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9:00 PM "One thing wrong with Margot's plan for sharing a prawn cutlet is who gets the tail end in their mouth," writes George Kimpton, of West Pennant Hills (the romantic possibilities of sharing seafood, Column 8, Saturday). "As I recall it always seems that prawn cutlets always have a tail, and a juicy end and whoever gets the tail will not get anything worthwhile." True enough. But love is never having to say that you got the crunchy end of the prawn . . .
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We have a wonderful solution to hand for the vexing question of the etiquette of divvying up an odd number of prawns between two people (Column 8, Thursday). "The best (and most fun) way to divide the odd prawn," advises Margot Taverne, of Pymble, "is for each to hold one end between your teeth, and bite through it while you are kissing. This works equally well for the last chocolate. We used to do this often in our youth (about 65 years ago), and can recommend it."
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"I've noticed something strange during my daily commute," reports Matt Petersen, of Randwick. "If I drive behind a hire car – the ones with the black and white HC plates – and have my headlights on, those plates magically turn white, so the numbers cannot be seen. It only happens with HC plates. Surely they wouldn't be trying to avoid identification by speed cameras, so I wonder what the real reason is."
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"Is a request for 3/8ths of a kilo really 'absurd'?" asks Andrew Nelson, of Faulconbridge (Column 8, Tuesday).
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"I am fervently hoping," pleads Jenny Archbold, of Bellingen, "that someone can tell me why, after every news report of an accident, we are informed that 'a report will be prepared for the coroner'. Why do we need to know? It drives me batty, but then it doesn't take much, I admit." We couldn't agree more. It's completely pointless, and infuriatingly ubiquitous.
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"Furthering the discussion on medical black humour regarding one's imminent demise," adds Michael Nossiter, of Manly (Column 8, last week), "my favourite, from my Accident and Emergency background, is this: Doc: 'I'm afraid the news isn't good.' Patient: 'I can take it. How long have I got, doc?' Doc: 'Ten.' Patient: 'Oh no! What, months, weeks?' Doc: 'Nine."'
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"Regarding Sam Goldwyn's 60th birthday sundial," adds Sandra Sullivan, of Oatley (Column 8, Wednesday), "I've heard a story that instead of the sundial being inscribed with 'Ars gratia artis' (Art for art's sake – the MGM motto), it read 'Ars gratia pecuniae' (Art for money's sake), and that apparently Goldwyn never noticed."
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"Regarding Tony Hunt's story about how his grandfather's GP tackled the matter of his approaching demise," writes George Skowronski, of Darlinghurst ("Don't bother buying a news suit," Column 8, Wednesday), "medical black humour has lots of these gems, including 'I wouldn't start reading War and Peace'. But in the world of intensive care, where I have spent most of my career, a somewhat shorter time frame was sometimes needed. One of my favourites, from the pre-CD era, was 'Don't buy any long-playing records'."
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"I remember my dad telling me that packaging that said 'Contents: approximately X number' would always be under that number," recalls Nan Greig, of Kiama (13 biscuits in the Arnott's package advising contents of "around 14", Column 8, Tuesday). "To prove him wrong (always my aim), I counted 20 boxes of Redhead matches which had the information 'approximately 50 matches'. Every one had 49. I hated it when my dad was right!"
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Tales of useless spellcheck suggestions keep coming. "As a teacher in 1990," recalls Michael Downes, of Cronulla, "I had shown my principal how to use a word processor. He asked about spellcheck – much less sophisticated in those days. I showed him, but advised him to use it carefully. A week later, he showed me a letter he'd composed to his boss, a Mrs Vicki Tanzer. The spellchecker had renamed her Mrs Vicissitude Tantrums. Luckily, he had followed my advice to proofread."
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Normal transmission has been resumed. Now, back to early morning alerts for people who might find themselves in the wrong room at dawn (Column 8, last week).
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"The guesthouse to which Eric Shackle refers," writes Michael Morton-Evans, of Mosman (Be in the right bed at the right time, Column 8, since Tuesday), "was in fact the Carrington Hotel in Katoomba, where a sign on the first-floor staircase read 'Guests are requested to be in their own rooms by the breakfast gong'." John Frith, of Paddington, begs to differ, insisting that it was the Hydro Majestic at Medlow Bath. Perhaps it was a romantic tradition across the Blue Mountains.
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"In an Oxford to Cambridge boat race," writes Geoffrey Toon, of Wagstaffe (Column 8, since Saturday), "I will be backing the crew that takes the inland canal route, Oxford Canal, Grand Union, River Nane and then onto the Cam. Whilst Mike Hills team sculls their boat the long route up the North Sea, my lot will probably be sculling an ale in a lock side pub."
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"Saturday's question," writes Steven Maher, of Failford (Which is longer, the Melbourne Cup or the Oxford Cambridge Boat Race?), reminded me of another: Which is shorter? Driving around Australia clockwise or anti-clockwise? Anti-clockwise of course, because you're on the inside lane." We recall being told that the difference in distance is much smaller than you would think. Does anyone know?
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"Never mind reversing underwear," waves a dismissive Michael Robinson, of Cammeray (Column 8, for much of last week), "my Doona covers have an insatiable appetite for anything that has the misfortune to be in the machine with them. As a result they come out looking like a python that has swallowed a goat. From time to time the fitted sheets join in this cannibalistic behaviour."
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"Whilst running a pub trivia night recently I posed the question 'Which is longer in distance, the Melbourne Cup or the Oxford Cambridge Boat Race," writes Ogden Browne, of Balmain. "I overheard one of the younger generation discuss with his team mates 'How far is it to row from Oxford to Cambridge?' After my initial chuckles, I wondered if any Column 8ers could enlighten me as to whether this is in fact possible."
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"The most irritating insult to the English language? The mispronunciation of the word 'a' as if it rhymes with hay," asserts Merrick Jones, of Kambah, ACT. "John Howard started it. Now all politicians use it, and it's spreading to TV and radio newsreaders and reporters. Normal people don't speak like this. Imagine: 'I'd like 'a' cup of tea and 'a' cake, please."'
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"Ralph Davis is amazing," writes a mind-boggled Richard Stewart, of Pearl Beach (the laundry topology experiment, Column 8, Wednesday). "Imagine having 40 pairs of underpants, and to have all 40 agreeing to participate in the inside out/outside in washing machine test. Although 'how many have you got? is not a subject for blokes' discussion over beers at the bar, a weeks supply and a couple extra perhaps but 40 pairs? Ralph, you are certainly a man apart. And incredibly, they are all washed."
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"I write today to set right the abominable rite of calling airplanes 'aeroplanes'," huffs Chris Keane, of Wright Park, Washington State, USA (Column 8, since Monday). "I believe I am right in saying that airplanes were invented here on the right-hand side of the Pacific, giving the American inventors the right to name them as they please. I don't recall the names of the lads who invented them, though. Alright?"
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"I smelt a rat at Phil Morey's discourse on crows and ravens," sniffs Alan Robertson, of Canberra (Column 8, Saturday). "A check of my field guides confirms that there are no crows in Sydney, just the Australian raven and the little raven. The Australian raven does have a more prominent throat hackle but is more easily distinguished by the dying note at the end of its call, described by Morcombe as 'aairk, aark, aaarh, aargargh'."
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"To my fellow readers, who have in the past expressed interest in these creatures, I am able to advise that Golden Orb spiders are currently consolidating their presence in the upper northern suburbs gardens," reports Doug Cameron, of Normanhurst. "Arriving almost a month earlier than last year, they may have some insights into the coming seasons that we don't."
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"As the junior teller in the '60s at the ANZ bank in Pitt Street," recalls Peter Watson, of Adelong (boys with bullets, Column 8, all week), "I was sent to the Castlereagh Street Branch to collect additional cash, as Pitt Street was running short. With a six-shooter tucked into the trouser belt, and jacket pockets bulging with bundles of cash, I was crossing Pitt Street on my return when a constable called me over. He requested identification, I produced my wallet, sweeping the coat tails aside and revealing the revolver. He proceeded to book me for jay walking. No mention was made of the weapon or the bulging pockets. And no, the bank didn't pay my fine."
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"Further to the 2044 Monday leap day," adds David Dolphin, of Summer Hill (Column 8, Tuesday), "it's interesting to note that any calendar event, be it a Tuesday Christmas Day (2012) or five Fridays in July (2015) will only have to wait a maximum 28 years for a repeat. Every calendar repeats itself every 28 years, some in a shorter time. So everybody's 28th, 56th and 84th birthdays will always fall on the same day of the week they were born."
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"I can't tell you when the next February 29 will be a Monday, but I can tell you that there was a Monday, February 29 in 1932," writes Jennifer Whaite, of Oatley (Column 8, Tuesday).
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Stories of casual gunplay (Column 8, Monday) prompted much nostalgia for the a time when arms and the man were an ordinary part of NSW life.
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Slightly astounded at the announcement that Canberra was to spend $50 million on new assets for the silent service, we asked if anyone recalled an Australian submarine firing a torpedo in anger since 1945. Our mistake was the timing. Aaron Haugh, of West Ryde, and a volunteer guide at the Australian National Maritime Museum aboard the submarine Onslow, kindly informed us that between April 24 and 29, 1915 our boat, AE2, was under orders to "generally run amok" inside the Dardanelles. She fired three torpedoes with one suspected but no confirmed hit.
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The City of Blue Mountains has many cathedrals, it seems (Column 8, since the hamlet debate). "I thought that the not-man-made cathedral to which Bob was referring was 'The Cathedral' in Jenolan Caves," adds Alison Stewart, of Waitara.
