Life - you wouldnt miss it for quids.

Well another weekend and another smile on the face.

This time is was a long awaited reunion of the Geraldton sailing crew - the people we travelled with to Geraldton in Western Australia last year, for our month of beach bumming/windsurfing/sehanigans. Yes, a small gathering for just us 11... oh and about 70 of our closest friends/people I had never seen before in my life! Cos not only was it a night for backslapping and "wasn’t it great"s, but it was also the long awaited viewing of "Indian Inc", the movie that was made by one of the guys about the trip. (see the invite/flyer beow). We reckoned it had better be good - Haggis had spent the better part of the past year working on it (in dribs and drabs) and he had about a gazillion hours of footage - much of it taken from a camera atttached to his head while sailing.

I'll confess I hadnt felt as excited about a partly for quite some time. I was all hyped to have a few beers and act like the fool that deep down inside I really am. The reality was quite different - we had to leave just after midnight cos mistress P had a kayaking (canoe polo) tournament the next day starting not long after sparrows fart - and the only risk of oblivion came from over indulgence in the free jaffas and maltesers... But it’s the thought that counts.

There was a huge drive-in-like movie screen erected in the backyard and a projector mounted in the lemon tree (yes, the thought did occur to me that I could watch movie AND pee on said tree at the same time - multi tasking at its masculine finest). But a certain Melbourne deluge on Saturday put paid to the moonlight cinema, so the better part of 80 people were crowded into their lounge room, with me wedged up against the precarious looking projector stand and suffering from a dog who wanted to lick my face at inopertune moments.

In short, the movie was a classic, with just the right amount of "ohh/ahh" moments and ritual humiliation. Mine involved me proclaiming that although my board was showing definate signs of breaking into a million bits, and despite this was being pointed out to me by my concerned fellow travellers, I didn’t care. It was, I exclaimed, "Death or Glory". (The next scene, of course, showed my board dutifully split into two neat halves... yes people also went "oohhh")

All in all, The fillum was truly a classic, I ate my body weight in jaffas and maltesers, got to sink a larger number of beers than normal and some nice young girly propositioned (or was it laughed at - I cant tell these days) me with the line "Hey, arent you Mr Glory or Death??
("No Mam, I'm Death or Glory.")...