Sitting around the backyard table sipping a coffee with my cousin. Nothing but the slight breeze through his garden and the warbles of the magpie in the background.
We’re chatting along and the conversation turns to some new bloke I met through family and I describe him to my cousin:
“Loves his music, reckon you two’d get along like flies and shit. He’s a good bloke.”
He retorts with one of his favourites fishing a chuckle out of me, “Yeah, shit root though” with a grin that’d give pause to a shark.
Your story reminds me of a week I spent with a family from Melbourne.
In the sense that even after 5 days with them, I still had no clue what they were saying, despite understanding each individual word they spoke.
I fucking love you Aussies.