A Bitter Sweet Connection to Kevin (6°) Who? Shaking in my Socks.

Tonight I am Shaking in my SOCKS. Connections. Past Catching Up.


Reading through a friend’s post on Facebook, I caught someones comments on his pictures. He was staying in a large city in a Scotland that is having a comedy festival. Obviously he was there to cheer on the Ozzies there, even though he is from Glasgow.


I knew the commenter! It was Mandi


What a great thing to find out.


And This is What Was Really Weird!

Seeing that persons name, and another persons name on a card I picked up earlier today.


Today I was tidying up someones room (they will remain nameless to protect myself them). I picked up an old xmas card (2009! old?) and the address on it; from Peter. Okay, better make sure it’s in the address book, yes, there it is, he has not moved, but has a new friend, that’s right, good! And well well well (3 holes in a desert). (The mother of his kids was also another mutual acquaintance in this long short story, which could be another story). Card filed. In another pile…


The connection; My friend Pete and Mandi  were good friends back where and when I went to college thirty years ago!

This friend had summer vacation work locally, and Pete and I college were students, engineering and geology respectively, also trying to get some vacation work.


I met Pete during O-week thirty years ago. Pete was an ambitious sort. He was right into 3 or 4 things. Music, cars, tennis and girls, see, 4 things at least.Pete went through an apprenticeship, then a draughting internship(?) Anyway, he had a yellow SLR5000 Torana when he had finished the intern time, and a you beaut sound system, enough to blow your ears out. His dad was an engineer, don’t know whether that is significant, but he traded the car to do an engineering course, at a country college. he was also right into Bjorn Bork, The Tennis Player. Pete even dressed like him, god, he would have been the stunt double. Head bands and all.


There were concerts and stuff, the usual O-week celebrations; beer, boys, girls and parties.

A mate from the previous year, Nick and I were going to try to sneak into see a band, The Flowers (back then), but the security was too good. So we went to the top of the hill, and drank. A clear chilly late summer evening, looking over Flora Hill campus before it went Suburban…

Me, royal reserve port, less than four dollars a bottle, cheaper than a six pack of beer, and not as heavy.


We introduced ourselves to some other would be concert crashers, Pete and his friends, all first year students. And then someone passed me a joint. My first. No immediate effect at all. Nothing. So Nick and I talked to these guys until the sun nearly came up. I tried to chat up one of the greek arty farty new girls back in the residences. No, we  talked crap until the sun came up, and there was no port left in the bottle. Nothing ‘happened’. I think she thought I may have been gay- a waste of her time.


The after effect- shit, I was so stoned man!! Ignoring a chick like that! And she never really talked to me again in the following years. The port and the numbers had made me impotent!

Or the shyness of “careful, first contact with an alien!“.


Pete, Nick and I remain friends. Nick is so camp I cringe even over the phone. Pete has two boys, and is successful government consultant or something. And they are both a long way away. Same with Mandi.


More connections.


In this ‘college’ town, there was some drilling going on for gold. There was need to log the core. The students in town were not offered the job, but some Girl from another college or old mining town ended up with the job!

The boys and I were not too happy- but se la vie (?)


For some reason, I had a spare room over the summer, maybe because the other house mates went home to mummy and daddy or a vacation job- what ever. And I met this chick, and mentioned to her that there was a room free to share the rent with. Tarnia would not mind because this Chick was going out with Pete.

And so she moved into onr of the spare rooms. I think we had a great summer time. She told us one time that she tanned out the back of the office when she was logging core, nearly in a bikini… The house i rented was woeful, a real student rental- the shower was not shower as the hot water heater was sitting at the same level, and the outside toilet actually leant to the left. (Imagine you were drunk trying to relieve your self late at night in a strangers loo that had a lean…)


The next time I met Mandi, I was in the desert  between The Alice and Brisbane, near No Where. On arriving at the little drilling rig, arrangements were made that the other geologist would finish off his work, and take off the next day, and that I should go up to the camp. I drove the stupid little Mitsubishi 4 wheel drive back to the camp to get a meal and bed.


As I got there, a small figure comes running towards me, a girl! Yelling HELLO TONY!


What the?


It was my old house mate, MANDI.



My brother served a meal to a “Grease” star once, and sat down for a yak to this pilot who really must know Kevin Bacon, huh? Small world. I am 3°from Kevin Bacon.

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About tone

Widowed exRigPigGeo 50yr old dad of 4 'teens', is doin' job raisin' kids, misses a lot of things. Family (close and extended) and Friends - an important part in our of life. Likes gadgets, speedsailing, reading (SF), geology/archeology, maps. Coffee monster- burnt out one espresso maker too many. Have to have plenty spare "moccona" in cupboard. Things I miss- Tarn. The rig life and income. A lot of sailing. Tarn.
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