As we walk up to an old stone Quorn church built in 1880…
“Owyer goin Ron?”
“Really well for an old bloke.”
“Nah, you ain’t old, just slow moving. Meet my brother. He is here to help repair this guttering.”
“Oh yeah? Where are you from?”
“Sydney?”
“Sydney?! To repair the gutter.”
“All the way.”
“Well, I’ll be. Whatya reckon we need to do Franko?”
“You need to get your other ladder. While you are doing that I’ll get up and cut out the rotten section.”
“Righto. You boys from Sydney good for handling the gutter?”
“Under Franko’s supervision, we’re just the lads.”
“Righto, I’ll leave you to it. (He shuffles off at the speed of a small town 70 year old).”
(Franko then asks “Whatya think we need to do with this?)
“Haha, let’s have a look.”
“Ouch, not a two meter chop, more like four.”
“Let’s get rid of all of it.”
(Fast forward through cutting and grinding. Introduce elderly gent number two who walks up the street to see what the noise is about.)
“Owyergoing boys?”
He has a smile on his face, a firm handshake and dark glasses. And a dry sense of humour. He introduces himself as Eric.
“We are extra good Eric. Just sorted the gutter.”
“Mmm, wondered about the noise. What are you doing with the debris?”
“Ron doesn’t know it yet but he is taking it to the tip.”
“Any reason why it can’t go into my trailer? It will save Ron a trip.”
“Ah, no reason at all.”
“Goodo boys. Its up the street behind the green fence.”
“No worries, we’ll drag it up there straight away.”
Don’t you just love small towns?
