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Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Cheers Digger

I am in awe of anyone who drags their bum out of bed at sparrows to go to a Dawn Service.

Of course I've done it for years - only as soon as I arrive there I turn the car around and go back home to bed.

I'm not a morning person: I'm more a 9.15am person. My oldest two have gone to the Dawn Service year on, year out for, well, years, and I'd be volunteered by Tracey to drop them down to the park. The trick, I've found, is to not open both eyes at any point. If both eyes open I'm suddenly awake with no chance of getting back to sleep. But if I keep one eye shut for some reason I fool myself. Of course, it makes driving a little difficult, but there's not much traffic out there at that time of day, so it's okay. Or rather, it's been okay so far.

But tomorrow morning I get to stay in bed. This year, in a flash of genius, I thought of a reason for Miss17 to stay at my mum's place tonight. Unrelated, of course. Just unfortunate, really, mum will have to get up at 4am to take her to town. Or so I thought.

Twenty minutes ago, Miss17 rang me up to ask if I thought it would be okay if she went to the mid-morning service this year. Wait.....

THEY HAVE A MID-MORNING SERVICE!!

Since when!? Why weren't Master20 and Miss17 going to this far more reasonably scheduled service the last 10 years?

Once I recovered from the shock I explained to her it doesn't matter which service you go to. The main thing is we use some time on this day to remember those who have served and risked and lost their lives in the service of their country.

I don't just think about them on Anzac Day, I think about them throughout the year - the movie Gallipoli left a deep impression. My Pop served in PNG and I've been to where the Kokoda Trail begins. Hearing about it is bad enough - depressing in it's way. I complain if I'm camping and there's no hot water and the tent leaks. I hate we put them through it. I can only imagine the horror they endured.

Poor bastards. We're thinking of you, today more than any. RIP.


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About Me

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Bruce Devereaux is one of the nicest people he knows. When not at work he enjoys reading, writing, hiding from his children and not changing nappies.

 

His career, and if we used the term any more loosely an e might fall out, has included a gardener, a personal lender, a console operator, a stop/go man (not as big a bludge as you might think but great if you’re into sunburn, abuse and varicose veins), a cleaner of banks and pubs and, for a very brief period, a door to door salesman (until the last door he knocked on was answered by a very scary woman with tremendously hairy legs).

 

Bruce Devereaux currently works as a forty-five-year-old award winning customer service officer (glass statuette available upon request) for the Bank of Queensland and as a very casual employee for Corrective Services. He likes to believe he excels at both but then he has always been prone to exaggeration.

 

His favourite colour is green, with a picture of Dame Nellie Melba on one side and General Sir John Monash on the other. His favourite flower is self-raising.

 If you see him around town, call his wife immediately - he's probably snuck out and left her alone with all the kids.


 

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