When I think back, my most fond memories come from an even splattering of all the centuries that I have lived through, the 60’s, 70’s,80’s and the 90’s; I guess I base fondness on these memories on the amount of laughing I can remember doing; then in the living; and now in the retelling.

I thought of some of my funniest memories and decided to compile a short reminder for some or all of you.

Hmmmmmm now where shall we start ?

I have always loved the story which occurred when I was living in Margaret St with Mr Ian Shephard. For whatever addle brained reason I had for wanting to saving money; I told Ian that "I wouldn't be going halves with the groceries because I would be going on a yoghurt diet that week; To lose weight" ! Obviously I planned on saving quite a bit of money on groceries that week because I didn't even like yoghurt.

I somehow got away with this statement, either because Ian couldn't be bothered arguing or he figured, "She probably wont be home all weekend anyway"

Well I didn't last very long without eating. One afternoon not long after my staunch decree off food, I had dragged my sorry arse out of bed it occurred to me that I was hungry. Really hungry!

"Ian was always cooking up gourmet delights on the meagerest budget, there must be something around here that he wont miss"!

hell before I know what I was doing I had eaten about half a dozen off the top; leaving little indentations in the set sauce, showing where they had once been.

problem solved I jumped into the shower and got ready for the Barn.

(The Barn was the nick name for the government program, then known as CYSS which proported to be teaching the unemployed skills which would enable them to find work. That's a laugh ! Everyone just sat around smoking, drinking free coffee, talking, or playing cards for money. The latter being a talent that certainly served me well on off dole week, down Tullah on a pay day. (But that's another story)

Approximately 1 hour later at about 1.PM, I was out the door and up Sandy Bay road, hiking up to Glenorchy to the barn.

At about 4.30 I was sitting around the barn, casually thinking that I should be getting home, and how I didn't really want to when suddenly a thought struck me, that propelled me out of my chair like I had just sat on a snake.

Obliging guy ! Took me right to the front door of No 12 Margaret St.

"Ian you will never know the trepidation with which I came around the corner into Margaret St with, that afternoon, fully expecting to see the house burnt down".

The chances of Ian not having been home and discovering his fossilised casserole were highly unlikely, and despite his impending wrath; just seeing it still standing made me want to burst out laughing. I thanked my lift (whatever his name was) and tentatively opened the door.

The pungent aroma of burnt food assailed my nostrils; and THIS was in the front hall, the kitchen was down the back !

"SHIT" !! (THINK THINK) "OH SHIT" ! "Even if he hasn't been home, there's no way on earth of disguising this odour"

As I made my way down the hallway, the stench got ever stronger.

"Was it my imagination or are the walls looking yellowier than before" ?

As I entered the Kitchen the smell was awful, despite the back door being wide open. The oven was turned off ! He’d been home.

I walked toward the oven, "MY GOD" ! Around the oven door, like flames reaching out toward more oxygen there was a dark yellow... mustard coloured stain. Like baked on Dirt. "Well, baked on was right" I wet my finger and rubbed it over the mark, hoping that it would just wipe off, it didn't.

"Hmmmmm where's that casserole" ? "Perhaps that open back door is a clue". I went outside to find the Casserole out on the outside park bench. It was broken in two. On either side of the broken charred and blackened dish were fossilised remnants of what once were lamb chops and champignon mushrooms. (The few I must of missed) "Had that oven proof (EXPENSIVE) Pyrex dish cracked in the heat of the oven" ? I casually mused trying to keep my mind from comprehending the horror of what Ian would say when he got home.

I wandered back inside, mentally preparing for Ian’s arrival home. ( I couldn't have been more scared if I was waiting for Kath to suddenly descend upon me; and it was HER blackened stove) Back in the kitchen my eye caught sight of a new note on the kitchen notice board.

It was short blunt and questioning.

As I read it I just burst out laughing, I laughed and laughed and laughed. Whilst writing this story I laughed and laughed. Reading the note made me relax; Kath wasn't going to deal with this, Ian was. He was calm and rational and would at least listen to whatever plausible story I could concoct between now and when he got home.

I decided that it had been raining too long and I erected a clothes line in the kitchen

The night at the Granada hotel when Mandy was treated to the sight of Gascgoine’s impersonation of strip Saturday night fever.

So for a short walk down memory lane I have put together the little quiz on pages 16 and 17. Its just for a bit of a laugh.