ERROL PARKER | Editor-at-large | Contact

Our reporter’s neighbour on Greenbow Road in Betoota Heights said he enjoys this time of year.

He likes it when his adult family return from all corners of the world. Finds joy in having them all back under the same roof. Seeing his wife teeter on the verge of an endorphin overdose because the kids are hope, he says, is the best part.

Around six o’clock last night, local father Michael O’Driscoll got up on his top toes and looked over into our reporter’s yard to ask if he had any chairs he could borrow.

He saw our reporter in the pool. His eyes shut floating on a foam mattress with a pair of Bluetooth headphones on, waiting for this time of year to pass so things can go back to normal.

Our reporter had chairs he could borrow because he’s not doing Christmas this year. Michael nodded, turned to walk away but paused for a moment.

“Come over tonight for a drink,” he said.

“Merry Christmas, Errol. Are you going to be OK getting out of the pool on your own?”

Last night in his back shed, where our reporter joined him for the hours between midnight at four o’clock in the morning, he shared some of the things he doesn’t enjoy about having his kids home for Christmas.

He prefaced it by telling our reporter than it was OK to smoke in his shed and that he didn’t need to stand out at the door where his wife might see them.

“Can I have one of those?” Michael said.

“Thanks. Mate, I’ll tell you something for free,”

“You know it’s fucking Christmas time when all your phone chargers grow legs and vanish. My three daughters are home and I’ve got seven in-laws up there in the house, too. You’d be fucked if you’d think you could find a phone charger in that house,”

“I even had one down here so I could charge my phone and listen to some Springsteen in peace.”

Michael rocked back in the old chair he was sitting in that used to be in his kitchen many years ago.

“Have you heard ‘Racing In The Street‘ from that Bruce and the E Street Band Live box set from the 70’s?”

Our reporter said he hadn’t.

So Michael put it on and they sat in silence listening to it while they bum puffed their John Player Specials.

Our reporter noticed it was nearly 4am. Michael’s eyes widened.

“Jesus Christ, we better get to sleep.”

At the time of print, Michael still hadn’t risen from bed to collect yesterday’s Weekend Betootan from the front lawn.

More to come.



