I drove to Brisbane the other day and there on the side of the road underneath the Strathpine bridge was a poor fellow who had broken down.

I thought long and hard about exactly what a guy like him would do when his car gives up the ghost. Who would he call?

How long would he have to sit there with his hazard lights on?

The reason I spent so much time thinking about it was because the guy who had broken down was in a Lube Mobile truck. I wonder if he calls 133 032.

Spirit of Anzac Day

Stella, Poppy and Jackson all marched for their school at the Buderim Parade.

It was a wonderful experience for them, made even more meaningful because each child was allocated the name of a fallen soldier to march for.

After the parade, 11-year-old Jackson was keen to head to the Mary Valley town of Kandanga to watch their parade as well. It was possible because the parade there started at noon.

With all the kerfuffle, we got there late but in time for the service.

He and I got out of the car and walked towards the war memorial of the sandstone Anzac soldier with bowed head and upturned gun.

As we approached, I could hear the kids from Kandanga State School reading the names of the fallen.

It was so quiet that the only sound you could hear was a slight breeze through the trees and the occasional bird off in the distance.

For some reason, it touched my heart and I put my hands on Jackson’s shoulders and pulled him closer to me.

When the Last Post played, the emotion overtook me and my eyes filled with tears.

If you want to be touched by the real spirit of Anzac Day, I don’t think you can beat a small country town.

Engagement party

Jace, my son from my first marriage (let’s call it marriage A, shall we), got engaged to a lovely girl and they had the party on Saturday night.

I went to the bar to get my wife a drink and as I turned, to my horror, there she was deep in conversation with my ex-wife.

I prayed that their discussion was limited to meaningless day-time pursuits and not night-time failings.

The night got worse though. Kym drank eight wines and had a quarter of a sandwich, resulting in severe intoxication.

The three ways I could tell she was inebriated were:

1. When I made the speech, she was the one heckling.

2. When we left the first floor function, she took the first five steps in one stride.

3. When I got her some Red Rooster on the way home, she gave me the food and took the plastic bag.

A teacher’s surprise

When I was picking up eight-year-old Poppy from school the other day, her drama teacher Mrs Thomas chatted to me on the way to her car.

“Do you know what your daughter has just said to me?” she asked.

“Enlighten me,” I said.

She continued with feigned irritation.

“I had just finished teaching your child for an entire day when at the end of the class, which she obviously enjoyed, Poppy turned to me and asked: ‘So what do you do for work?’ ”

Binge drinking

I applaud Kevin Rudd’s attempt to curb the binge drinking of our youth.

We’ve all seen it , we’ve all heard it – 15 and 16-year-olds completely off their face and creating havoc.

I urge Kevin not to just stop at the youth. Keep going Kev – strive for perfection when you’ve finished with the teenagers.

Why don’t you have a look at the obese, foul-mouthed, alcohol-affected, rort-taking politicians.