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Coop
Guest
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 Posted: Fri Apr 27, 2007 7:37 pm Post subject: Dawn Service |
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|
The Old Man's 87 now and if he's around for many more ANZAC days it'll
be a miracle. If congestive heart failure doesn't get him, then he'll
probably be shot by a jealous suitor. He and his brother (a sprightly
82, but his short-term memory's a bit sus these days) recently got
back from a cruise through the Pacific where they focussed on
squandering our inheritance and playing up a bit and my dad had to
spend a few days in hospital afterwards getting over it.
So I figured I'd better go to a dawn service with the old fella seeing
as there may not be too many more chances. He was a sailor in WWII and
finished up as an anti-aircraft gunner on the "Gascoyne", a frigate
serving convoy and escort duties in the pacific.
A consultation with my sister revealed that she was taking the service
at American River and the old man was going with her. So I figured I'd
fly down the afternoon before and stay the night with her.
All this was decided in a bit of a last-minute fashion, as there was
lots to do at home after being away for nearly three weeks. I'd
dropped Dorothy's oil as soon as we got back, so I'd have to refill
the tank as well as topping up the fuel. The forecast looked a bit
questionable, but a consultation with the folks at the Met Bureau
reassured me that the wet weather we were all looking forward to
wouldn't arrive until later on Wednesday. However, I expected a long
flight back, battling probable northerlies to get home. (By the way, I
often telephone the met people- they are very helpful in filling out
the details for fair-weather aviators such as myself).
I finally got away from the house at about 3:00pm, filled up two
jerries and headed for the hangar- a 45 minute drive- with one eye on
the clock. Figured I'd have to be airborne by 4:15 at the latest and
get a tail wind (which was forecast) to make Kingscote with a fair
margin over last light, which was going to happen at about 5:30, ready
or not.
Replacing the drain plug and lockwiring it took about 5 minutes,
refilling the oil tank and topping off the fuel another five minutes,
and I spent 10 minutes on the preflight and loading. Dragging Dorothy
out of the hangar, driving the car in and shutting the doors used
another five minutes, and the start-up and taxiing used up the last
few minutes. I was airborne by 4:15, but only just.
Fortunately the forecast wind was as strong as predicted and we
galloped down the peninsula at a steady 110 knots. Throwing caution to
the winds, we crossed the ditch at 3,500' instead of the usual 4,500,
noting the position of the ferry as we did so. The air was full of
smoke from local burn-offs, and visibility was quite poor. When we
turned west for Kingscote, the speed dropped back to 95 knots, but by
then we were ahead of the game and we landed at 5:09- only 54 minutes
after takeoff, and about 20 minutes before last light. The sun dropped
below the horizon as I was pegging Dorothy down for the night.
The following morning at about 5:00am I helped sis get the old man and
one of his neighbours, both resplendent in their medals, into the car
and we set off for American River, a small settlement near the eastern
end of Kangaroo Island.
The memorial at American River is a modest little strucure about 10
feet high on a small patch of lawn behind a car park, with an
associated flagpole. In common with many such memorials all around the
country, you normally wouldn't give it a second glance as you went
past. However, some thoughtful souls had placed clear plastic 2-litre
milk containers, cut in half and fitted with candles, all around the
car park and the memorial itself, presumably to help illuminate the
way for those present who were not as nimble as they used to be. This,
combined with the effect of the pale early morning light, and the
muffled sounds of the three-dozen or so people gathering nearby, gave
the place a sombre formality.
The service was brief, the wreaths were laid, the bugler managed his
part without too many off notes, and the bagpiper produced a tune
which captured a sense of the mourning associated with the occasion.
This tiny gathering, in this nondescript setting, was being repeated
as the sun rose all over the country this day. There were no
politicians pontificating, no grand martial displays or huge choirs or
impressive fly-bys, just a bunch of ordinary people keeping faith with
the promise they made never to forget what others had done for them. I
reflected that this was the real core of the ANZAC day tradition.
When it was all over we wandered over to the local health centre for a
cuppa and a piece of toast. I discovered that I knew the bagpiper- he
owned a Cessna and had purchased a Mustang kit, and we spent some time
chatting about matters aeronatical. Then it was time to run Dad back
home for a rest before his major event later that day- taking the
salute at the local march-past (he was president of the local branch
of the RSL this year).
Clouds were gathering in the west, so it was time for me to get going.
The forecast suggested I might get a minimal headwind if I went high,
so I urged Dorothy up to 4,500' for the run home. Imagine my surprise
when I saw a groundspeed of 97 knots after levelling out! The wind at
the home base was a strong northeasterly (yes, and I had a tailwind
when flying northeast at 4,500') which generated considerable
turbulence as it came over the ridge alongside our strip. The landing
was a bit of a wrestling match, with the wind tugging Dorothy in all
directions and me waving the stick all over the place, but we managed
to get down without too many bounces.
When I got home, I rang sis to cancel SAR, and mentioned the tailwind
both ways. "I was praying for you to have a safe flight" she said, as
if this was what was expected. Now on a scale of zero to 10, with zero
meaning no religion and 10 meaning rabidly evangelical, sis rates
about an 8, so her comments didn't surprise me, but as I hung up I
couldn't help wondering if there's more to her faith than meets the
eye.....
Coop |
|
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|
 |
YSCBen
Guest
|
| Posted: Sat Apr 28, 2007 4:31 am Post subject: Re: Dawn Service |
|
|
Coop wrote:
| Quote: | The Old Man's 87 now and if he's around for many more ANZAC days it'll
be a miracle. If congestive heart failure doesn't get him, then he'll
probably be shot by a jealous suitor. He and his brother (a sprightly
82, but his short-term memory's a bit sus these days) recently got
back from a cruise through the Pacific where they focussed on
squandering our inheritance and playing up a bit and my dad had to
spend a few days in hospital afterwards getting over it.
So I figured I'd better go to a dawn service with the old fella seeing
as there may not be too many more chances. He was a sailor in WWII and
finished up as an anti-aircraft gunner on the "Gascoyne", a frigate
serving convoy and escort duties in the pacific.
A consultation with my sister revealed that she was taking the service
at American River and the old man was going with her. So I figured I'd
fly down the afternoon before and stay the night with her.
All this was decided in a bit of a last-minute fashion, as there was
lots to do at home after being away for nearly three weeks. I'd
dropped Dorothy's oil as soon as we got back, so I'd have to refill
the tank as well as topping up the fuel. The forecast looked a bit
questionable, but a consultation with the folks at the Met Bureau
reassured me that the wet weather we were all looking forward to
wouldn't arrive until later on Wednesday. However, I expected a long
flight back, battling probable northerlies to get home. (By the way, I
often telephone the met people- they are very helpful in filling out
the details for fair-weather aviators such as myself).
I finally got away from the house at about 3:00pm, filled up two
jerries and headed for the hangar- a 45 minute drive- with one eye on
the clock. Figured I'd have to be airborne by 4:15 at the latest and
get a tail wind (which was forecast) to make Kingscote with a fair
margin over last light, which was going to happen at about 5:30, ready
or not.
Replacing the drain plug and lockwiring it took about 5 minutes,
refilling the oil tank and topping off the fuel another five minutes,
and I spent 10 minutes on the preflight and loading. Dragging Dorothy
out of the hangar, driving the car in and shutting the doors used
another five minutes, and the start-up and taxiing used up the last
few minutes. I was airborne by 4:15, but only just.
Fortunately the forecast wind was as strong as predicted and we
galloped down the peninsula at a steady 110 knots. Throwing caution to
the winds, we crossed the ditch at 3,500' instead of the usual 4,500,
noting the position of the ferry as we did so. The air was full of
smoke from local burn-offs, and visibility was quite poor. When we
turned west for Kingscote, the speed dropped back to 95 knots, but by
then we were ahead of the game and we landed at 5:09- only 54 minutes
after takeoff, and about 20 minutes before last light. The sun dropped
below the horizon as I was pegging Dorothy down for the night.
The following morning at about 5:00am I helped sis get the old man and
one of his neighbours, both resplendent in their medals, into the car
and we set off for American River, a small settlement near the eastern
end of Kangaroo Island.
The memorial at American River is a modest little strucure about 10
feet high on a small patch of lawn behind a car park, with an
associated flagpole. In common with many such memorials all around the
country, you normally wouldn't give it a second glance as you went
past. However, some thoughtful souls had placed clear plastic 2-litre
milk containers, cut in half and fitted with candles, all around the
car park and the memorial itself, presumably to help illuminate the
way for those present who were not as nimble as they used to be. This,
combined with the effect of the pale early morning light, and the
muffled sounds of the three-dozen or so people gathering nearby, gave
the place a sombre formality.
The service was brief, the wreaths were laid, the bugler managed his
part without too many off notes, and the bagpiper produced a tune
which captured a sense of the mourning associated with the occasion.
This tiny gathering, in this nondescript setting, was being repeated
as the sun rose all over the country this day. There were no
politicians pontificating, no grand martial displays or huge choirs or
impressive fly-bys, just a bunch of ordinary people keeping faith with
the promise they made never to forget what others had done for them. I
reflected that this was the real core of the ANZAC day tradition.
When it was all over we wandered over to the local health centre for a
cuppa and a piece of toast. I discovered that I knew the bagpiper- he
owned a Cessna and had purchased a Mustang kit, and we spent some time
chatting about matters aeronatical. Then it was time to run Dad back
home for a rest before his major event later that day- taking the
salute at the local march-past (he was president of the local branch
of the RSL this year).
Clouds were gathering in the west, so it was time for me to get going.
The forecast suggested I might get a minimal headwind if I went high,
so I urged Dorothy up to 4,500' for the run home. Imagine my surprise
when I saw a groundspeed of 97 knots after levelling out! The wind at
the home base was a strong northeasterly (yes, and I had a tailwind
when flying northeast at 4,500') which generated considerable
turbulence as it came over the ridge alongside our strip. The landing
was a bit of a wrestling match, with the wind tugging Dorothy in all
directions and me waving the stick all over the place, but we managed
to get down without too many bounces.
When I got home, I rang sis to cancel SAR, and mentioned the tailwind
both ways. "I was praying for you to have a safe flight" she said, as
if this was what was expected. Now on a scale of zero to 10, with zero
meaning no religion and 10 meaning rabidly evangelical, sis rates
about an 8, so her comments didn't surprise me, but as I hung up I
couldn't help wondering if there's more to her faith than meets the
eye.....
Coop
A good story Coop. Your ANZAC day event was quite a contrast from what |
we saw in Canberra with all the pomp and ceremony that accompanies such
formal occasions. Maybe your sister's intervention strategy would have
helped the three Hawk trainers arrive on time for their flypast!  |
|
| Back to top |
|
|
Woody
Guest
|
| Posted: Sat Apr 28, 2007 4:38 am Post subject: Re: Dawn Service |
|
|
Coop wrote:
| Quote: | The Old Man's 87 now and if he's around for many more ANZAC days it'll
be a miracle. If congestive heart failure doesn't get him, then he'll
probably be shot by a jealous suitor. He and his brother (a sprightly
82, but his short-term memory's a bit sus these days) recently got
back from a cruise through the Pacific where they focussed on
squandering our inheritance and playing up a bit and my dad had to
spend a few days in hospital afterwards getting over it.
So I figured I'd better go to a dawn service with the old fella seeing
as there may not be too many more chances. He was a sailor in WWII and
finished up as an anti-aircraft gunner on the "Gascoyne", a frigate
serving convoy and escort duties in the pacific.
A consultation with my sister revealed that she was taking the service
at American River and the old man was going with her. So I figured I'd
fly down the afternoon before and stay the night with her.
All this was decided in a bit of a last-minute fashion, as there was
lots to do at home after being away for nearly three weeks. I'd
dropped Dorothy's oil as soon as we got back, so I'd have to refill
the tank as well as topping up the fuel. The forecast looked a bit
questionable, but a consultation with the folks at the Met Bureau
reassured me that the wet weather we were all looking forward to
wouldn't arrive until later on Wednesday. However, I expected a long
flight back, battling probable northerlies to get home. (By the way, I
often telephone the met people- they are very helpful in filling out
the details for fair-weather aviators such as myself).
I finally got away from the house at about 3:00pm, filled up two
jerries and headed for the hangar- a 45 minute drive- with one eye on
the clock. Figured I'd have to be airborne by 4:15 at the latest and
get a tail wind (which was forecast) to make Kingscote with a fair
margin over last light, which was going to happen at about 5:30, ready
or not.
Replacing the drain plug and lockwiring it took about 5 minutes,
refilling the oil tank and topping off the fuel another five minutes,
and I spent 10 minutes on the preflight and loading. Dragging Dorothy
out of the hangar, driving the car in and shutting the doors used
another five minutes, and the start-up and taxiing used up the last
few minutes. I was airborne by 4:15, but only just.
Fortunately the forecast wind was as strong as predicted and we
galloped down the peninsula at a steady 110 knots. Throwing caution to
the winds, we crossed the ditch at 3,500' instead of the usual 4,500,
noting the position of the ferry as we did so. The air was full of
smoke from local burn-offs, and visibility was quite poor. When we
turned west for Kingscote, the speed dropped back to 95 knots, but by
then we were ahead of the game and we landed at 5:09- only 54 minutes
after takeoff, and about 20 minutes before last light. The sun dropped
below the horizon as I was pegging Dorothy down for the night.
The following morning at about 5:00am I helped sis get the old man and
one of his neighbours, both resplendent in their medals, into the car
and we set off for American River, a small settlement near the eastern
end of Kangaroo Island.
The memorial at American River is a modest little strucure about 10
feet high on a small patch of lawn behind a car park, with an
associated flagpole. In common with many such memorials all around the
country, you normally wouldn't give it a second glance as you went
past. However, some thoughtful souls had placed clear plastic 2-litre
milk containers, cut in half and fitted with candles, all around the
car park and the memorial itself, presumably to help illuminate the
way for those present who were not as nimble as they used to be. This,
combined with the effect of the pale early morning light, and the
muffled sounds of the three-dozen or so people gathering nearby, gave
the place a sombre formality.
The service was brief, the wreaths were laid, the bugler managed his
part without too many off notes, and the bagpiper produced a tune
which captured a sense of the mourning associated with the occasion.
This tiny gathering, in this nondescript setting, was being repeated
as the sun rose all over the country this day. There were no
politicians pontificating, no grand martial displays or huge choirs or
impressive fly-bys, just a bunch of ordinary people keeping faith with
the promise they made never to forget what others had done for them. I
reflected that this was the real core of the ANZAC day tradition.
When it was all over we wandered over to the local health centre for a
cuppa and a piece of toast. I discovered that I knew the bagpiper- he
owned a Cessna and had purchased a Mustang kit, and we spent some time
chatting about matters aeronatical. Then it was time to run Dad back
home for a rest before his major event later that day- taking the
salute at the local march-past (he was president of the local branch
of the RSL this year).
Clouds were gathering in the west, so it was time for me to get going.
The forecast suggested I might get a minimal headwind if I went high,
so I urged Dorothy up to 4,500' for the run home. Imagine my surprise
when I saw a groundspeed of 97 knots after levelling out! The wind at
the home base was a strong northeasterly (yes, and I had a tailwind
when flying northeast at 4,500') which generated considerable
turbulence as it came over the ridge alongside our strip. The landing
was a bit of a wrestling match, with the wind tugging Dorothy in all
directions and me waving the stick all over the place, but we managed
to get down without too many bounces.
When I got home, I rang sis to cancel SAR, and mentioned the tailwind
both ways. "I was praying for you to have a safe flight" she said, as
if this was what was expected. Now on a scale of zero to 10, with zero
meaning no religion and 10 meaning rabidly evangelical, sis rates
about an 8, so her comments didn't surprise me, but as I hung up I
couldn't help wondering if there's more to her faith than meets the
eye.....
Coop
Well Done THat Man! |
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
Scenic
Guest
|
| Posted: Sat Apr 28, 2007 4:49 am Post subject: Re: Dawn Service |
|
|
YSCBen wrote:
| Quote: | A good story Coop. Your ANZAC day event was quite a contrast from what
we saw in Canberra with all the pomp and ceremony that accompanies such
formal occasions. Maybe your sister's intervention strategy would have
helped the three Hawk trainers arrive on time for their flypast!
|
If they had arrived on time they would have upset the overall programme
which was obviously somewhat delayed. I could hear them taking off from
Fairbairn, and then they went wandering around the outer reaches of
Belconnen to soak up some time before coming in over the western part of
the lake. Actually, putting three Hawks in the air was pretty wet. They
should have got TAM to send a Spit over, or even the Boomerang. The Hawks
were almost gone before they arrived. It's a nothing spectacular. |
|
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|
|
Nick O'Tyme
Guest
|
| Posted: Sat Apr 28, 2007 6:10 am Post subject: Re: Dawn Service |
|
|
"Coop" <vhbdq (AT) chariotnose (DOT) netwheel.au> wrote in message
news:klt333ptqdiq95ml71gfkgrh48dpari49a (AT) 4ax (DOT) com...
| Quote: |
When I got home, I rang sis to cancel SAR, and mentioned the tailwind
both ways. "I was praying for you to have a safe flight" she said, as
if this was what was expected. Now on a scale of zero to 10, with zero
meaning no religion and 10 meaning rabidly evangelical, sis rates
about an 8, so her comments didn't surprise me, but as I hung up I
couldn't help wondering if there's more to her faith than meets the
eye.....
Coop
|
As someone who rates a zero I'm still prepared to accept I may be wrong. Is
that what they call fence sitting?
Then again it may be just my mood at the mo. Mum had a stroke and isn't
expected to last much longer.
Cheers
Cyril |
|
| Back to top |
|
|
veritas
Guest
|
| Posted: Sat Apr 28, 2007 6:10 am Post subject: Re: Dawn Service |
|
|
Nick O'Tyme wrote:
| Quote: |
Then again it may be just my mood at the mo. Mum had a stroke and isn't
expected to last much longer.
|
Sorry to hear about your mum. My brother (stroke victim) is being
buried at Fawkner on Monday.... |
|
| Back to top |
|
|
Aubrey Adams
Guest
|
| Posted: Sat Apr 28, 2007 3:59 pm Post subject: Re: Dawn Service |
|
|
"Coop" <vhbdq (AT) chariotnose (DOT) netwheel.au> wrote in message
news:klt333ptqdiq95ml71gfkgrh48dpari49a (AT) 4ax (DOT) com...
| Quote: | The Old Man's 87 now and if he's around for many more ANZAC days it'll
be a miracle. If congestive heart failure doesn't get him, then he'll
probably be shot by a jealous suitor. He and his brother (a sprightly
82, but his short-term memory's a bit sus these days) recently got
back from a cruise through the Pacific where they focussed on
squandering our inheritance and playing up a bit and my dad had to
spend a few days in hospital afterwards getting over it.
So I figured I'd better go to a dawn service with the old fella seeing
as there may not be too many more chances. He was a sailor in WWII and
finished up as an anti-aircraft gunner on the "Gascoyne", a frigate
serving convoy and escort duties in the pacific.
A consultation with my sister revealed that she was taking the service
at American River and the old man was going with her. So I figured I'd
fly down the afternoon before and stay the night with her.
All this was decided in a bit of a last-minute fashion, as there was
lots to do at home after being away for nearly three weeks. I'd
dropped Dorothy's oil as soon as we got back, so I'd have to refill
the tank as well as topping up the fuel. The forecast looked a bit
questionable, but a consultation with the folks at the Met Bureau
reassured me that the wet weather we were all looking forward to
wouldn't arrive until later on Wednesday. However, I expected a long
flight back, battling probable northerlies to get home. (By the way, I
often telephone the met people- they are very helpful in filling out
the details for fair-weather aviators such as myself).
I finally got away from the house at about 3:00pm, filled up two
jerries and headed for the hangar- a 45 minute drive- with one eye on
the clock. Figured I'd have to be airborne by 4:15 at the latest and
get a tail wind (which was forecast) to make Kingscote with a fair
margin over last light, which was going to happen at about 5:30, ready
or not.
Replacing the drain plug and lockwiring it took about 5 minutes,
refilling the oil tank and topping off the fuel another five minutes,
and I spent 10 minutes on the preflight and loading. Dragging Dorothy
out of the hangar, driving the car in and shutting the doors used
another five minutes, and the start-up and taxiing used up the last
few minutes. I was airborne by 4:15, but only just.
Fortunately the forecast wind was as strong as predicted and we
galloped down the peninsula at a steady 110 knots. Throwing caution to
the winds, we crossed the ditch at 3,500' instead of the usual 4,500,
noting the position of the ferry as we did so. The air was full of
smoke from local burn-offs, and visibility was quite poor. When we
turned west for Kingscote, the speed dropped back to 95 knots, but by
then we were ahead of the game and we landed at 5:09- only 54 minutes
after takeoff, and about 20 minutes before last light. The sun dropped
below the horizon as I was pegging Dorothy down for the night.
The following morning at about 5:00am I helped sis get the old man and
one of his neighbours, both resplendent in their medals, into the car
and we set off for American River, a small settlement near the eastern
end of Kangaroo Island.
The memorial at American River is a modest little strucure about 10
feet high on a small patch of lawn behind a car park, with an
associated flagpole. In common with many such memorials all around the
country, you normally wouldn't give it a second glance as you went
past. However, some thoughtful souls had placed clear plastic 2-litre
milk containers, cut in half and fitted with candles, all around the
car park and the memorial itself, presumably to help illuminate the
way for those present who were not as nimble as they used to be. This,
combined with the effect of the pale early morning light, and the
muffled sounds of the three-dozen or so people gathering nearby, gave
the place a sombre formality.
The service was brief, the wreaths were laid, the bugler managed his
part without too many off notes, and the bagpiper produced a tune
which captured a sense of the mourning associated with the occasion.
This tiny gathering, in this nondescript setting, was being repeated
as the sun rose all over the country this day. There were no
politicians pontificating, no grand martial displays or huge choirs or
impressive fly-bys, just a bunch of ordinary people keeping faith with
the promise they made never to forget what others had done for them. I
reflected that this was the real core of the ANZAC day tradition.
When it was all over we wandered over to the local health centre for a
cuppa and a piece of toast. I discovered that I knew the bagpiper- he
owned a Cessna and had purchased a Mustang kit, and we spent some time
chatting about matters aeronatical. Then it was time to run Dad back
home for a rest before his major event later that day- taking the
salute at the local march-past (he was president of the local branch
of the RSL this year).
Clouds were gathering in the west, so it was time for me to get going.
The forecast suggested I might get a minimal headwind if I went high,
so I urged Dorothy up to 4,500' for the run home. Imagine my surprise
when I saw a groundspeed of 97 knots after levelling out! The wind at
the home base was a strong northeasterly (yes, and I had a tailwind
when flying northeast at 4,500') which generated considerable
turbulence as it came over the ridge alongside our strip. The landing
was a bit of a wrestling match, with the wind tugging Dorothy in all
directions and me waving the stick all over the place, but we managed
to get down without too many bounces.
When I got home, I rang sis to cancel SAR, and mentioned the tailwind
both ways. "I was praying for you to have a safe flight" she said, as
if this was what was expected. Now on a scale of zero to 10, with zero
meaning no religion and 10 meaning rabidly evangelical, sis rates
about an 8, so her comments didn't surprise me, but as I hung up I
couldn't help wondering if there's more to her faith than meets the
eye.....
Coop
|
Masterful - thanks for that Coop |
|
| Back to top |
|
|
RT
Guest
|
| Posted: Sat Apr 28, 2007 4:14 pm Post subject: Re: Dawn Service |
|
|
"Aubrey Adams" <eaadamsRE (AT) MOVEiinet (DOT) net.au> wrote in message
news:463328ff$0$17204$5a62ac22@per-qv1-newsreader-01.iinet.net.au...
| Quote: |
"Coop" <vhbdq (AT) chariotnose (DOT) netwheel.au> wrote in message
news:klt333ptqdiq95ml71gfkgrh48dpari49a (AT) 4ax (DOT) com...
eye.....
Coop
Masterful - thanks for that Coop
|
I have no beef with the original post.
I DO have a beef with a respondent that adds 6 words without trimming ANY of
the 7KB original post.
Maybe I'm biased because I'm on dial-up?
Or maybe I'm just pissed by lazy posters..... |
|
| Back to top |
|
|
NickC
Guest
|
| Posted: Sat Apr 28, 2007 7:26 pm Post subject: Re: Dawn Service |
|
|
Scenic wrote on 28 Apr 2007:
| Quote: | in the air was pretty wet. They should have got TAM to send a Spit
over, or even the Boomerang.
|
Would have been nice. I think Temora make it a rule not to fly over
populated areas. Their newsletter mentioned they made a specific
exemption when they sent the Spitfire over Sydney to commemorate
Gibbes.
--
Nick |
|
| Back to top |
|
|
Peter Fanelli
Guest
|
| Posted: Sat Apr 28, 2007 8:31 pm Post subject: Re: Dawn Service |
|
|
"RT" <notr.thomas (AT) nowhere (DOT) com.au> wrote in
news:59gokdF2jks3eU1 (AT) mid (DOT) individual.net:
trimmed to the bone.
| Quote: | Maybe I'm biased because I'm on dial-up?
|
What's dial up? |
|
| Back to top |
|
|
Graeme Hogan
Guest
|
| Posted: Sun Apr 29, 2007 2:43 am Post subject: Re: Dawn Service |
|
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"Peter Fanelli" <fanelli (AT) bellsouth (DOT) removeme.net> wrote in message
news:Xns99206B2D74062fanellibellsouthnet (AT) 216 (DOT) 77.188.18...
| Quote: | "RT" <notr.thomas (AT) nowhere (DOT) com.au> wrote in
news:59gokdF2jks3eU1 (AT) mid (DOT) individual.net:
trimmed to the bone.
Maybe I'm biased because I'm on dial-up?
What's dial up?
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You remember, Dinosaurs, Do-Dos, Dial-up. |
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Peter Fanelli
Guest
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| Posted: Mon May 21, 2007 7:10 pm Post subject: Re: Dawn Service |
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Stealth Pilot <notransponder (AT) aeroplanes (DOT) com.au> wrote in
news:b733539795rpv44gbervufcmr21cngck6b (AT) 4ax (DOT) com:
| Quote: | On Sun, 29 Apr 2007 07:43:49 +1000, "Graeme Hogan"
ghogan01 (AT) optusnet (DOT) com.au> wrote:
"Peter Fanelli" <fanelli (AT) bellsouth (DOT) removeme.net> wrote in message
news:Xns99206B2D74062fanellibellsouthnet (AT) 216 (DOT) 77.188.18...
"RT" <notr.thomas (AT) nowhere (DOT) com.au> wrote in
news:59gokdF2jks3eU1 (AT) mid (DOT) individual.net:
trimmed to the bone.
Maybe I'm biased because I'm on dial-up?
What's dial up? :)
You remember, Dinosaurs, Do-Dos, Dial-up.
real people who have lives use dial up.
wankers who have nothing else to do are on line all the time.
Stealth Pilot
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ummm, yeah ok |
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