Sometimes in life, one reaches a moment where you just have to find out what might have been, as John Longhurst writes.
BAZZA’S MIND clicked through the decades as he read the handwritten address on the envelope before sliding a beer across to Mick.
Sorry about the wait, Mick. Someone has sent me a letter addressed ‘Care of the The Pub, Bodalla. NSW.’ I had to explain to the young bar attendant what a letter is and half an hour on why it needs a stamp.
You know, Mick, without even opening it, I bet it is a letter from someone I went to primary school with. We had a teacher who was so bloody strict with handwriting that we all ended up writing in the same style. We had slope cards behind each page and practised each letter for ages before we were even allowed to join them up into words. She would give you a good whack across the knuckles if you strayed outside the lines on the slope card.
Getting a pen licence was hard work in those days.
Mick sighed.
“The fact it is addressed to the pub is a worry to start with, Bazza. Just open the bloody letter.”
Bazza replied:
“Ah... there you go, a 50-year primary school reunion, Mick.”
Mick eyed Bazza from head to toe for a good while.
“Now Bazza, I don’t want to offend you but here is a bit of work you need to do on yourself before you even think of going.”
Bazza leaned back and creased his eyes as Mick continued:
You should either dye your hair or shave it completely, to keep them guessing. You really need to take a mini lawn mower to the monobrow and the hair sprouting from your nose and ears and I’ve been wanting to pluck that little outcrop growing out of the mole on your face for years.
I would think about investing in some contact lenses as your glasses resemble the bottoms of Coca-Cola bottles. I don’t think there is much time to do anything with your nose; it’s just been in too many scrums, but the false teeth could do with a good polish.
Bazza replied defensively:
“All a bit rough, Mick. I’m now pleased the wife’s eyesight is on the decline.”
Mick tried to comfort him:
“You are better off hearing it from me rather than your primary school sweetheart, Bazza. By gee, you need to drop a fair few kilos though. But there is some good news.”
Bazza straightened his back and breathed in to reduce his girth while Mick smiled and raised his glass.
The good news is your choice of clothes. You can pretty much go as you are, as your fashion sense hasn’t changed since the 1970s.
Now, on the night, I suggest your drink of choice should be a top-shelf scotch to let everyone know you are a success. It’s also important to have a mobile phone with you as well and get someone to ring you every 15 minutes so that you have an excuse to move on from someone who is boring you and to send a signal to all that you are extremely important in your chosen field.
Bazza took a very long sip and a deep breath.
All sounds a bit too much, Mick, given the only reason I would want to go is to find out about my Love Actually moment. In the movie, the beautiful girl points to the 12-year-old boy whilst singing ‘All I Want for Christmas is You’.
When I had a very bit part in our school production of My Fair Lady, the star of the musical asked me to hold the water bubbler for her before she went on stage. Now, I’ve always wondered whether she actually chose me amongst the six other boys, or whether it was because I was standing next to her.
John Longhurst is a former industrial advocate and political adviser. He currently works as an English and History teacher on the South Coast of NSW.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Australia License
Support independent journalism Subscribe to IA.
