Speeches are always my favourite part of a function. Usually because someone inevitably stuffs it up and makes a fool of themselves. I love unintentional humour.
There wasn’t a lot of that at my brother in law’s 40th on the weekend, but we did get some great chuckles nonetheless as people told stories about Daz growing up.
Like when he caused a delay at his sister’s wedding because he was the page boy. He did everything perfectly until he saw all the guests were turned and staring at him and then went to pieces. “Eff this!” he yelled, tossing the rings into the air and running off. They found him hiding shortly afterwards. The rings took another half an hour.
Okay, so this is the blog post where I get to say how awesome our Bridget Jones style ‘mini-break’ was.
Tracey and I don’t get away often so I know this will sound like a wankfest. I’d apologize, but the grin on my face would just make me seem insincere.
Our accommodation, in an exquisitely renovated train carriage, was the first big WOW moment. They were once a restaurant at the park but my sister, Kerri, and the birthday boy, Daz, stripped them back and made them over into beautiful rooms for guests. It was in front of these carriages the party was held with a bloke playing all our favourite songs on sexy sax to set the mood.
To limit my gloating to an acceptable level I will sum up the menu for Daz’s 40th in a brief couple of sentences which will not do it justice. Firstly, while we sucked down a few Coronas, our private chef kept presenting the table of 14 ‘distinguished’ guests with plate after plate of food which makes the poached eggs on toast I had for dinner tonight seem a little dowdy. The first two starters were Tuna Tataki and Scallops Gilliano. After that I stopped looking at the menu and just kept eating. There was pork belly, Morton Bay bugs, beef with bearnaise sauce, racks of lamb and other fancy smancy stuff.
And that’s just the food! At one point my mum brushed her glass and sent a goodly proportion of ’76 Grange soaring through the air. I now have a $300 stain on my jeans which I can’t bring myself to wash.
Still, as good as the food and wine were, it was the company we loved most. Finally meeting my brother in law’s family, who we’ve heard so much about over the years, was a genuine treat.
And it was one of Daz’s family who told the funniest story about Daz as a little kid.
“Who’s next for Show & Tell?” the teacher had asked Daz’s class.
“Me, Miss,” said young Daz.
“Anyone else?” asked the teacher. She was always a little wary of giving Daz a chance to open his mouth in front of the class. For starters he tended to throw in a liberal amount of effing adjectives when he got excited.
“I said, me, Miss!”
Reluctantly, she called him up. He brought nothing with him to the blackboard. This was to be a tell, not a show. Or so the teacher thought.
“I got an infection,” Daz explained to the class, “and it got real bad. So I went to the doctor and he said I had to have an operation.” As he spoke, Daz was becoming increasingly animated. “And do you know what that effing doctor did to me? Here, I’ll show you.”
And sure enough, at this point he proceeded to drop his duds to show everyone.
The teacher got to him just in time but it was apparently a near thing.
Thanks for a great weekend guys. And a great big effing happy 40th to you, Daz. We love you, mate. x
Here’s a link to my sister’s holiday park, which is an hour and a half north of Cairns (half an hour north of Port Douglas) – Pinnacle Village Holiday Park. To take a leaf out of young Daz’s book, the carriages are effing brilliant 😉
When not typing away over here and checking his stats every two minutes Bruce Devereaux hangs out at his ‘BIG FAMILY little income’ Facebook Page.
’raising a family on little more than laughs’