Tomorrow, the twentieth day of June 2008 Vest and his darling lady will be celebrating their 55th
Wedding Anniversary. It is expected that, this will be a low key affair as very little info has infiltrated to vests agents from MI,6, Mossad the CIA, KGB or the Mafia with regard to any planned festivity. In the past, costing of an account draining thingy like bringing the family together for any particular reason was borne by yours truly, and hardly likely to be changed during this period of fiscal downturn which will be used as an excuse not to push the boat out or change family tradition; so to speak. That being the case I have decided that our resources will be better used for our own personal indulgence. I expect we shall pop down to the club for a skinful, have a kiss and cuddle and that will be about it, However, if by chance I am able to relate something differing to what is expected, I shall let you know
Below is an account of the celebration five years ago, some names of friends and of all family members have been changed.
Our Golden Wedding anniversary celebrations on 21 June 2003 went well. Mary and I were very pleased. I thought Mary looked very beautiful. She was complimented by most of my former shipmates, who suggested she looked more like my daughter. The dinner was excellent and our friends and relatives were well turned out and very polite to one another. The reason for the niceties was the imposing presence of my ex-naval friends and their partners, who did their level best to be as pleasant as was possible. My good friend, Harry delivered a complimentary speech. Every one enjoyed the good quality dance music. Mary danced with all five sons and every other male person at the party. Our sons were photographed with us displaying happy smiles, although their shaven heads and dark clothing reminded me of the TV family ‘The Sopranos.”
I was quite surprised when Bruce turned up at the club looking quite fit and healthy. Bruce told me he had met his wife, Shirley at the Lady Jane Nudist beach in outer Sydney, where he said she had fallen in love with him at first sight. He said it was a match made in heaven, as Shirley was young and beautiful, owned a logging business in Tasmania, and was ‘stinking rich.’ Bruce told me that he and Shirley had been married nearly eleven years, and had three daughters aged ten, nine and eight. This had apparently kept him celibate six months out of twelve during the first three years of marriage; however, visits to the logging sites to check out the female office staff were always rewarding. He had heard that they referred to him as ‘Mr Whopper’ or ‘Hoss the Boss.’
Bruce told me that he intended to stay a few days, as he was interested in learning a few new dance procedures that Miss Twinkletoes had promised to teach him. If his energy permitted, he would also call on a few other ladies to whom he had been enamoured in the past.
My beautiful Mary put on a sporty smile and introduced Bruce as Mr Bruce Kranski from Tasmania, which raised a few eyebrows and a lot of giggles. After eyeballing our five sons who looked as tough as nails, Bruce told me he would keep a low profile in their presence. Mary later told me Bruce had said something quite explicit but complimentary to her and that his mere presence and past reputation left her weak at the knees. I have not heard from Bruce since our 50th.
George our son stayed to the end of the celebration but his family members left early.
At midnight, the house was filled with family members and friends, but by two o’clock, only relatives remained. This was when Henry and William had a minor disagreement after they had indulged in a smoko session. I would like to mention that all of our sons are on good terms with us, although they are aware I disapprove of some of their goings on. Christopher, our eldest son, is very philosophical about it all. He is dedicated to his computer and his music and enjoys the company of fresh lips rather than long-term involvement with the available ladies. Although Christopher loves his brothers, he objects to the pot smoking.
George’s brothers have described Brother George as a trifle irritating at times, particularly when he constantly explains to all and sundry about the value of his house and land. They say it’s a pity George’s mind doesn’t have the same values, referring to his silly pornographic jokes. Despite everything, however, his brothers have told me they love George as brothers should and would defend him to the end (although Steven, being gay, is not too sure he should say, “I love you, George.”)
Having been divorced twice, George lived with several women in the gaps between his marital disasters, one of whom I had heard was ‘bi lingual!’ George’s current partner, Rachael has stood by him for about nine years. Although I must admit Rachael has had a steadying influence on him, I am not privy to their domestic scenario. The lady in question is now a compulsive non-drinker due to her unsociable tendencies when overcome by alcohol, but her present responsible attitude to her past problem is to be admired. However, it seemed at the time, her brief kiss on the side of my cheek last night was about as welcoming as a bite from a black widow spider. Rachael who was dressed in a stunningly beautiful creation, looked very attractive for her thirty-five years; with her new blonde-by-choice look. Although I would have loved to have told her how beautiful she looked, I was reluctant to tell her so in case of a possible rebuke. Rachael is well supported by George, who is certainly not a slacker and apparently loves his on-site underground sanitary engineering job with the city council.
George is currently at loggerheads with his younger brother, Steven, who after seven years of marriage, two children, and a divorce is now gay. Steven has had several affairs but has settled down to a business-like and friendly partnership with Adrian, who I know to be a very pleasant person from a very nice, supportive family. At first, Mary and I were unhappy about Steven’s decision, but now we are more tolerant and supportive.
Steven’s ex-wife, Marie refused to allow her two children to attend our 50th bash. Since I have known her, I have never been rude to her and have made every attempt to be nice to her. Now, Marie still owes me about $12,000 and still borrows from time to time. Her decision to attend a barbecue party instead of our 50th could have jeopardised our ‘diplomatic friendliness; however, access to our beautiful grandchildren might be at risk if we don’t impose the patriotic art of lying to protect our interests, so I shall continue to be courteous to Marie.
Steven and Adrian sent photographs of themselves dressed up at a gay party to George’s fifteen-year-old daughter, Coral Rose. George was concerned that the photos would corrupt his ‘pure’ daughter. (I thought the photos were harmless and quite modest, as no genital or body parts were on display.)
Beautiful much loved Coral Rose arrived at the reception with her Mentor – none other than Rachael, George’s quite attractive live-in lover. I was permitted to kiss only one cheek so that I wouldn’t ruin her make up. I said, “Hallo, darling granddaughter. It is nice to see you again. You look so beautiful.”
Coral Rose replied, “Hallo” and walked off. She had been well indoctrinated. It would appear Coral Rose has lost the art of intellectual conversation, in particular being able to say “thank you.”
George, a man of strong family principles as mentioned earlier, describes his younger brother being gay; as a despot unworthy of his family’s recognition. Yet, George is aware that his very young daughter is on the pill and possibly having relations with a male friend.
I am having difficulty deciding whether George is the ‘Kettle or the Pot’. Then again, George may be trying to stem a flood of new arrivals. Kimberly, his eldest daughter who we love dearly, is very pregnant with our great grand daughter, the father of whom I have never met and who has shot through to the outback far beyond the black stump. It is a pity one cannot teach wisdom to the young. Nevertheless, I love George and all my sons equally, as a good father should. George is a good supportive father.
Mary and I have had two very pleasant visits to George, Rachael and Kimberly and her baby, beautiful Polly, at their home three months after the party, where all differences of opinion were shelved and we left on a happy note; after burying our hatchets six paces north of the hills hoist clothes post! However, at the party earlier, Steven and George eyeballed each other. I warned them “One word and out you go.”
It was after midnight when we returned home. Most of our guests had travelled far and were staying at local motels. Our family members continued to imbibe.
Having had little sleep overnight, Mary and I arranged for Steven and his partner Adrian to do the barbecue breakfast, they being employed by the best firm in the business; ‘ Barbe ques Galore’ at Kotara near Newcastle NSW, and they, knowing only too well; how to make your sausage sizzle! By one o’clock pm, we were at last on our own to spend the rest of the day recovering.
We received many cards and beautiful presents from well-wishers, among them a card from that little baldy bloke who is our nation’s leader and one from our Federal member, Ken Ticehurst, who is deserving of our thanks for his good work. Thanks, mate. There was another from our liberal Senator, Dr John Tierney; a splendid fellow and always busy, and a card from our temporary stand-in Governor General (who is also the Governor General of Tasmania), Sir Guy Green, Administrator of the Commonwealth of Australia, and his lovely wife, Lady Rosslyn. The card we really treasured, (not to demean the others which were are all very nice) was the card from The Honourable Sir William Deane and his lovely wife, Lady Helen Deane, (formerly Gov Gen Sir W. Deane and Lady Deane) who described us as old and valued friends of theirs. Thanks, Sir Bill and Helen. There were many occasions that Mary and I would have morning tea with Helen, during which time we would discuss family issues and I would tell her son jokes. I firmly believe that Bill and Helen Deane were the finest people to grace their exalted positions of Australian representatives of the British Monarchy.
There was no mention from Bob, who held the State’s top job. Maybe it was because of that nasty letter that I sent him in January when I was enraged over some stupid political nonsense. It seems his memory extends further than most political leaders. Bob is really a nice bloke, but his advisers are constantly getting their sums wrong.
Two years ago when our leader was in the USA, an American journalist asked one of his minders about his name.
“Mr Hunt, isn’t it?” enquired the journalist.
“No,” said the minder.” But don’t worry, you almost had it right.”
Have A Wonderful Day, Vest.