When I started this blog years ago, I thought it would be the voice of dudes everywhere.
Boy, was I wrong.
Roughly 92% of my followers are women. Roughly the same percentage of male bloggers write like women. I feel like I write for women. Not like. Big difference. I won’t say things like squee! or totes adorbs or “said no one ever.” I think those aren’t manly terms.
My No. 1 fan in terms of comment engagement happens to be a bloke.
Or a mate, as it were. Laurie, who writes The Adventure of Writing, is nearly the first to check in to my posts. When I hit publish at midnight, it’s 7 p.m. down under. Just as I drift off to sleep, my phone chimes in that Laurie Smith has liked my post.
Today, you’ll like his post.
My Englishman friend turned Aussie will tell you today the five essentials he’d bring to a barbecue with Coach Daddy. While we fire up the barbie, make sure you check out his Adventure of Writing, wrought with tales of curious wallabies and wayward spirits.
I’m pleased to be here on Eli’s blog and would love to attend a BBQ at his home. After I finish listing what I’d bring he may not invite me back though.
I don’t go outside unless my old hat comes along. It not only keeps the sun off my balding dome in summer, it keeps it warm in winter. I can use it to put out small fires, especially those that flare up on a grill. Flies don’t know what hit them when you swish it around, and you can wear it down over your face when you’re sleeping relaxing.
A Cricket Bat and Ball.
Yes, I know Eli loves his football and baseball. Well I want to introduce him to a gentleman’s game, Cricket. It can be played anywhere, from the hallowed grounds of Lords in England to the MCG in Melbourne. It’s played on beaches, in backyards, and out on the street. Anything can be used for stumps (wickets) except maybe your little
brother, that ball hurts. The ball normally used in matches is cork bound in string with a leather outer. The ball of choice for backyards etc is a tennis ball. The rules change in backyards. Over the fence you’re out, on the roof you’re done and if you break a window? Well you just keep running. Someone always seems to bring out a bat at BBQ’s, usually after the adults have had a few beers too many. Then the Dad’s show their prowess and whack the ball all over the place. The rules? Two teams, one team is in with two batters. The team that is out plays in the field trying to get the team that is in, out. Once they have them all out, then the team that was out is in and the team that was in is now out. They then try to get the team that is in out and………… now I’m confused, have a look at
the link. › Rules.
Everyone knows you don’t turn up to a BBQ empty handed, even if you only bring some sausages it’s better than nothing. When we first arrived in Australia from England back in 1961, we had no idea of local customs at all. We were invited to a BBQ and asked to, ‘bring a plate.’ Mum remarked that it sounds like they don’t have enough crockery to go
around. So we all ended up there with an empty plate each. Hmm, what would I bring? We have a fine range of meats here and other than a couple of rump steaks and wholegrain bread rolls for me. I would bring the host something different to savour. For a start, Emu meat it’s part of our national emblem and it tastes like chicken. Then there’s crocodile
and it tastes like, err chicken. It wouldn’t be a BBQ without that favourite, kangaroo, the other half of the emblem. No, it doesn’t taste like chicken, more along the line of venison, slightly gamey but highly nutritious.
Thanks to Wikipedia for the picture.
I would have to bring a six pack of Fourex Gold, yes it’s a beer. I know the brand Forex in the US is a condom; it caused no end of mirth in Vietnam when you told a US serviceman you drank Fourex. It is a beer to behold and there’s nothing like feeling it sliding down your parched throat on a hot day. It helps wash that croc meat down when you find out exactly what you’re eating.
A Zero Turn Mower to carry my Esky.
One has to think ahead here. What if your lawn hasn’t been cut? I’m dressed for action, wearing my hat of course, bat ball and an Esky full of meat and beer. So watch out Eli, when you hear that four stroke engine screaming in the distance, and the rattling of empty cans you know Laurie is on his way to your BBQ.