Friday rolled around quick. Maybe it has something to do with the Pakistanis. I don’t know. I just do my job and go home each day. There’s always a meal of meat and three veggies waiting for me, followed by some reality TV shows of how other people live. You wouldn’t read about some of the things I see.
I’ve been in line for a promotion for 40 years but it hasn’t come. Word is they’re keeping me for something special. But I don’t know. I’m not quite sure what my job is, to tell you the truth. I stand in a line alongside my fellow work colleagues and at the right time I step forward and attach a bolt. Then it’s onto Charlie, next in line, to attach his screw. We are considered the best two fitters they have and take a lot of pride in that.
Some of the new kids they employ make us laugh. They don’t know anything and think they do. They also talk all the time. Me and Charlie hardly ever say a word. We just look at each other and know. I think sometimes words can get in the way and confuse things. Charlie tells me that when the Martians land here they won’t speak at all they’ll just look at us and read our minds. Well me and Charlie are more than ready for that.
Charlie and me were not mates straight off. At first we were a little standoffish. But after about 20 years we relaxed in each other’s company and are now like brothers. I was best man at his wedding and he was best man at mine. To highlight how alike we are, imagine this, at both our weddings we got so drunk on the free beer that neither of us could say our speeches, which suited us just fine. The wives were a bit upset though.
The trouble with being married is that women like to talk all the time. I don’t mind Peg talkin’ at me but it annoys me somethin’ bad when she expects a verbal response. The Martians are gonna hate her. I told her early in our courtship that I was like a Clint Eastwood type. Now she taunts me by sayin’ “Go ahead and make my day! Say somethin’!” But I just ignore her and refuse to be baited into a petty argument.
Last week our doctor informed me that I have a growth on my vocal chords. Nothing serious he said. Then told me to get my affairs in order. I indignantly told him I don’t have affairs and have never cheated on Peg. That shut him up and put him in his place. Peg is obsessed about how I could have a problem with my voice box when, in her words, I never use it. She keeps telling me, “See? What you don’t use, you lose!” Maybe that explains our sex life too.
Anyway, it’s been a very satisfying life and I ain’t complainin’. We have travelled extensively throughout Victoria and our favourite place by far is Marysville. Why go overseas or see the rest of Australia when Victoria has so much to offer? Keep your French Riviera (where they don’t speak our lingo), Marysville will do me. Peg feels the same.
I don’t know what it is about Marysville that keeps us coming back. Maybe it’s the fresh country air, but all I know is I spend most of my time sleeping. Peg doesn’t mind and actually encourages me to rest up, knowing how hard I work. The poor thing has had to while away the days with the hotel’s young Italian guide, Dino, who takes all the ladies on bush walks. She has actually come to love it and now can’t wait to get up and go each morning. Sometimes she doesn’t get back to our room until I’m already asleep at night. They must be exhausting and rugged walks because sometimes she has dirt and leaves all over her and skinned knees. But I don’t say anything because it obviously does her the world of good experiencing the wild as she is always smiling and in a happy mood, with healthy rosy red cheeks. If Peg had her way we’d go to Marysville every weekend.
When I think of my life, I wouldn’t be dead for the world.
(c) Frank Howson 2017