What was that, again?

(Warning - this post is composed entirely in Aussie-speak. If you find it hard to understand, imagine it rattled off at high velocity and in a thick accent.)

How ya goin’ mate –orright?
Candie and I hit the frog and toad after brekkie, to bludge about on the sand in our cozzies. It was good goin’, as the weather was like to fine up, and we all know that a seppo will rattle their dags to the beach in two shakes of a lamb’s tail when there is hard yakka to be done.

Being as white as a new jumpbuck, we stood out like a dunny in the desert among all the boaties and floaties. After a good basting in the sun and a paddle about with the grommies, we changed out of our togs and decided to shoot on through like the Bondi tram in search of edibles. Since we didna lug a hamper, we opted to stop and scarf some tucker at the local take-away for our afternoon tea.

I was so hungry I could eat a horse and its jockey. Neither of us wanted beige food like the battered sav, but I was willing to try the toad in a hole or pie floater. Candie told me to rack off, imbo, she was not havenit. Finally we found a place to get a spag bog with mushies, which left us full as a state school hat rack. Of course a good meal leaves one dry as a dead dingos donger, so off we go lookin for a schooner.

We went to the nearest Hotel, but it had rooms, not bevvies. The next Hotel had the rubbidy, so we plopped down for a pot. Before long the tide’s gone out, and we shouted another round. It appeared we were fixin to grog on. Candie started to rubbish the footy team on the tele, and stirred up a bit of a barney with the blokes around us. We had some lively natter, and luckily it was all in good fun, and no one chucked a mental. Never know with footy – some boofheads are like to be snitchy and spit chips if you stick your bib in, and will want to stack on a turn in a heartbeat.

Neither of us in the habit of being on the turps, we put on the wobbly boots in no time, and had to choof off before we found ourselves too faceless and liable to wake up the next day with the Joe Blakes. So we scarpered back to the flat, took Oskar for a stroll, and swung the billy for a cuppa. Yep, the day was apples, and the next looked to be just as right.
Life in Oz makes us happy as a dog with two tails.

Cheerio!