A Man’s work is never finished.

26404_lsausages on white bread

A man’s work is never finished. (With pc addendum; neither is that of a woman).

Driving home yet again from a bout of grandchildren minding in Sydney we noticed a large solar lit sign heralding that Bunnings is having a ladies DIY evening next week. We all know that Bunnings stores are huge cavernous hard ware and tools emporiums. A venerable treasure trove of everything a man can possibly dream about, even more than he could ever imagine even including that which he, as yet, can’t imagine. The ‘not yet’ being able to imagine is not all that difficult for many men that visit hardware and tool stores. They tend to be of a more practical nature rather than of the creative or philosophical bend. Still, many a woman would rather have a man of the nails and hammer variety than someone moping around with Hegel or Kant. Mary knew a thing or two about that when chucking in her lot with a simple carpenter! What would we do without the cloth peg or safety pin?

We often visit Bunnings to buy punnets of blooms or bags of cow manure. I try and coincide this with a Saturday sausage sizzle that gets put on by the Lions Cub trying to raise money for good causes. I am always in awe of how many people do good for society rather than complain or ‘mecker’, they roll up sleeves and do something about society’s ills…The Saturday sausage sizzle at Bunnings sells two thin sausages with lovely fried brown onions between slices of white bread for just $2.-including a choice of different sauces and a paper napkin. I usually go for the American mustard as a kind of gesture of forgiveness or atonement for their Iraqi and Afghanistan involvement, after all, Australia did also get involved. No soul is pure when wars are waged. I hope my simple sausage, with the help of Lions Clubs, will lesson future wars.

H is not so keen on my cunningness to coincide with buying blooms and manure with two dollar Saturday sausages, no doubt considering my health and her fondness for staying beautiful and svelte. I often tell her that voluptuousness is one of the most desirable qualities I admire in a woman and especially in her. Oddly enough, it doesn’t always work and the bloom shopping is steered towards a Friday to coincide with two lean strips of fish fillet, even though we are not, strictly speaking, peoples of the cloth.

One lucky Saturday, while queuing for my sausage allocation at Bunnings a man before me had the gall to complain that his sausages were over cooked and demanded to get new ones for himself and his young son. His four sausages were nicely brown and had crispy and desirable skins as well. In short, they were the perfectly barbequed sausages that could not be faulted except by this miserable ‘meckerer’ of a man. The women running the gas fired barbeque wore head-scarves. They were very busy with many hungry ’nail and hammer men’ lining up. For some reason it reminded me back of my war Rotterdam soup kitchen days long ago when I lost temporarily the touch of my mother’s hand.  I was imprinted for life never to waste food. The man complaining about his sausages almost made me lose the will to go on. Quick as a flash I told the ladies that I would take the four sausages already bedded down within their comforting slices of white bread and garnished with the loving onion rings. I had trouble explaining to H the extravagance of the four sausages.  It had barbeque sauce instead of American mustard as well. It all looked a bit suspicious to her.

A small price to pay.

Tags: , , , ,

16 Responses to “A Man’s work is never finished.”

  1. Lottie Nevin Says:

    Gerard, I think this just maybe my favourite post of that I’ve read of yours so far.

    I live with a Kant man and though he claims to be handy with nails and a hammer, I have yet to see the evidence (It’s probably best that this truth remains strictly between ourselves ok?)

    However, consumption of sausages is something I’ve seen much evidence of, though these days, living as we are in the largest Islamic nation in the world, pork sausages are rarer than hens teeth so sausage eating is now left for high days and holidays back in the UK. I’m afraid that chicken or beef sausages just do not cut the mustard.


  2. gerard oosterman Says:

    Glad you enjoyed this post. I am handy and familiar with both Kant and a hammer. I sometimes lust after a nice Nasi Ramas or Bami Goreng.

    Immanuel Kant:If man makes himself a worm he must not complain when he is trodden on.


  3. kaytisweetlandrasmussen83 Says:

    Kant is ever wise and witty. The sausages look delicious. I can almost smell how good they are! Even the mustard!


    • gerard oosterman Says:

      Thank you for sharing Immanuel Kant and sausages.
      Kant’s philosophy which clearly states that: ” if man behaves like a worm, he will be trodden upon”. The man who complained about the sausages clearly fits the worm analogy of a Kant’s message. Another quote of Kant is: Ingratitude is the essence of vileness


  4. Intricate Knot Says:

    I was raised the same and would have snapped up those sausages, too! Lovely post, Gerard! It made me smile.


  5. gerard oosterman Says:

    Hello Intricate Knot. So glad you are an aficionado of the sausage and fairness as well.

    Only yesterday while walking home from Bowral I detected the delicious olfactory barbecued sausage. Sure enough taking some steps back I detected a sausage sizzle going on at St Judes church for good cause fund raising.

    H denied the pleasure when, out of pure goodness, I offered her one sausage between white bread, as well as with American mustard.
    However, and this is so typical; after I took one bite of mine with sausage glistening in its full glory, she changed her mind. “I’ll have one too”, she said while avoiding my quizzical gaze.
    I gallantly offered her mine and I had to queue up again for another one for my own pleasure this time..


  6. frangipani Says:

    Hi, Gerard. I’m using your blog as a post-it note for Helvi (sorry about that) because I’m not game to go back on BE’s blog and comment on something she said there.

    She’s got no interest in visiting WA – she should rethink that. I don’t think you can understand this country until you’ve been in the Kimberley, and places like it – talked to station owners, local business people, aborigines, and listened to what they have to say about government, economics and business in general.

    I also, and here’s the plus, don’t think you have “tasted” the best of Australia until you’ve been south of Perth and checked out the wines, the olives and all the other speciality foods the region has to offer. And there is no finer tree in this country than the karri.


    • helvityni Says:

      Hi Frangipani, no offence meant…I have friends in Perth, they are Canadian as well, they moved there years ago and love it. You have made me change my unfair opinion about the place, and maybe we will visit the place in future, Gerard loved everything about Margaret River… I have not seen Adelaide either, maybe a combo visit.

      BE is sacking everybody,if he is not careful, he’ll end up with only DQ… 🙂


  7. gerard oosterman Says:

    Hello Frangipani;
    Fully understand you not wanting to go to BE again. He can be a bit of a tyrant.
    Helvi and I arrived in Fremantle on a Sunday back in 1966 from Finland, recently married. It wasn’t a good introduction then. It was all so empty and dead. No people. It was like that in 1956 before as well when our family arrived, on a Sunday and no life visible. First impressions are so vital.
    However, I was there in the eighties on a trip to Margareth River and Albany with a friend who was writing about lighthouses in Australia. It was an eye opener and we visted Cullen’s Estate and met the wine maker/ owners whose daughter ended up introducing modern wine making to France. We feasted on lovely food and some of the best wines met lovely people.

    I also saw those majestic Karri trees. Amazing and still etched in my mind. Fremantle had improved as well. I think the American cup did a lot to put Fremantle on the map.
    Perth I remember as an endless city stretched over miles and miles, never ending driving, finally making it to a pub where we bought those jugs of lovely cold beer.
    I think Helvi might write something here as well.


  8. frangipani Says:

    I’ve got a step-son and his family in Perth, so we visit them from time to time – and while Perth doesn’t ring any bells for me, the south of the country is wonderful. Full of vineyards and little foody delights, not to mention some very interesting walks. We’ve stayed in Albany, Pemberton and Margaret River, and loved the last two in particular. We’ve also done a tour through the Kimberley, which was truly an eye-opener in many ways – didn’t realise how rough the country is, how remote, how tough you have to be to make a living up there. And how much infrastructure would have to be built before that region or the NT could ever become the proverbial food bowl.

    I actually quite like Freo – maybe it was, as you say, the America’s Cup, but it’s got quite an interesting “vibe” these days, and, again, some good restaurants. And the market is worth a squizz too. But it’s the south that really is worth a visit. Helvi, you gotta go!

    Sorry, didn’t mean to intrude on your blog, but I do have a soft spot for WA, and I hope you can both get there one of these days and maybe revise Helvi’s opinion!


  9. paul walter Says:

    Oh dear…am reminded that my once-decadely visit to Bunnings is ominously close, dam you!
    Of all the reasons I am not married, compulsory visits to Bunnings must rank exceed all the rest.
    Sausage sizzles tho..
    How can it be if the onion is not limp through over cooking and drowned in fat, a sausage sizzle?
    There is a church between me and Hindmarsh stad, where we go to watch the Reds play and where the good wives gather at a barbecue to hawk these things to unsuspecting fans on the way to the match- mugged as it were.
    And the rules are: Sausages are either cooked to charcoal OR still three quarters raw, onions are never more than a few threads of limp seaweedy greasy stuff, to be drowned in tomato sauce, with mission not accomplished till the stuff has leaked over your hands clothes and shoes.
    Oh glorious Aussie cuisine!


    • gerard oosterman Says:

      Hello Paul,

      How nice to see you here gracing my simple words . I like the Aussie cuisine of bare ingredients. My mum used to say;” If you are hungry, raw beans taste the sweetest.”
      One has to be very hungry for accepting a sausage sizzle with limp onions. There is nothing like it, especially on a hot day but in the shade of a large tree with the lovely H and Milo looking on with expectations. (Milo is our Jack Russell.)


    • helvityni Says:

      … Paul, Bunnings and sausage sizzles are my crosses to bear, his to be bored s***less, when I pop into nurseries, secondhand bookshops or when I ‘ quickly’ rummage the markets for pre- loved designer gear…


      • paul walter Says:

        Am familiar with the torments you describe from personal experience, Helvi.
        Do you steal plants from gardens?
        What has Gerard got against dogs?
        Although, I suppose Australians and dogs share the same trait, they’ll eat any sh-t, provided its malprocessed and either gratuitously under or over cooked.
        In fact am reminded dogs do worse, have a reasonable excuse, but what hope of mitigation for most aussies…


      • helvityni Says:

        Not plants, but I do nick some cuttings; it’s an old Finnish custom, it’s OK to do that and plants grown from ‘stolen’ cuttings are supposed to thrive…mine do.

        That’s one ‘crime’ we are allowed commit.


  10. paul walter Says:

    Heartwarming, the quaint customs of the old country.
    You should be like me.
    Never pilfers, never tells fibs…


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: