Garry P Dalrymple of Earlwood has an ethical question: “What should I do with all the rubber bands, these tears from someone else’s rainforest, that arrive each morning with my newspaper? Someone must be able to re-use them, but who?”
“CBD’s lead report related to Angus Taylor’s car being stolen, but no info on the vehicle was conveyed,” notes Andrew Cohen of Glebe. “Conservative politicians’ choice of wheels, like Tony Abbott’s thirsty yellow Rover 3.5 V8 and Malcolm Turnbull’s Tesla, a Toyota Prius might be top secret but perhaps C8’s spy network can elicit some interesting intelligence?”
It’s taken almost one hundred days, but Josephine Piper of Miranda has finally scored that long-awaited cupboard space: “A friend of my daughter wants the six parfait glasses (C8) and spoons!”
“Growing up in Mount Isa in the 1950s there was not a bottle of wine (C8) to be had for love or money,” recalls Peter Craig of Dulwich Hill. “This didn’t go down well with those of Italian heritage, a group of whom clubbed together annually to have a barrel of red shipped by train from the Barossa Valley. My non-Italian parents were generously included. When the barrel arrived, there was great festivity. While the men did the decanting, the wives made home-made pasta and sauces, all accompanied by singing and dancing. Such gastronomic delight was all the more welcome given that there was nowhere in town to buy a meal except in the pubs or the lone Chinese cafe, which did not merit the appellation.”
Joe Veness of Ingleburn says that working as a surveyor years ago, often involved stays in country pubs. “My wise old chainman would ask the bar staff if they had any of that ‘old red wine’ in the cellar. Many times we returned home with bottles of good quality wines. He once scored a box of Grange for $8 a bottle.”
The appropriately named David Rose of Nollamara (WA) was dining in a hotel four hours from Perth when a companion asked at the bar for a glass of Shiraz. “The barman asked ‘is that red or white?’ Perhaps he was filling in.”
“I reckon the ‘feels like’ temperature (C8) is when the weather guy takes the thermometer out of the Stevenson screen and puts it out in the howling gale or blistering heat where the rest of us are,” muses Adela Parkes of Boat Harbour.
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