While my ever so ocker brother can be hopeless at times, he can also be quite amusing.
This evening when we went to a most wonderful barbeque at his place in the monocultural Langwarrin, we were greeted by a front garden view of a three metre tall steel post with a motor car exhasut tail pipe sitting on the top. Not a bad crude art attempt.
(I can never hear the name Langwarrin without remembering a Martin Boyd book. 'So why are you moving to the swamps of Langwarrin?" Said to Joan Lindsay of Picnic at Hanging Rock fame, I think.)
Barbeque against fence with three leeks jammed into the palings as decoration. I warned all not to ask him why the leeks are on the fence.
He got out the half forty four gallon drum, 205 litres for you kiddies, and lit a fire and then proceeded to burn his son's woodwork project of a few years ago, a very large shoe box. A deck chair was to be the next, but I convinced him that the chair was still ok. It was a cool evening and the fire was most welcome though.
Then he lit his back yard with a very odd lamp. Kinda a static heavens facing search light. The longer it was on, the brighter it became. He was quite amused by my comments about his 'mood lighting' and he would be better off uplighting the tree, rather than the basketball hoop.
But his 'piece de resistance' must be his pole. (no naughty thoughts faggots). It was 2 metres tall, painted white with a blue band a the top and some notches cut into it that were highlighted in black and it was jammed into a garden bed. 'What is that for E?' is the obvious question.
Well if you did not know him well enough, you would ask that, and then your name was scribed onto the post as the idiot who asked. Yeah, I did.