My brother and I used to have a competition over trying to find the most annoying gifts to buy each other’s kids, with the ultimate goal being the present that annoyed the parents most.

Water pistols, noisy toys, models that had to put together etc were favourites, and I got away to a flying start as he had a family long before me.

But by the time it was all over I think he won, with something as simple as a kite.

It had to be put together, which took a while, and being fluent in Chinese would have been handy.

Then it had to be flown in 40kmh southerlies on Christmas Day – that was after it had to be untangled from the powerlines in the park.

Why I mention this is I still have that skill of finding annoying presents for our friends’ kids and it is a much better game because they can’t get me back.

Or at least that was what I thought.

The other day we went for our usual trip to the Arthur Street Markets. It has become one of the highlights of our week which, in hindsight, is a bit scary.

Now I can thoroughly recommend to anyone many of the merchants at the markets, all of course selling food of some description.

The bread guy has almost had to get a restraining order on me because I see him that often, with the only thing getting bigger than his takings being my waistline.

The tomato man is nearly as nervous about me hanging around, as are the Coastguard and the Outriggers when I look at them with love in my eyes over their burgers.

But last Sunday’s trip was a little different because we took our friend’s eight-year-old son, Beau, with us, firstly because he is a good kid but more importantly because it gives us an excuse to head down to Caloundra’s main street for a Colin James ice-cream.

So there we were, wandering around the markets when we came across a guy selling imitation Lego toys.

The flagship of his stall was a huge battleship for $49, and my little friend was drawn to it like a Bogong moth to a streetlight.

There was just one problem – he had only $10, and while the bloke did his best to execute a sale, I pointed in the direction of an army tank for $22, which he eventually got.

As we walked off he made another comment about how good the ship was, and at the same time I thought, well it is big and it will take some putting together, and his parents will have to help him.

So we returned to a delighted trader, who high-fived Beau and relieved me of some more cash.

I was keen to get home to see the reaction from his parents, but we had to complete our shopping and this is where it got interesting.

The dear wife headed for the vegetable stall, where she had bought a thing called a kohlrabi a few weeks before.

My knowledge of vegetables stops at chips, but I did remember this particular purple thing because the only other time I ate it, it gave me wind like you wouldn’t believe.

I told her that, but because she has a cast-iron stomach it was to no avail.
Everything went according to plan.

Beau’s parents spent all Sunday and before and after school on Monday totally devoted to putting together the Chinese battleship. So initially I was feeling pretty good about myself – $39 well spent.

But then old mate asked me what I wanted for dinner. “Anything as long as it has chips with it” came the reply, but what arrived was a plate of boiled vegetables and nothing else.

As I write this I am looking at the definition of kohlrabi. It is a combination of German words – and can be traced backed to the Roman Empire with Asian and eastern European origins.

My description would be more like: “could be used pre-colonoscopy, test-driving pedestal strength, and loved by the shareholders of Sorbent”.

I don’t know what the Asian word for karma is, but the guys on the battleships must be still smiling.