Page 24 - Demo

Ditching the Guff10Twelve SuitsOur family had not seen this sight before;a dozen men in wrinkled suits moved quietly past.Fresh-faced youths and seasoned handswith beards overfilled our lounge room with navyand brown bulk, plus an overt male stink of whiskyand stale tobacco.My father had been a merchant seaman%u2014when hemissed that life, drifted to the wharf to connectwith men on any British ship in port, normallybringing one or two home, unannounced,for their first taste of a good old Aussie welcome.He%u2019d outdone himself this time.Though my mother had already provided a mealfor six kids, courtesy demanded she feedthese extras, gob-smacked at this turn of events.Burr and brogue were alien; we struggledto understand as they reminisced, eagerly pullingfamily photos from wallets.Reluctantly, I allowed myself to be coaxedto the piano; but so nervous, it was a poor show,hardly worth their excessive praise.Rowdy voices over-rode one another,calling for more, naming requests.