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Well here we are. It’s August already.

That makes me sound Jewish, already! That’s how comics would portray the Jewish character. Someone shrugging their shoulders, palms outward, head tilted to one side saying “already”. Or someone dressed in a green suit, carrying a spade, saying “Begorrah”. I don’t think I’ve ever heard an Irishman say “Begorrah”. Does anybody know what it means?

We are all guilty of slotting people into caricatures. We don’t really think about it, we just assume.

I was on the phone the other day talking to a friend’s mate, trying to set up a surprise party, and happened to mention I was from Belfast. This person started to speak in a very bad Irish accent calling me paddy and started telling me a very old and bad Irish joke. So I laughed, beat him to the punch line and tried to explain that Belfast is part of the United Kingdom and, though now an Australian, I was previously British. To which he began arguing I was incorrect.

This brought home the way we all put people into the pigeonholes of our making already! . So the next time someone says my great grandfather was a vampire, don’t assume he was from Transylvania. He might have just been a tax accountant or a lawyer.

Where has this cold come from? I know where it going: to my hands and feet. At least the days are getting brighter sooner. Summer will be next. Last year it was like this, but warmer. Is it me getting older or is it colder? They tell us it’s because of El Nino., If anybody knows where this Spanish woman lives send her back to Barcelona, so we can get warm again.

I’m sitting at my computer wearing my blue padded jacket and eating a Violet Crumble (it’s the way it shatters that matters); truly an Australian experience. When I first inquired about emigrating to Australia, we went to Australia House in London for an interview to find out whether we were the kind of people the Great State of Victoria would want. The benchmark couldn’t have been that high, I hear you say. And while there I spoke to one of the interviewers, Jan, and asked what she missed most after two years away from home. The footy, a really cold beer, Violet Crumble and Hey! Hey! It’s Saturday, was the reply. Not the heat, I asked? No, she said, I live in Melbourne: pleasant one day, nicer the next. What a lair she was! And I believed her.

But pretty soon we’ll be going to the fridge for a beer and a VC bar to have while watching the footy. Three out of four ain’t bad, already!

If you have an opinion you’d like to vent. Write to me at and if it’s not too politically incorrect (even if it is) it may pass inspection and appear in this column.  (We can withhold names if preferred)

“Till next time. Woof!


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