OUG,

I did call my spade "a spade"...although I neglected to mention that the rest of it was bright pink with daisies painted on it - and "her" name is Gertrude....(only joking).

Actually it's just an ordinary spade and I use it to dig my vegie patch.

I wore jeans a lot - still do in fact...but nothing quite matches up to those tight flares I wore in the seventies. They were works of art : )

Mine still are Poirot. I still have a black shirt & white flared pants from the early 60s.

I should throw them out, all they do is remind me of how slim I once was.

*but nothing quite matches up to those tight flares I wore in the seventies. They were works of art : )*

Oh I am not so sure about that, Poirot. In the 70s, you would
have been a cute young teenager with perky breasts, I am sure that
you were a work of art :)

I am happy with the path we took.
Jokes and a laugh it has been fun.
I think we could have focused on the very worst but to what end?
Yabby and I share a defense that works, do not let the door hit you on the way out.
All male female relations ships will always be good and bad, except the lucky few.
Both sex's control, both expect, once me too, too much out of relation ships.
I no hurt intended, think some women end up hating men, because of unrealistic expectations.
Men have that problem too.
In the end, the strongest relation ships have an unspoken sharing of control, in many things.
Must admit,while I find it funny, my intention was to highlight the true controlling ones.
Small country villages are not all, picket fences and Rose gardens.
I love just as much as the early morning song of the Kookaburra or Magpie, the screamed get up here now!
And some times, if I am lucky, wharf Laborer words screamed at men.
She who must be obeyed is entertaining, from the other side of the fence.

Why thank you, Yabby - that will go into my top five for "Best Compliments I Have Received" : )

I have a photo circa 1975 of myself and three other girls ready to go to the school social - all of us dressed in meticulously ironed flares...and we all look superb in a seventies kinda way.

And I have Hasbeen's problem with a school blouse from the same period. I can still get it over my shoulders - but my chest these days seems to be of a completely different configuration - anyway it won't button up : )

Belly, your "She who must be obeyed" reminded me Of Rumpole (one of my favourite characters)...his missus is a perfect example of controlling woman....and yes there are plenty of those around.

Well, it is not just in the human population that these women cause trouble.

I have an old stallion, over 20, who has not been with a mare in many years. With a stallion I have tape electric fencing 3 metres inside my barb wire boundary fences, to avoid problems with neighbours horses.

My place is fenced into small 1 to 2 acre paddocks, & he can use about 6 of these safely.

My fairly new eastern neighbours, who are horse lovers not "horse people", put a new mare in their paddock beside the one the stallion was in, without telling me. Telling me is what horse people would do, so I could move the stallion.

This mare displayed much interest in the stallion, most mares are dreadful tarts that way. I noticed the silly old bugger was excited, & planned a move for him. Somewhere about this time a herd of kangaroos smashed the inner electric fences in 3 paddocks, [they often do], cutting the power, & allowing the stallion to the barb wire boundary fence. Unfortunately I did not notice this.

After preparing another paddock, when I went to get him, I found him on 3 legs, all tied up in the barb wire, with blood everywhere. The mare had got frightened, & run away. Fortunately, after cutting him out, I found the damage, [to him] was not too bad, but it took a couple of hours to clean him up.

I have just finished a couple of hours treating him this morning, & will be at it for the next couple of weeks. He is a sore & sorry Romeo, & I am now off to put the fence back together.

The moral of this story can only be, avoid those women, they are mostly trouble, & it's the bloke who gets hurt. I should have stuck with the white flared pants, I don't recall them getting me into this much trouble, but then my memory is fading a bit.