“I just sell firewood love, not that exciting really, not much to tell. I have emphysema, it’s my own fault! smoked right up to 2 and half years ago. I was born and raised here and been in the firewood business for about 32 years, You wouldn’t have even been born then! (he’s a charmer) and I have 7 kids including 2 stepsons, the eldest one’s 53. I don’t mind Lismore, not a bad spot.
That fella there is my youngest son, his name’s Young Al. (Young Al reckons he was called that cause his dad was probably on the turps and couldn’t think of any other names) He’s a bit cranky that boy, takes after his mum.
One of my customers ran over me, broke me ankle, mmm, accidentally, bloody hurt too. He knocked me over with his bumper and I fell on the gravel then he parked on my foot and pulled the handbrake on. His wife’s yelling at him, ‘get off his foot!’ Gee it hurt mate.
A New Zealand lady who was a regular came one day and I didn’t remember her and I used to have 3 chooks living in the tree there. Had an old microwave with sawdust in it for them to roost in, anyway the fox got them but when she turned up she said ‘Hello Al, where’s your cock?’ I didn’t know what she was talking about …oh you mean the rooster!!”
“Got a joke for you….Over in the pacific Isles there was a tribe and they discovered gold so they smeltered it and made a chair. One day the enemy approached in a long boat and the chief said hide the throne. The chief lived in a two story grass hut and told his tribe to put it upstairs. The enemy came in and said ‘Where’s your valuables?’ ‘We haven’t got anything!’ All of a sudden the grass floor couldn’t support the weight of the chair and it came crashing down. The enemy stole it and rowed off.
The moral of the story is People who live in grass houses shouldn’t stow thrones.”