The fifth day.

The Friday this week was quite filled.
Mother offered to help me on my newspaper deliveries this afternoon.
Whilst delivering a very weathered looking fellow called out to Mum from an above balcony.
What he said was unintelligible. I still grapple with understanding basic Australian.
And I hate to use the phrase 'hit on', but it may be absolutely necessary just this once.
So Mum just nodded and smiled after every sentence that was belted out by this unsightly nuisance.
He must have wondered, scratching his head so that a pile of fleas tumble forth, why Mother did not ascend the stairs to him, -nodding as she was all the time.

Another trifle worthy of recording.
I filled Dad's small liquor flask with his prized whisky.
He did not become angry when I gave him this pleasant news.
I had thought he would have become suspicious and question my motives.
Instead he was delighted with the idea of being able to 'freshen his breath' from time to time whenever it was needed.
Dear me, I think that small flask will be empty in no time.