12-14 March 1999
J grudgingly agreed to come with Brady and I down to our Grandparents house, with our Father.
As you will have established by now our Father is a narcissistic, misogynist. The archetypal Aussie Male Baby Boomer – loves fishin’, huntin’, drinkin’ and screwin’. This entailed a four hour car drive (each way) listening to him bleet on about himself and how much he does for everyone and how much everyone loves him, how the Sun wouldn’t come up each day if he didn’t personally put the Moon away each night, bla bla bla. If you could ask J, he would rather have root canal (again if you’ve read this so far, you’ll know about J and his dental woes).
Dad wanted to take us fishing and so – we went fishing. We took a crappy little tinny boat out, it was cold, J and I just didn’t want to do it but Brady and Dad were excited, and just like our childhood, we shut up, sucked it up and went along with anything to avoid our fathers own special blend of rage and sulking.
I have photos and they are priceless, J and I huddled together, begrudging smiles for our father too self absorbed to see our eyes laughing at him. I remember J struggling to get the boat on and off the car Dad shouting – “Lift it Digger, just lift it, DIGGER! I said LIFT IT!“
Oh we must have heard every bloody theory possible on the blue green algae that was plaguing the Lakes Entrance area that year, I actually opened my mouth to scream at one point. I know my brother loved me for all he suffered that weekend, and I am eternally grateful. Strange how doing something we loathed and despised has become one of my most treasured memories.
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