the hausfrau merely sweeps dust and dirt towards the machine and it starts up and sucks it in.
I haven't been to the movies for a long time, probably a couple of years. When a callow youth, a bunch of the blokes would head into Fremantle on a Saturday night at the movies at either Hoyts or the Princess Theatre. My mate Don (Happy) Rowe started a little tradition of carefully looking at the credits and noting who the makeup artist for each movie was. None of us had any interest with makeup except that we did notice it on the fairer sex. The lineup of makeup artists included Willy Tuttle, Wally Westmore and Howard Smit. For some reason we were more fond of the name Willy Tuttle and when the credits were rolling we all managed to clap and cheer when Will Tuttle's name appeared.
Can't explain why we carried on about a makeup artist, but there again many of the ideas Happy came up with were off beat. We all loved Hap and he left us around 1972.
Reflecting on those picture show nights, the couple of us who owned motorcycles were easily identified by the black stains on our hands from the perishing rubber handlebar grips and the dull oil stain on the right foot shoe, due to the constant oil leaks on the gear change lever.
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1 comment:
What you mean to say is that you were a 'leathery.'
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