The other day I was cleaning out one of my desk drawers when I ran across a notebook filled with notes from a trip Am and I had made to New Zealand and Australia back in the ’90’s. At this point my hen scratchings don’t mean much -- bring back a few memories, perhaps - but one page of notes I thought you might find interesting. We were on a bus tour from Melbourne to Sidney, and had stopped for lunch at some little town. Here are the notes, verbatim:
Sitting on stool in shade waiting for Am. Scruffy looking man ambles by - stops - looks at me. “What are you collecting for, Legacy or something?” “Not a thing.” “Oh.”
About 20 minutes later Mr. Scruffy came back. “You’re a bookie!” he announced. “No, I’m a tourist.” “A tourist, eh?” He smiled knowingly, revealing a gap next to his gold filled incisor.
Another note. I have no idea what it refers to, but looks amusing:
Dogs gather; kids scatter.
Here’s a couple of computer type cartoons -
A bookie?! Please, it's "turf accountant."
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