Random reminder

Press, 8 January 1980, Page 16

Random reminder

STINKING RICH

The old house wasn’t a Youth Hostel, it just sometimes seemed like one. Interesting people from the whole civilised world, and from Australia, kept passing through . . . happy enough to swap a few hours work for a roof and a blanket and a meal. Vegetarian meals for a lot of them. Dollar-low, protein-high. Good for the wallet and the waist. The Viet Cong, after all, did. not live on Super-Tender Farm-Fresh Chefs Selection DairyReared Flavoursome ‘N’ Juicy Prime Rib Cutlets of Beefy Beefsteak. But they won. It vzas Thursday. Who would be around over the week-end? There would be (he counted on his fingers, allowing for guests of guests and for random attacks of the Munchies) . . . yes, for a change they’d have a Roast.

And a Roast with a capital R it was indeed. Thursday’s dinner party pronounced it excellent — those who took meat — for by chance the vegetarians-by-choice were in the majority. There were many

dollarsworth of meat left over. Friday —fish-and-chip night. , Saturday — nobody home. Sunday —barbecue and 21st. Monday — He had to go out to a meeting. The mob could feed itself. It wasn’t until Tuesday that he got the mashed spuds organised and the peas and gravy on the boil and finally ran the knife up and down the steel and opened the fridge, Where was the Roast? Bewilderment. Nobody . had seen the Roast. Nobody had eaten the Roast. It was a mystery, wrapped in a riddle, inside an enigma. His brow furrowed. Cogwheels turned. A dreadful realisation came upon him. He checked. It was as he had feared. Opening the windows and operating a spray can, he announced that as a special treat, dinner would be peas mash gravy and a fried egg. Where had the Roast been? In a closed oven since Thursday of last week, that’s where.