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Saturday, September 14, 2013

Pinky the Pineapple Head


“I’m sick and tired of staying home on Saturday afternoons, watching movies and drinking wine,” I whinged to Scotto in bed this morning. 

“We need to get out and mix with the general community more. Life’s not ALL about drinking you know! I want to cut down on drinking altogether! We should just stop it.”

“Fine, Pinky. Anything you want my princess,” is what I hope he said as he mumbled sullenly into his coffee.

What he PROBABLY said was, 

“For f#*k’s sake, Pinky… do we have to go through this charade EVERY month?”

“Look! There’s a Pineapple Festival on at Rollingstone,” I squealed, rattling the newspaper into his unshaven face. “We’re going! Get up!

Rollingstone is about fifty kilometres north of the city and the drive up the highway was a pleasant departure from our usual routine. When we took the turn-off, I knew we were heading in the right direction.

“Look! Pineapples!” I yelped in excitement.

“Is that where they come from?” asked my city-slicker husband, “I always thought pineapples grew on trees.”

Naturally, we became lost and unsuccessfully harassed some non-English speaking Dutch tourists for directions, but eventually decided to backtrack and found some signage we’d overlooked the first time.

Finally we arrived at the well-attended bush/beach community event celebrating the not so humble fruit: Pineapples!!!

There were even people dressed as pineapples…

                                  Go Vinnie!

 and a specially decorated Pineapple cruiser...

As Dwight Yoakum blared from the loud speakers we ambled around the carnival running into friends,

 One of my fave colleagues, Donna and her two handsome sons, Harrison and Lachlan.

Tasting pineapple,



Annoying the local Firies,

                      Coming to you on a calender soon!

Keeping the SES crew on their toes,

                Looking a bit relaxed boys! What if there's a State emergency?

                                                                  Sorry, Pinky!

                                                  
                                                Phwoar! Gotta love a man in uniform...

Buying jam from the locals,

                                   
                                    "Don't break your camera taking our picture, Pinky!"

Watching a tractor pulling competition,



Chatting to Slippery Pete and his parrot,


Slippery Pete's real name is actually Ken and it turns out he used to be a State Member of Parliament. Whilst in office one of his achievements was to procure this boat,


which he uses to take groups with disabilities and seniors out for charity cruises.
"Excuse me..." whispered a nervous Pinky, "but are you Santa?"
Ken laughed. You see he has played Santa for the last forty years and indeed, now that I recall, I have several Christmas photographs of my own children posing with Ken!

Community! That's what I'm talking about baby!

Aaah! It was a swell day, Lurline!
But at the end of the day there’s really only one sensible thing to do with pineapples...
make Pina Coladas of course.