Craig has created a bullet pen , which he has now found out you don't shoot it, you write with it.
You learn this stuff at the men's shed.
Three of our members all named Bill, one of whom does not figure in this story since he left earlier in the afternoon for the timber show at Olympic Park. Afterwards another member and two of the Bills went to an Irish pub in the city for some serious rehydration – it was after all a warm winters day and actually quite hot in the sun and they knew Guinness would greatly assist our plight. It's not good to go without fluids on hot days.
You learn this health stuff at the men's shed.
Bill 2 then decided he could no longer manage the pressure building in his bladder. I gave him directions and he returned a little while later and said "This a real bloody Irish pub isn’t it, there are no urinals in the toilet, I felt like I should have to sit down to have a pi**." Yeap, you guessed it. More havoc as patrons are concerned Bill 2 (we'll call him Lady Bill) is using the ladies loo which by this time was becoming a more popular location with the fairer sex enjoying Xmas in July. They managed to smooth this over with more apologies, undertakings etc. and were served another pint each.
Bomber Bill's wife rang as his dinner was on the table on the central coast. We decided that we should attempt to salvage his marriage and catch the next train. The Bomber didn't think to make time to pay that last penny in the correct rest room, probably due to the upset caused by Lady Bill and everyone watching us by that time. By the time the train got to Strathfield he was beginning to experience considerable discomfort. The loos on the night train were locked. Bill was making up letters to send to Gladys Berejiklian or whatever her name is and soundly abusing city rail. After the train left Hornsby and past the point of no return the Bomber is pretty much doubled over in the seat whilst Lady Bill and I discussed the rain, waterfalls, admired the Hawkesbury under lights, shook and drank from our water bottles discussed and imitated sounds of water falling in various scenarios. When the train failed to stop at the Wondabyne RSL the Bomber could stand it no more and he disappeared between carriages. He returned with a smile and look of much satisfaction. Lady Bill and I still don't know how the managed it but the Bomber probably still doesn’t realise that every inch the new fancy trains are covered by security cameras. So I wonder what fallout is still to come from the eventful evening.
They hopped off the train at Woy Woy and thought the best recovery would be to go to the Olde Pub and enjoy a bottle of red wine each until we could figure how to get home. A funny funny evening.
The Shark Whisperer
The below video shows the shark circling the shed.
Then this photo taken minutes later shows our own shark whisperer ,
Fred DeLuca ,claming the shark down
Irish car rescue