Gus's 1970's Bubi Koft.

Julian was proudly displaying the very bad pic of Gus that was printed in the not so bad book about the opal fields that was written by a friend to her German luncheon visitors. They had driven her home from Mudgeeraba in Queensland to North Bonville in New South Wales because they were visiting their mother and she wanted to show them the jewellery business which kept them both going. Mum said, with delight, "it's a bubi kopf."
"Pardon?", said Julian, politely.
"Bubi kopt." she said again.
"How do you spell, booby?" asked Julian.
"B. U. B. I."
Julian loved it. "We call it a 'pudding basin haircut," she said.
Mum went on to relate a story about her 60 yr old daughter having a home made bubi kopt with her sister and how they were dressed and what they all did. Julian vaguely remembered a photograph of them all at that time, proving the bubi kopt was in the family history.

It was difficult to keep up with the pace of life in this world. There had been a famous interior designer on a Parkinson that looked at least 20 years old. The rerun had been on at 4 am, so no surprises there. Flooding in Victoria and removing drugs and alcohol was going to improve the situation somewhere or other, as well as a death of an aborigine in custody. The designer had asked Parky things like, "are you in cohoots with my wife?" & Julian had enjoyed The Three Monkeys playing at the local Fed. "Grab a spouse," Kurt had said. Hermione and Julian had agreed that it had to be Kurt with a K because it wouldn't do, being Curt with a C. Talking to the guitarist later, who was a friend of Ulrich and Mudbilly and had been to Buccrabendinni, which was the topic of conversation, she found that his name was actually Curtis, so, in point of fact, it was Curt with a C.

Another guest on Parky, a well known ancient chef who had wanted to be a famous soccer player but his ligaments wouldn't allow it, so he popped on an apron and had just a touch of trouble explaining it to his old da, was talking about his cheffing experiences in Paris and how difficult it was to explain to his French girlfriend that after 16 hrs in the kitchen at a very fast pace he needed to sleep. He said that having a French girlfriend was like going to bed with a rotweiler strapped to his chest.

Phew. William was also sporting new shoes. That was a whole new blog, as well as his new boots. Today was a full day in the field, as well as having to organise the posting of the natural progesterone to Kate, Misty and popping it in the fridge for Alana. Putting more money on the credity card, pre-studying the Revelation book, making sure that lunch was packed, soup put in the freezer, dishes done, another hotel rewritten and continuing to research the talk about James 4:8. Life was fast, furious and satisfying.

There was also a dead chicken blog on the burner. "They peck their own. They peck and peck and peck until they're dead," explained the white man in a strong American accent, retold with great humour by Mary Hitler. Julian was still recovering from being almost pecked to death by Mary so laughed loudly and very politely. Should she mention it? She didn't think so.