Day two of the current Legislative Assembly session and I wheeled into a car space not far away so that I could listen to proceedings. A final twist of the steering wheel and suddenly I felt as if I had been licked on the left elbow by a cow . It certainly was not a love bite – I have read that they are hot , painful and usually applied to the region of the jugular vein . This was cold, gooey , wet and , frankly, scary .
Much to my horror , the litre bottle of Trim milk , bought earlier in the morning on my wife’s instructions given before she went out , was sitting in the console cup holder and had touched me up .
As I came out of the shop with the milk I had just bunged it into the slot, promptly forgot about it, went home , read the NT News , spent time on the computer and then drove to the Assembly. What to do with the bottle of milk ?-Abandon it in a bin ? Drive home and put it in the frig without telling my wife who abhors sour milk ? Call at the RSPCA and make some cats feel wanted?
Lateral thinking was needed in this lactic lullaby, another senior’s moment. (Don’t suppose I told you I once knew a girl in South Australia who’s best friend was a cow called Moo Poo?). Anyway, back in Darwin, I ran into the office of a friend in the CBD with the distressed milk and placed it in the intensive care section of his frig . When I got it home later in the day , I quickly put it in the freezer , turning it into an ice block. A sniff test and a sip proved that it was fit for human consumption.
Now I read in the News that Mrs Robyn Chandler, wife of politician ,was spoken to for bottle feeding her son in the Assembly. Had I known that an enfant was going to be fed in the gallery I could have supplied the mother of the bouncing baby boy with a bottle which had bounced around a bit itself and was at the right temperature.
Much to my horror , the litre bottle of Trim milk , bought earlier in the morning on my wife’s instructions given before she went out , was sitting in the console cup holder and had touched me up .
As I came out of the shop with the milk I had just bunged it into the slot, promptly forgot about it, went home , read the NT News , spent time on the computer and then drove to the Assembly. What to do with the bottle of milk ?-Abandon it in a bin ? Drive home and put it in the frig without telling my wife who abhors sour milk ? Call at the RSPCA and make some cats feel wanted?
Lateral thinking was needed in this lactic lullaby, another senior’s moment. (Don’t suppose I told you I once knew a girl in South Australia who’s best friend was a cow called Moo Poo?). Anyway, back in Darwin, I ran into the office of a friend in the CBD with the distressed milk and placed it in the intensive care section of his frig . When I got it home later in the day , I quickly put it in the freezer , turning it into an ice block. A sniff test and a sip proved that it was fit for human consumption.
Now I read in the News that Mrs Robyn Chandler, wife of politician ,was spoken to for bottle feeding her son in the Assembly. Had I known that an enfant was going to be fed in the gallery I could have supplied the mother of the bouncing baby boy with a bottle which had bounced around a bit itself and was at the right temperature.
