Page 3 - Publication2

The expectorate Grandmother

The common theme throughout this collection of stories is Dad’s razor wit and exceptional timing. He clearly missed his call-
ing as a stand up comedian but he kept the family laughing through thick and thin. The hard times did not seem that hard to
us because of the laughter that was shared in the house. This story however was not in our house but that of our grandpar-
ents.
Grandpa and grandma had moved to Toukley on the central coast and retired to the waterfront property at Goobarabah
point. The property had originally been bought by great grand dad (Chauncey Earle) when the area was nothing more than a
lake surrounded by swamps and bush. Grandma and Grandpa had bought one block off Great Grand Dad and another Great
Aunty had bought the other. Grandma and Grandpa had built a house on the block and we use to make the big trip up there
for the holidays. And it was a big trip then. Longer when your sister was vomiting and the road kept winding for what
seemed an eternity. That however is a different set of stories.
Holidaying at Toukley was fantastic. Fishing, swimming surfing, prawning and boating. Long summer days with plenty to do
and war comics for rainy days was idyllic for me. The downside was that Grandma and Grandpa kept a clean house which
meant that mum was forever cleaning up after us or preventing us from touching anything. This was probably why we were
always sent fishing or swimming and such. Luckily Grandma and Grandpa build a big shed, mainly for Grandpa’s boat, but we
were allowed to camp there rather than in the big house. This gave mum some respite and allowed us kids to experience
some great holidays.

Anyway one morning we were invited to breakfast in the big house so we dutifully attended and enjoyed a breakfast spread
of cornflakes and toast and jam (from jam tins which I still miss) and of course tea. Breakfast was going swimmingly and we
kids had managed to stay on the plastic runners and not touch any walls. We did get in trouble for leaving our shoes and
thongs in the doorway but that was an ongoing issue which I have handed over to my children). So we were sitting at the
table eating breakfast and enjoying polite conversation, however I had already gone to the beach or fishing in my mind so I
missed the actual trigger for the sudden explosion that engulfed us.

Dad was never one to dominate a conversation, unless he was telling one of his stories. He often just added interesting tid
bits or wry comments. It was on this occasion that Dad decided to add one of his comments. The comment was so well
timed that all I remember is the hubbub of normal conversation, Dad’s passing comment and then being liberally sprayed
with cornflakes and milk.

Dad’s comment had hit a particularly poignant button in Grandma just as she had taken a mouthful of cereal. Unfortunately
for all of us, Grandma had taken the seat at the head of the table and so we all were caught in the explosion.

The conversion from that point became very quiet as we all tried desperately to surreptitiously remove bits of cornflake
and mop up puddles of milk. Even Dad was not game to make any comment after that for quite some time.