Apr2014_So what’s been happening?

by Ryle Winn

‘I don’t want to go to Japan,’ I tell Karyn, ‘You can go and look at cherry blossoms every year if you want. I’d rather go and have a holiday in Queensland. Just think about it. In the south we’ve got freezing weather in Stanthorpe and at the same time 40 degree heat in Cloncurry in the north – what diversity! 

We’ve got the Reef to the east and the Simpson Desert to the west. Same thing. I tell you, it’s all here. No sirree my girl, take daughter-in-law Heidi with you to Nippon. I’ll spend some quality time – on my own – doing – something.  

 

So that’s sorted.   

 

They’ve departed for distant shores and I’ve got a few things to address. How do I work this bloody washing machine? A bank of dials, beeping sounds, flashing lights – can’t remember all the instructions I was given. The dishwasher next, same bloody thing. Whistles and bells – suds, a lot of suds. Shit! a real lot of suds. Vacuum cleaner – a breeze, just use the leaf blower instead. And the rest of the gadgetry; toaster, jug, stove all A-OK. But the iron, nope, I’m banned. Not trustworthy.

 

I’ve got bad memories. So has Karyn. 

 

It was the day before Australia Day and I got a dose of patriotism. In Big W I’d seen those little flags that kids wave and I’d seen the fold-up waxed cartons that hold nearly a carton of stubbies with the picture of the Aussie flag front and back. No, I wasn’t going to get on the grog (past life) but I bought three of them and intended filling them with books to take to Samford Museum for the day. Next, poke little flags in the corners. Should look good. 

 

All went well until the flags that were packaged tight in little plastic tubes, stayed like that when I took them out. Hmm, what to do? Iron them, of course, who wouldn’t? I switched the iron on, tested the warmth, and pressed the first one. Very effective. I fiddled around with the next, held it flat and ironed it. Shit, where did it go? It had magically disappeared. All I had left was the little stick and bugger all else. I turned the iron over. The complete imprint of the Aussie flag was on the bottom of the iron. How should I know that when you turn an iron on it keeps getting hotter and hotter? 

 

Karyn appeared just as I was trying unsuccessfully to get rid of the evidence. Shaking her head, she folded over an old tea towel, turned down the heat on the iron and did the job for me.

‘Thanks,’ I said, and smiled sheepishly at her.

 

All she said was, ‘That’s going to cost you a new iron. This one is ruined.’

 

It crossed my mind to suggest that I could fix this one but by her look I didn’t press the idea.