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Steve's Grinder
Sep. 4th, 2006 07:08 pmA couple of years ago I left a book at the entrance to Steve Irwin's Australia Zoo on the Sunshine Coast hinterland. I took a couple of photographs, then walked back to the car. On the pavement in the car park I found a pepper grinder, just a plain glass jar of peppercorns, such as you'd buy in any supermarket.
Obviously it had fallen out of somebody's picnic basket as they loaded it into their car, and now, a few minutes before closing time, they were long gone.
Still, it looked clean and fresh, so I picked it up.
Over the years, it has become the stuff of legend in the Skyring household. We're obviously pretty thin on legends, but we tell the story, suitably embellished, to guests, and conjure up images of Steve and his crew sitting forlornly around his camp table, mourning their lost pepper grinder, and swearing vengeance as they contemplate their unspiced croc steaks.
It's a heady vision, the mighty wildlife cuddler, vowing a solemn oath under the outback stars to hunt down the people who stole his pepper grinder, last seen driving away from the scene of the crime in a car with Canberra numberplates, giggling.
This afternoon DD and DS walked in, and their faces told me something serious had happened. "Steve Irwin's dead," DD announced, "he was stabbed through the heart by a stingray."
My jaw dropped open, it sounded so bizarre, something you'd see in a newspaper cartoon, one in not very good taste, but it was true, and his death has been the lead item on the news, complete with footage from Parliament House of the Prime Minister passing over a note to the Opposition Leader.
Kerri came home a little while later, and I was treated to a repeat of what I must have looked like - she said "You're joking!", but a glance at our faces told the truth.
But life goes on. Steve wasn't much more than an occasional visitor to our television screens, usually on the Commonwealth Government quarantine service ads - "This little critter", he'd say, holding out a tiny dot on the end of his finger, "can chew through a silo of wheat in no time at all!"
"Honey soy chicken kebabs for dinner tonight," I told Kerri. "What shall we have with them? Cous-cous, rice, pasta?"
From behind me came a single word from my irrepressible daughter.
"Pepper!"
So long, Steve. A colourful Australian and a wonderful entertainer.
Obviously it had fallen out of somebody's picnic basket as they loaded it into their car, and now, a few minutes before closing time, they were long gone.
Still, it looked clean and fresh, so I picked it up.
Over the years, it has become the stuff of legend in the Skyring household. We're obviously pretty thin on legends, but we tell the story, suitably embellished, to guests, and conjure up images of Steve and his crew sitting forlornly around his camp table, mourning their lost pepper grinder, and swearing vengeance as they contemplate their unspiced croc steaks.
It's a heady vision, the mighty wildlife cuddler, vowing a solemn oath under the outback stars to hunt down the people who stole his pepper grinder, last seen driving away from the scene of the crime in a car with Canberra numberplates, giggling.
This afternoon DD and DS walked in, and their faces told me something serious had happened. "Steve Irwin's dead," DD announced, "he was stabbed through the heart by a stingray."
My jaw dropped open, it sounded so bizarre, something you'd see in a newspaper cartoon, one in not very good taste, but it was true, and his death has been the lead item on the news, complete with footage from Parliament House of the Prime Minister passing over a note to the Opposition Leader.
Kerri came home a little while later, and I was treated to a repeat of what I must have looked like - she said "You're joking!", but a glance at our faces told the truth.
But life goes on. Steve wasn't much more than an occasional visitor to our television screens, usually on the Commonwealth Government quarantine service ads - "This little critter", he'd say, holding out a tiny dot on the end of his finger, "can chew through a silo of wheat in no time at all!"
"Honey soy chicken kebabs for dinner tonight," I told Kerri. "What shall we have with them? Cous-cous, rice, pasta?"
From behind me came a single word from my irrepressible daughter.
"Pepper!"
So long, Steve. A colourful Australian and a wonderful entertainer.
