Isn’t it great to see your children come of age and deal with the real world?

This was the case when 19-year-old Joshua asked me to send his tax return to my accountant for completion.

I sent his group certificates away. It took a couple of weeks before they had been completed and returned to my post office box.

I called Joshua and said: “I have your tax with me.”

He was instantly ecstatic and said: “Can you drop it round, I really need the money.”

I tried to explain to him that it was just his tax forms and that he had to sign them and send them off to the Taxation Office. He struggled with that concept and said again: “Well, how long before I can get the money?”

I replied: “Once you sign these forms and send them off, I don’t know, maybe two to three weeks.”

He became even more irritated.

“You mean for all this time, the government has had my money?”

I said: “Yes, son, welcome to the real world.”

His answer was as predictable as it was an example of how I’ve wasted my money on private schooling.

He said: “That’s boolsheet, mate!”

Left feeling like a spare wheel

I was travelling the back blocks of the Mary Valley the other night at around 8pm in my go-anywhere, climb-anything, X-army Land Rover Defender when I came across two local ladies – a mum and her teenage daughter with a flat tyre.

Naturally, being the all-around good guy misogynist that I am, I jumped out of the truck to give the “little ladies” a hand.

To my surprise, the daughter, who incidentally was dressed in a full karate outfit, had already jacked up the car and was just about to slide the flat tyre off the wheel hub.

She turned and dismissed me. “All we need is light, thanks.”

Her mum turned and said: “Yes, we’ve done this before, thanks Jamie.”

There I was, standing giving the girls light, and the tyre was changed before you know it.

The two country girls thanked me and left me alone in the bush, feeling somewhat inadequate.

A berry strange sight indeed

Have you noticed that someone has dropped a huge paper machè strawberry on the side of the road right opposite the Ettamogah Pub.

What can it mean? I think if you travel a little further north you may find a big bowl of cream to go with it. Am I just tired?

Driving Dad crazy

I am the best father any child could wish for. Where my children are concerned, I am “The Man”.

When it comes to giving them the experience of life, I grab every opportunity.

I had to go to Brisbane the other day and, as it turned out, Stella had an exam block that allowed her to travel with me.

“How would you like to drive to Brisbane and back, Stella?” I challenged.

She was taken aback, because most adults in our family are scared to travel with her, yet here was her father giving her his complete trust.

We put on the “L” plates, filled in her little book and off we went.

We were only a block away from our house when I asked Stella to pull into the local shop so I could grab a drink to help me on my way.

She slowed and pulled into the car park and accidentally slammed her foot on the accelerator instead of the brake.

We ended up hurtling towards the plate-glass window and stopping abruptly (once she had got it together) 60cm from complete disaster.

She looked at me, I looked at her and I said as gently as I could: “Get out!”

I met another reader

I was on my way into Nambour State School to drop off my piece of art work for their celebrity auction when I met Scotsman Alex Forsyth and young Brodie.

He told me how much he enjoyed my column, particularly the stories of me regularly rummaging through the dump shop.

It turns out Alex worked at a recycling plant in England.

By the way, Alan Langer also submitted a piece of art to raise money.

Guess what he painted? It was a picture of a football.

Come on Alan, you can do better than that. What about some flowers next time?