Regarding memory stories (C8), Mike Parton of Tamworth says, “At 80-odd, my memory has reached the stage that I can forget what I am doing while I’m doing it.”
Another memory trick comes from Roger Bowie of Seaforth: “My father once parked his car in the vast, open Moore Park ‘paddock’ to attend the cricket at the SCG but failed to locate it at close of play. Practical solution: catch the bus home and return the next day to collect the car, now sitting alone and lonely.”
The spider stories just keep crawling along (C8 thanks the arachnophobes for their patience). Nola Tucker of Kiama asks, “Our huntsman lurks in the bathroom, but if the skinks, which are reappearing in the laundry etc, come upstairs, will there be any territorial conflict?”
Frank Headon in Hay tells, “Years ago my wife and I visited Sapphire, Queensland, and called into a shop. I noticed a jam jar (circa 1920). It was empty so I turned it around. It had ‘Houdini spider’ written on it. They had a good sense of humour back then.”
Murray Hutton of Mount Colah says, “One time I was in the patch of bush behind my place, pulling out privet seedlings while chatting to my neighbour. I suddenly felt a whoosh behind me and turned to see a kookaburra devouring a funnel web only inches away from where my hand was reaching.”
Andrew Cohen of Glebe adds a warning: “Five months ago, I was bitten on the big toe while asleep, and my several GP diagnoses were that it was likely a huntsman, not a redback or white-tip spider, as there were two fang marks, too far apart to be anything else. It was very painful to walk for nearly three weeks despite prescription medication.”
Just one more spider (drink) story and one more parfait story. Rhoda Silber of Manly recalls, “My nephew Max from Johannesburg visited us decades ago and asked for a cream soda spider in a cafe. The waitress brought him a glass of soda water and a bowl of cream.”
Irene Thom of Vaucluse advises, “One can never have too much parfait. We use my father’s beer glasses as no one drinks beer from a glass any more. The grandchildren get a glass each, a range of ingredients and assemble their own parfaits. A parfait spoon completes the fun.”
Column8@smh.com.au
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