Getting Wood

It was a bloody glorious day. Spring is nearly here. You know with global warming, you could almost say Spring is here.

4pm. In the afternoon, my mate Charlie messages me with photos of some tree recently cut down by his neighbour, now on his neighbour’s nature strip. “You want some fire wood?”

So, we drive over to Charlie’s to pick the cut wood up. We take the back way through Brunswick, so as not to be so obvious. It is still within 5 kilometres of home, but it certainly isn’t one of the reasons you can leave home, in lockdown. It is a $5000 fine after all, if you get caught. It would make it very expensive firewood. And, after last weekend’s flouting of the rules, apparently, there is a police blitz on.

Alexander Parade, usually heaving with cars day, and night, was empty, so that seemed like a good sign people were obeying the rules.

I say to Sam, “As long as we don’t end up on the 6pm news with Dan Andrews saying, “Even after all I have said, some clowns thought it was okay to go and collect firewood from the next suburb.”

Charlie and Lenny were in their front yard when we got there. 

“Do you think it is okay to take the wood?” I ask.

“It’s out the front,” says Charlie. He shrugs.

“I’d better ask,” I say. “It seems only polite.”

Charlie asks the neighbour over the back fence if it is okay if we took the wood. It is.

So, I back the car around and Sam, and I, start loading the wood.

The neighbour comes out a one stage, a quintessential hot, muscular wog boy in a white singlet, with tight, blue track pants that… well… did what tight track pants do. Well, hello there. He says it is good someone is going to use the wood.

Really, when it is all said and done, it is probably pretty stupid, as the wood will take something like 2 years to dry out enough to burn. And we have no idea what kind of wood it is. It was big tree rounds, what were we thinking, I think as we load it into the car. But wood has got so expensive now, so the idea of free fire wood is always tempting.

Granny makes an appearance right at the end, in classic floral on floral on floral, apron and headscarf and scuffs, she probably knows from her 105 years on this earth that the wood is no good as fire wood. Who are these malakas taking away this useless firewood? she is thinking as she shuffles up to the front gate. Let me get a good look at these idiots.

We ware our masks the whole time. We don’t go into Charlie and Lenny’s house, “I don’t know if we should ask you in?” says Charlie.

“We’re not supposed to,” I say. So, we speak to them over the front fence, socially distanced, of course.

We just drive straight home, I don’t bother with the back ways then, and we are home by 5pm.