MEN AND SHOPPING

Hello I have emails asking for more personal stuff on 'life in Australia'

Let me know if you enjoy my writing style I am trying to improve.

Thursdays are generally family days, well family evenings actually. In Western Australia we only have ‘late night’ shopping on Thursday and as I and the children, tend to be playing sport on Saturdays. Thursdays have become our family shopping time…oh goody.

Last Thursday, Mrs Gill was in shoe-shopping mode, which means hours and hours of making some poor bloke in a cheap suit fetch endless boxes of more or less identical footwear and then deciding not to have anything, so I and the boys wisely decided to clear off and have a look at the toys, gadgets and other things that really interest men and boys.

To show her I love her, I first took her and the boys to the food court where we ate and she issued me with her usual precise instructions for a rendezvous. ‘Seven o’clock outside Woolworth’s. But listen – stop fiddling with that and listen - if Dingo & Wombat don’t have the shoes I want I’ll have to go to Beggs, in which case meet me at 7.15 by the frozen foods in the ING supermarket. Otherwise I’ll be in Angus & Robertson in the cookery books section or possibly the children’s books - unless I’m in Big W feeling toasters. But probably, in fact, I’ll be at Dingo & Wombat, trying on all the same shoes all over again, in which case meet me outside live clothing, no later than 7.27. Have you got that?’
‘Yes.’….(No).
‘Don’t let me down.’
‘Of course not.’ (In your dreams.)

I love shopping on my own and actually relish following a list supplied by my wife. However I hate the endless waiting for your other half and there is a universal look men give each other in shoe and clothing shops across the world.
Recently, in my local shopping centre, whilst waiting for Jackie to look at the same blouse for the tenth time I spotted a bloke in a suit sitting next to a pile of shopping bags. He had an enormous Australian beard – (Picture Billy Connelly) and the sort of world-weary look of someone who has long since abandoned hope of going home for a beer. ‘Have you been here long?’ I asked. He exhaled thoughtfully and said: ‘Put it this way mate. I was clean shaven when I got here.’ I just love that.

http://www.westfield.com/whitfordcit

STEWY

When Irish Eyes are Aussie

Hello blog lovers.

“slainte agus fad saol chughat is go b,fhaig tu pog anocht”

Happy Easter and St Patricks weekend.

I love my connection to the Irish. I married the daughter of Irish Parents, have wonderful Irish in-laws...'The McElroys' (Those of us Married to the McElroys were christened the 'Outlaws' by Bernadette, my wifes sister....we got our revenge by starting the 'I married a McElroy' Club...see t shirts...still available upon request) and two boys who know and love their Irish routes.

http://www.mcelroyclan.zoomshare.com/

The Irish tradition of travel has been a long one and helps those of us a long way from home feel somehow connected to an Irish culture. Often through the usual Irish theme pub, but more importantly through the work of enthusiastic individuals like those featured in this web site:

http://www.blarneybulletin.com/

Anyhow it is always great to pretend to be Irish if only for a day and I like the effect Guinness has on me, leaving me...full and satified...like a good Irish meal...

I was trying to find an Irish joke that didn't follow the drinking stereotype and came across this one...I liked it a lot....

A Dog’s Funeral
Muldoon, an Irish immigrant in Australia lived alone in the bush with only a pet dog for company. One day the dog died, and Muldoon went to the parish priest and asked, “Father, me dog is dead. Could ya’ be saying a mass for the poor creature?”
Father Patrick replied, “I’m afraid not, we cannot have services for an animal in the church. But there are some methodists down the lane, and there’s no tellin’ what they believe. Maybe they’ll do something for the creature.
Muldoon said, “I’ll go right away, Father. Do ya’ think $5,000 is enough for donate for the service?”
Father Patrick exclaimed, “Sweet Mary, Mother of Jesus? Why didn’t ya’ tell me the dog was Catholic?”

Love The Gills