Like father like daughter

I'm turning into my father. (See picture.)

If it was his admirable attributes I was acquiring then I wouldn't be concerned in the slightest.

He is a man of honesty, integrity, loyalty and passion.

But, I fear, that his dark side is becoming my dark side.

I, like my father, am the quintessential bad sport.

You see, football, is determining my state of mind, and my state of mind tonight, is poor.

To say the least.

And what's worse, is that I'm less concerned about my side losing three on the trot, than I am about the arch enemy winning three on the trot.

While I know deep down that it's sheer arsey luck that the opposition have won their first three matches and that they will, inevitably, come crashing down to earth, I still hate to see them succeed.

Even for five minutes.

And mark my word, that's what it is. Five minutes. Not a second more.

What's more, I absolutely detest people who support my team, but say, "Oh well at least it's another WA team doing well. "

It's club football. Not state football. You dickheads

For the love of god learn some integrity. And while you're at it, some loyalty, honesty and passion.

Thank you and goodnight.

Credit where credit is due

Goon, boxy, chateau de cardboard, plonk or lady in a boat.

There's no denying it, the trusty old cask wine holds a special place in the heart of most Australians whether they admit it or not.

Australians drink more than 180 litres of cask wine a year.

I know it's not terribly high brow of me to blog about goon, but following the death of its inventor Thomas Angove last week, I thought a few words were in order.

South Australian winemaker Thomas Angove died aged 92. He invented the wine in a box in 1965.

What a legacy he's left.

My own personal experience occurred in 1998 somewhere in the Perth Hills. I say somewhere in the Perth Hills because after half a carton of fruity lexia I had no idea where I was.

It's been said that "fruity lexia makes you sexier." So true. I was HOT that February night. It's just a shame I was the only one who thought so.

The sexy theory wasn't the only one I'd worked on that day. "Eating's cheating" is another one that's ringing bells.

I was in Year 1o and at a party held by a boy in my class. For a teenage girl with low self esteem cask wine was a panacea.

I've never forgotten the kindness said year 10 boys sisters showed me that night. Holding my hair while I threw up in their parents bath.

Not that I've had a chance to forget. One of them is now married to one of Woody's best mates. (Perth. Capital city or small town?)

But my point is, who doesn't have a story similar to that? I reckon there's plenty and many worse than mine.

How many children have been conceived after a night on the goon? (I may have even been one of them? Or it could have been West Coast Coolers, not sure?)

Even now, many of my amazing women friends (although not my Kimberley mates- cask wine is banned there) have been seen doing the bottle shop walk of shame, quickly ducking into the bottlo after work, then ducking out again eyes down, cask tucked under the arm, praying they don't see anyone they know.

So as I sit here sipping (swigging) my glass of Vasse Felix white, thinking I'm all grown up, I salute you Thomas Angove.

May you Rest in Peace. And may the wine be plentiful!