On my Facebook page recently, Jan Fitzgerald, a very talented artist and poet from Hawke’s Bay, put up a lovely painting called When the cows come home. Loved the painting and loved the title. Cows tend to straggle and wander, they stop and have a munch, they stand and stare, they ruminate. if you’re in a hurry they can be extremely tedious but the cows couldn’t care less. So saying you’ll be there ‘when the cows come home’ tells us you’re not going to arrive any time soon. The phrase made me remember lots of old words, phrases, impenetrable to outsiders and probably to us now too.
Here’s Joe and Bill leaning on a fence…
Joe: So I said to to him you’re a bloody drongo, mate.
Bill: Always been a tight–arse.
Joe: Dunno if he’s trying to up the ante or what – Missus called him.
Bill: Makes good scones.
Joe: Her knows which side his bread’s buttered on.
Bill: Yeah, worth a quid or two.
Joe: I tell you Bill, I was stonkered. That tractor’s in good nick. And the bugger knows it.
Bill: His old man was the same. Full of bull.
Joe: Think I’ll have a natter to Smithy.
Bill: Careful there, mate, bit of a dingbat old Smithy.
Joe: Yeah but…
Bill: Preach it, mate.
Joe: Oh well, live and learn.
Bill: No such thing as can’t.
Joe: Leave it at that then.
Bill: No smoke without fire, mate. On the right track.
Joe: Well, s’pose you know your onions. Goin’ the pub?
Bill: Might wander down a bit later.
Joe: You see him?
Bill: No worries, mate. Bob’s your uncle…
They walk off in different directions…
Renée
