A Family Dinner.

“What’s that? You got friends,” pappa asks.

“Nar mate, tis my blog alarm.”

“You have a blog alarm?”

“Yeah mate.”

There’s laughter.

There’s always laughter at family dinners. It wouldn’t really matter what I did, really. I don’t think. There’d be laughter.

“Suzanne takes you down…
Where she blogs on your dongle…”

He chuckles to himself.

“These words did not exist when I was a boy! Never.”

“David had a blog… and he did shit with his dongle… Hallelujah… Hallelujah… blog on your dongle… on your do-o-o-o-o-o-ongle.”

“Pretty funny dad.”

“Hallelujah… ”

“I’m your Mauri.”

“Can you un-mute James Bond please. You don’t need the TV on mute to blog, surely.”

I don’t much like James Bond.

But Pierce Brosnan sure does look a lot like my old man.

And I like him for that.

“Hey Al, have you acknowledged the fact it’s 40 years this week since Germaine published the Female Eunich? Have you!? Blog that shit. 40 years ago. This week. Go on. Blog it.”

“Yeah, yeah, ok dad…”

“What’s this one called?”

“My blog? A Family Dinner.”

“No you muppet– this Bond film.”

“Ice Mountain,” my sister quips in.

Tash sits silently on the heater. She has Californian sunburn, you see. Aussies love making fun of people spinning out, fresh of a long haul flight– They love it.

“I don’t think you know how scary it is Alex… you know… knowing that you could be, at any given moment, the subject of one of your blogs. At any given minute.”

“Uh ha.”

“Before you know it, you could be sitting around having a meal and then– WHOOSH! Just like that, you’re out there on the ethernet! Just like that.”

“Ethernet?”

“Yep! Whoosh! Just like…”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because it’s a broadcast. Broad. It’s broad. This broadcast.”

“Un-mute!”

“Diamonds are Forever! That’s it!”

“Oh shit, you’re right. I can’t even remember.”

“You can’t even remember my birthday dad,” my sister bemoans–

“Sure I can, it’s the 24th of August!”

“No you twit, that’s Ally’s birthday!”

“Are you really the 31st of May? I didn’t even know there was a 31st of May. I thought May ended on the 30th. No wonder I can’t fucking remember… What about your brother? When’s he born? I thought you were all born on the 24th of August!”

“Mate, I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

“Listen, I had no say in the matter– none– Alex I wanted to call Patrick, you Tori, were George and your brother– He was going to be Oliver… Ask your mother… I dunno… I had no say…”

It’s been a funny old day. I spent most of it sobbing at the markets over my latte. Loads of reasons why. None of which matter much now. I’m exhausted. Really, really tired. It goes up and it comes down. That’s life. I bought some soil today with my dad. He’s a horticulturalist by trade and gets really excited about how much I love plants. “I just want to love something!” I wept over breakky at the Growers Markets. So many babies and dogs and things that grow and blossom and sexy young dads and sunshine and I just want to love something– Hence the potting mix. Hence the family dinner. Hence the blog.

Word.

x.

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Comments
One Response to “A Family Dinner.”
  1. weight says:

    yeah my dad will like this

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