Yer Wouldnt Read About It

here is an extract from a book I have been writing for a while now lets see what you think I will add more later
Okay, okay, hold on a minute, I’m still asleep." I yawned. “Christ! My bloody head.” Groaning and holding my head in my hands I very gently and slowly got out of bed, trying to remember when we had spoken about going fishing." It’s pretty late, isn’t it?" I said squinting at my watch through eyes you could cook toast on." It’s nearly lunch time."
“The fish don’t start bitin’ till just on dark, come on.”
“If you hang on till I have a wash and a cup of coffee…
Hey! By the way,” I suddenly thought." Where’s the river around here?"
“Twenty five miles out on the Angledool road, good fishin’ too mate.” Johnny replied.
“Well come on then.” I said as I finished my cup of coffee.
We picked up our supply of grog from the fridge and carried it out to where Bill was waiting at Johnny’s old Ute.
“Do you think this thing will get there Bill?” I asked handing him a bottle of beer." Here get this into you."
Bill looked pretty sick today and we couldn’t get a word out of him until he had taken a long swallow from the bottle. “Arrrr! That’s bloody better.” He growled." It won’t matter if we don’t, we got our food in the back. "Indicating the cartons of beer we had brought along. “Of cause it could rain an’ this black soil’s a proper bastard even if yer only ’ave a leak under the wheel.”
We seemed to have traveled nearer to fifty miles instead of twenty- five before Johnny turned off the road onto a narrow bush track.
“Won’t be long now mates.” He said as we bumped our way over and across rocks and anthills.
“There she is, looks alright too.” Bill said pointing to what appeared to me to be a muddy gum tree covered waterhole. “This is a river?” I queried as we pulled up under a gnarled old river gum.
“Yeah, some good fish ’ere mate.”
I climbed out of the Ute and went to have a closer look at the Narren River, it was about twenty-five to thirty feet wide and seemed to wind like a snake, and also it looked like pure mud.
“You sure there’s water in there?” I asked. “Looks like liquid mud to me.”
“All rivers out ‘ere are like that Bob, come on, I’ll show yer the blue ’ole.”
We walked a couple of hundred yards till we came to a sweeping bend, then Johnny said. “There she is, the blue ’ole.”
“Looks more like a bloody mud hole to me.” I told him.
“Get the fishin’ lines out, will yer Bill?” Johnny shouted. “An’ the grog, I’m as dry as a bushfire in summer.”
“Hey Johnny,” Bill called back a few minutes later, “Where’d yer put the bloody lines!”
“Look in the back, yer blind or sumthin’?” He growled back.
“You ‘ave a bloody look, there’s only the grog in the back!”
“Christ! Don’t tell me.” Johnny said sheepishly." I left them on the caravan steps."
“Well there goes the fishin’ looks like we guzzle on regardless.” Bill sighed opening another beer.
“You better put the rest in the water to keep them cool.” I suggested. “Can’t drink hot beer.”
Johnny picked up a carton and walked down to the waters edge and placed the bottles one by one underwater. “There that’ll keep them cool.”
“What’ll we do now?” Bill asked.
“How about telling me a bit about the ridge?” I suggested.

Journal Comments

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