TWO MEN DANCING……

Having completed my turn into Hills Avenue and

gazing automatically ahead towards the veterinary

surgery, which was about half way to my destination, I

saw something that made me sit bolt-upright. Outside

the entrance of the vet’s were two men dancing!

‘What?’ My tranquil eyes snapped wide open and I

looked again. Although still far away, I could definitely

make out two men dancing. They were about the same

size and holding each other in an embrace while dancing

to the tempo of an imaginary English Waltz.

‘What is happening to me?’ I looked again, this time

squinting, yet there they were, still dancing! All the time

I was getting closer and seeing them more clearly. On

and on they danced, on the spot, in front of the entrance.

But having nearly reached the two, I suddenly noticed

that they were not two men, but one man and his Great

Dane! They were holding each other the same way:

upright, hands and paws at each other’s shoulder blades,

staring into each other’s eyes with utter concentration,

but neither saying a word. The man was rather elegantly

dressed in an expensive suit and his face was almost as

red as a stop sign from embarrassment and effort.

Wondering what the problem was with the two and

slowing down almost to a halt, I suddenly perceived the

true situation. The man was trying to get the Great Dane

into the veterinary surgery but the dog didn’t want to go.

Obviously the man had tried brutal force by positioning

his dog in the doorway and trying to push him through.

The dog had, in return, reared up on his hind legs and

got a hold of his master exactly the way he, himself, was

being held. Every time the man tried to push the dog

through the glass door into the waiting room, the big dog

took evasive action. Obviously, he was smarter than his

owner because every time the man tried to push him hard

against the door, he did not push back - oh no! Instead,

he quickly side-stepped so that the man found himself in

the doorway, with the dog on the footpath side!

So he had to resume his original position again, with

the dog in front of the door and him on the road-side.

Another push against his dog was parried again with

a side-step (actually a ‘Quick-Step’, as they teach in

dancing schools) and, once more, he found himself in the

doorway instead of his dog! A step forward, side-step,

reverse position and, again, round and round they went.

If it had been a dancing competition and somebody had

played the tune of the ‘Tennessee Waltz’ they would

have won a prize, for sure! They just kept looking at each

other very seriously whilst pirouetting on the spot.

I had to drive on and was long past the two when

I glanced into the rear vision mirror and saw that they

were still dancing. And they really did look like two men

dancing! Except one of the two had his trouser bottom

rather low, with spindly, unattractive, legs sticking out!

Peter Frederick

http://www.peterfrederick.org                                     http://www.life-on-the-road.com

A BOOK READING EVENT….

Peter Frederick

http://www.peterfrederick.org
http://www.life-on-the-road.com

AN INCREDIBLE ENCOUNTER.

(An excerpt from my book 'LIFE ON THE ROAD - a Salesman's Lot!')

Having completed my turn into Hills Avenue and

gazing automatically ahead towards the veterinary

surgery, which was about half way to my destination, I

saw something that made me sit bolt-upright. Outside

the entrance of the vet’s were two men dancing!

‘What?’ My tranquil eyes snapped wide open and I

looked again. Although still far away, I could definitely

make out two men dancing. They were about the same

size and holding each other in an embrace while dancing

to the tempo of an imaginary English Waltz.

‘What is happening to me?’ I looked again, this time

squinting, yet there they were, still dancing! All the time

I was getting closer and seeing them more clearly. On

and on they danced, on the spot, in front of the entrance.

But having nearly reached the two, I suddenly noticed

that they were not two men, but one man and his Great

Dane! They were holding each other the same way:

upright, hands and paws at each other’s shoulder blades,

staring into each other’s eyes with utter concentration,

but neither saying a word. The man was rather elegantly

dressed in an expensive suit and his face was almost as

red as a stop sign from embarrassment and effort.

Wondering what the problem was with the two and

slowing down almost to a halt, I suddenly perceived the

true situation. The man was trying to get the Great Dane

into the veterinary surgery but the dog didn’t want to go.

Obviously the man had tried brutal force by positioning

his dog in the doorway and trying to push him through.

The dog had, in return, reared up on his hind legs and

got a hold of his master exactly the way he, himself, was

being held. Every time the man tried to push the dog

through the glass door into the waiting room, the big dog

took evasive action. Obviously, he was smarter than his

owner because every time the man tried to push him hard

against the door, he did not push back - oh no! Instead,

he quickly side-stepped so that the man found himself in

the doorway, with the dog on the footpath side!

So he had to resume his original position again, with

the dog in front of the door and him on the road-side.

Another push against his dog was parried again with

a side-step (actually a ‘Quick-Step’, as they teach in

dancing schools) and, once more, he found himself in the

doorway instead of his dog! A step forward, side-step,

reverse position and, again, round and round they went.

If it had been a dancing competition and somebody had

played the tune of the ‘Tennessee Waltz’ they would

have won a prize for sure! They just kept looking at each

other very seriously whilst pirouetting on the spot.

I had to drive on and was long past the two when

I glanced into the rear vision mirror and saw that they

were still dancing. And they really did look like two men

dancing! Except one of the two had his trouser bottom

rather low, with spindly, unattractive, legs sticking out!

Peter Frederick

http://www.peterfrederick.org

http://www.life-on-the-road.com

COMMENTS FROM MY READERS........

....I'll vouch for that! What a wonderful journey Peter!

ELLY HAMILTON - MELBOURNE

I am the guy from Finland who you met briefly on, I think Oct 17, in Melbourne, at a book fair where I bought your book. This is just to let you know that I have read the book and that it did meet the expectations of being both entertaining and interesting.

MIKKO PIILI - FINLAND

I am enjoying the read, making me laugh. Always a good thing. Best wishes and thanks yet again.

DAN STOJANOVICH - MELBOURNE

Got your book, Life on the Road and absolutely loved it! What an insightful adventure. Great job, Peter!

KAYLIN McFARREN – USA.

May I invite you to download sample chapters from my websites and leave your comments here?

Peter Frederick

http://www.peterfrederick.org

http://www.life-on-the-road.com

TROUBLES ON A PLANE

Adjusting to the arctic temperatures of Sweden, after leaving Australia’s sweltering summer heat, was not easy. But I managed to acclimatise to these conditions very quickly. I had been sent to Sweden by the company I worked for to study the manufacturing methods and to learn about the PVC floor coverings that were produced there.

This was to help me be more informed so that I could assist my clients back home. It was a steep, yet enjoyable, learning period. Everything seemed so pleasant and fascinating during my stay in Sweden. My days were filled with meeting interesting people and inspecting pioneering manufacturing technologies.

But what really impressed me was the cleanliness. From their vast factories, in which the floors were tiled in a light colour, and the workers wore white socks, white wooden clogs and even white dustcoats.

On the last evening before leaving for home, I was invited to attend a banquet in which I was given an opportunity to thank everybody from the parent company, for their kindness and hospitality. Normally I would have been looking forward to such an event, but the newspapers had been reporting on a new kind of flu epidemic that was expected to spread all over Europe. It had started in England, where the first cases were already being treated in the hospitals.

This news alarmed me as I wanted to return to Australia in a healthy state so I could resume my job, as I was the company’s only Australian representative, covering the Victorian, Tasmanian and the Riverina areas of New South Wales, I could not afford to be sick, as there was no-one who could call on my customers.

The banquet was a glittering affair and the people were very amiable. I had the Swedish company official at my side during the entire evening; he kept introducing me to people and translated conversations, whenever this was necessary, but I found that most people I spoke to have a good command of the English language, albeit with a lovely Swedish lilt, and it was a pleasure to converse with them.

‘Please meet Mrs Sorensen, our Interior design consultant’ Sven, the interpreter, said with a magnanimous gesture towards a very tall and attractive lady. Elegant in her winter dress, blond hair and blue-eyes, and with a warm smile, she extended her hand. ‘How nice to finally meet you, Peter.’ Her English was perfect with only a slight accent, which made it sound more attractive.

‘My husband just came back from England yesterday, there is such an awful flu going round there, everybody is so very sick, it is absolutely dreadful!’ Horrified, I tried to extricate my hand from hers but it was too late! It was a long and welcoming handshake, too long for my comfort, and when I finally withdrew my hand, I furiously rubbed it against the side of my suit whilst trying to hold my smile and keep the conversation going.

But it was too late! On my flight from Stockholm to Vienna, where I had to catch my connecting flight to Australia, I started to feel the beginning strains of flu. And by the time I reached Vienna, I was sweating profusely, my body had uncontrollable shakes, and I had started vomiting.

I advised the airline of my state of health, but still agreed to accept me as passenger, regardless of my state of health. “If I can only arrive in Melbourne alive, I’ll be all right!” I kept saying to myself. Before I left on the flight home, I obtained some medicine from the local doctor to try and help stabilise my increasingly troublesome stomach.

I can’t remember how I got on the plane, but I slumped into an aisle seat near the toilets, with a plastic water bottle in my hands. As the long-lasting cramps shook my body. I searched desperately for my medication that I had slid into the pouch of the seat in front of me for easy access.

I did not realise that by inserting my hands into the pouch, I was actually moving my fingers in the seat of the person in front of me. She was a tall and thin lady, a kind of school-Marm type, and when she felt my fingers moving around on her seat, her posture stiffened in exercised control and you could hear her threateningly drum her finger nails on the little plastic tray in front of her.

A man observed all this across the aisle from her; he bent towards me and with an Australian accent whispered, ‘Hey, are you’re searching for something in that pocket?’ and then added, ‘You have your fingers on her arse...’ lifting his plastic cup of beer in approval, smiling encouraging at me, obviously meaning well.

This revelation came as a shock, even in my foggy state, and quickly jerked my hands out of the pouch. I heaved myself out of my seat, pale and with unsteady and slurred speech, I mumbled an apology to the stern looking lady.

Looking up at my glassy eyes, her face betrayed her thoughts. She did not believe a word I was babbling and, judging from her body language, she would have slapped my face had I not stopped my ‘lustful groping’.

Thinking the worst was over, on one of my many trips to the toilet, I heard a banging on the door and muffled voices shout to the flight attendant that there had been a man in there for quite a while and that he may have fainted…

Suddenly, the locked door was ripped open with many arms reaching inside and grabbing me, and then dumped me back into my aisle seat like a sack of potatoes, leaving me sitting there on my own.

The passengers on the flight had their own little bit of theatre, and I suppose any diversion or entertainment is always welcome on the long flight back to Australia.

(Excerpt from my latest book ON THE ROAD AGAIN - and laughing all the way!)

May I invite you to leave a comment?

Peter Frederick

http://www.peterfrederick.org

http://www.life-on-the-road.com

THAT'S NOT FUNNY!

A writer who always uses descriptive words and carefully crafted sentences lives in his own world of creation, a fact that makes him sometimes absentminded when confronted with reality!

The result of these moments of dissipation may be funny for you, my dear reader, but I have to go on living with quacking shame for evermore!

Every time when my thoughts were on lyrical subjects whilst working in a day time job that sometimes lapsed into boring routine, I invariable found myself in a conflicting, if hilarious, situations that remain nightmare for me whenever I think of it.

For example, when inspecting a PVC flooring installation one early morning, I determined that it had a manufacturing fault and will have to be replaced, at no expense to the consumer, a young widow, who, for legal reason, needed to tell me of her wish for replacement.

Standing with her in her kitchen, with my clip board ready and pen poised, I pointed to the faulty floor, and meant to say: ‘How would you like to have this matter settled to your satisfaction?’ But because it was my first call in the morning, my brain was on a coffee break, the words came out: ‘How would you like to be satisfied?’

Noticing nothing out of order, I nodded to her encouragingly and waited for her answer.

On another occasion, I conversed with a lady architect and discussed a problem on a building site. Shrugging my shoulders I meant to say the words ‘I don’t get that!' But out it came ‘I’m not getting it!’ Seeing the lady cringe and slightly turn away made me realise my faux pas.

My dear wife, too, is not immune to wonderful bloopers which I, for a change, can laugh about! When trying to buy me a present, she meant to say to the nice shop assistant ‘If you were my man, would you wear this sweater?’ But out came her words ‘If you were a man, would you wear this?’ She noticed nothing wrong, until the salesman nodded in agreement, uttering sadly: ’I must admit, I am a bit dilapidated but I was a man once…’

I have more bloopers and hilarious situations mentioned in my two books and invite you to download sample chapters from my websites.

May I encourage you, my valued friend, to reply to me with an incredible, if slightly uncomfortable, mishap you had to endure? Just for a bit of humour in our lives!

So, please let’s stay in contact!

PETER FREDERICK

http://www.peterfrederick.org

http://www.life-on-the-road.com