When you arrive at a BBQ, you should be able to see at least one man wearing an apron. A lasting favourite is the apron of fake breasts. Personalised printed aprons are surprisingly rare. There is often an apron option in one of the NGO Christmas catalogues, and men with daughters doing arts degrees have very often been given one and will be wearing it with real, but hidden, pride. Aprons with Leunig cartoons are last century, but are still seen at the BBQs of cusp-of-retirement teachers (generally history, biology or English).
If there is just one man wearing an apron, he is your host. If there are two men wearing aprons, one is your host and the other is his best mate or brother-in-law. Any more than two men wearing aprons is not natural. You will learn nothing about the real Australia at such a BBQ, and you may as well be at home reading Patrick White.
He he he. Excellent advice. And any man who can take the tongs from the apron wearer and start turning the snags is truly the alpha male. Goodness, it’s all a bit Masonic, isn’t it? So mote it be.
This is the husbang’s. That’s not him in it, mind, but I don’t have a picture like that handy.
And thank god you commented over at Elsewhere’s for I had forgotten to update my bloglines and was getting sniffy because you weren’t posting.
Zoe, you never disappoint.
It’s a cracker, innit? A present from his sister from Rome.
Best fun was watching three six and seven year old girls finding it hanging up in the kitchen at a cracker night party and watching them point and giggle.
Apron with breasts = Aporn?
Hmmm