The Cold War: Pub edition

When the winter begins, the only thing that is colder than the weather is the increasing battle of the long fairy tales around the pub fire, John Longhurst writes.

Bazza said with the other old blocks around the outdoor fire in Pub: Young Simon was very little confused to make room for:

“By GEE, you must feel cold.”

There was strange bone squeak in quiet and passive competition for heat from open fire.

Mick fixed his shaking ship with both hands and returned to Simon in case of standing in shorts and thongs:

“Not really, Young Simon. You have to harden a little. It’s not as cold as it used to.”

He shook the head of the agreement and cleaned the old Bill throat:

“When I was your age, Simon gathered around the refrigerator where the door was open to keep it warm. Now it was cold.”

There were a few chuckles, and Mick’s bald head reached a deal.

Old Bill took a deep breath:

“This cold does not even grade through Gundai.

Simon’s chin fell:

“Wait Bill, this is a story of a dog’s loyal and master’s protection. There’s a sculpture and song …”

The old Bill cut him with his head shaking:

No, stay away from Google, Simon. The real story is that this bloody dog decides to annoy the Tuckerbox of one night in the middle of winter and a cold fluttering in the movement. It was so cold that the dog was frozen like the whole winter. Every dog owner in the region brought his mutt to witness as a lesson.

Now, being a ‘art community’, the art community, thought that it was a mysterious ice statue of a 19th century ‘Banksy’ artist, so it has become a touristic attraction. Of course, the summer bride had to build a song to build a sculpture, change the story and make tourists come to the arrival, and they had to save Gundai’s good name. But it’s so cold.

Timeless Tom’s long internal extraction broke the pause:

Ahh, you’re all a little soft. Cikey, Simon, when I was your age, we would call this air spring. In 59, I was fencing the Clyde Mountain in the middle of winter for this man. He was so cold that his wife was growing ice flowers.

Anyway, this man has forgotten everything of my work one day and had to spend the whole night in the back paddock. It was so cold that the moon even stopped going out. At nine o’clock, there were ice stalactites on the barbed wire fence I tried to sleep under, and this midnight was about real cold sets before. Until then, you needed a choice of ice to blow your nose.

Mick’s knees came together and Simon took long:

“Bloody Hell. How did you survive night?”

Timeless Tom took a long sip and loved the short silence:

“Fortunately, I had a spare cigarette paper that I could use as a blanket.”

John Longhurst is an old industrial defender and political consultant. He is currently working as an English and history teacher on the southern coast of NSW.

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