Port Douglas & Mossman Gazette - - NEWS -

Co­conut has no­ticed that any­thing that can go wrong, goes wrong at Easter, when there is no pos­si­bil­ity of help from trained and skilled peo­ple, who in­stead are up camp­ing at Lake Ti­na­roo or some­where. Though not ev­ery­one is on holiday, as ev­i­denced by the am­bu­lance folk who seemed to be ev­ery­where over the Easter break. Seems south­ern­ers choose Port Dou­glas to have their holiday heart at­tacks. Any­way, Mrs Co­conut was down in the big smoke and vis­ited an em­po­rium, as she does, and was ex­cited about a new pair of boots. She got them back to the digs only to find the box con­tained two right feet. (Prob­a­bly some­where down south is a cus­tomer who is a ter­ri­ble dancer). She re­turned to the shop the next day but of course the store was closed. She had to fly out that night . . . there was the strange story about a tradie in Bris­bane who couldn’t/ wouldn’t ex­plain to police how he came to have $596 mil­lion in the bank a more than a bil­lion worth of houses. I’d say above av­er­age thrifti­ness and one of those old­style kid­die sav­ings ac­counts did the trick. But best of all is the yarn about the English woman, Su­san Brown (69), who de­cided to swim out to a cruise liner off Madeira, mis­tak­enly be­liev­ing her hus­band had re­turned to the ship (he had ac­tu­ally boarded a plane and flown home . . . alone (oh dear, more on that in a minute). She saw the cruise liner from the air­port and jumped into the At­lantic to in­ter­cept it, swim­ming more than 500m out to sea! Ap­par­ently her hand­bag kept the in­trepid ol gal afloat un­til she was picked up by lo­cal fish­er­men who, one notes, thought her cries for help were com­ing from a large lo­cal seabird called the ca­garra (see, a story with ev­ery­thing!). They said the Bri­tish hol­i­day­maker looked like a sur­vivor of the Ti­tanic! The cou­ple had cut short a 32-day tour from the West Indies on day 28, with the cruise op­er­a­tor of­fer­ing them flights out of the Por­tuguese is­land to fly back to Bris­tol on Satur­day evening. Lo­cals be­lieve she en­tered the wa­ter very near the air­port – where rocky steps lead down to the sea. Now that Mrs Brown is safely back in Dorset, one can only won­der in the com­ing days about the likely fate of Mr Brown, who flew back to Blighty . . . alone, af­ter the row with the mis­sus, ac­cord­ing to the re­ports. Ahem. Of course the whole saga con­firms that a lady’s hand­bag is her true best friend.

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