Looking after a big mate, country style
I HAD an old mate from down south come up for a visit this weekend - my mate Big Pete.
Big Pete and I grew up and lived together for many years in a bachelor pad we called Castle Grey Skull because it was in about as good a condition as the Manus Island detention centre.
Pete was the main reason I was not bashed close to death for being a cheeky bastard when we were young - and can fight a mad man.
Pete sits about six foot eight and if he fell over, he would be halfway home.
Pete runs a pub in Grafton called the Jacaranda Hotel, the local tradies' pub in Grafton, and loves a schooner or two.
Pete sits about six foot eight and if he fell over, he would be halfway home. He sits at about 150kg and for as long as I have known him has lived on a diet of pints, family pies and anything deep fried.
The last time he gave up chicken wings, Inghams had to sell their business.
His bride has suddenly put her foot down and has him on a diet, where he's allowed to eat and drink anything he wants for five days a week and gets only 600 kilojoules a day for the other two days.
To give you some idea what 600kj is, its about two apples and for a bloke whose apples consumption is usually wrapped up in deep friend pastry from McDonald's, this may prove to be a stretch.
So, for the big fella it means bugger all tucker for two days and, for the other five days, no animal on earth is safe.
Beer is off the menu as well during the fasting days and, for a bloke that doesn't drink beer but inhales pints faster than a knife fight in a phone booth, sitting around after a day pouring icy cold beers may end up killing him.
He was still at my house yesterday and Monday is one of his diet days so, being the great mate I am, I planned to cook half a hogget, a big dirty potato bake and anything else I can find. That's just the good bloke I am.