Wednesday, August 30, 2023

60 in 60(62) #33 David

 It's been a long hiatus between chapters in this random journey through the last 60 years. So much so, it's now 62 years! The initial burst of energy passed, as did the semi-regular additions. The energy has subsided but the vision is not dead. God willing I will carry on and even complete the series. As a down payment on that "promise", here is a new chapter, about my mate David. He celebrated a milestone birthday on the weekend and I wrote a poem in his honour and read it during the "formal" part of the party. It was well received.

A little context is required.

In the period after losing my job as a school chaplain in Busselton, I worked for SW Coachlines, driving school buses and doing charter work. One such job saw me drive a group of gynaecologists up to Perth airport after a conference at Bunker Bay. By good fortune, David sat in the first seat and upon hearing his English accent I struck up a conversation and quickly discovered we had something in common: a passion for Tottenham Hotspur. The three hour journey was largely consumed with talk of our beloved Spurs. At the airport we exchanged numbers and thus began an ongoing (and continuing) sms dialogue shaped by the results and fortunes of Tottenham. 

David and his family live in Melbourne so when we moved back to Victoria in late 2010 our relationship evolved from text-based to occasional face-to-face contact. Apart from EPL connections we also both love AFL and most sports, though sadly he barracks for Carlton. We've been to Cats v Blues games, the Boxing Day test, the One Day World Cup Final, a couple of Wallabies games, and best of all, a Spurs game at the MCG during an end of season tour down under. 

Our friendship has grown closer and extends to our wives and families. Busyness and distance don't allow for a lot of time together but I always enjoy catching up with him. A couple of months ago David and Orla were returning from a conference in Adelaide and stopped in at my place in Nhill for lunch and a quick visit. 

Therefore, it was great to be able to attend his birthday celebration, and to share some verses in his honour. One more piece of context; In the lead-up to the party I privately messaged the people on the guest list and invited them to contribute a story or anecdote about David and to tell me how they met. I was able to weave several of these stories into the finished work. And here it is:


The Ballad of David Wrede.             

 

A long long time ago in a land far far away

An event occurred that we celebrate today

It was a birth of dodgy noble lineage

A murky mix of ancestral parentage

 

Yes three score years ago and five

Though surely no one else here was yet alive

To bear witness to this momentous deed

The birth of our much loved David Wrede

 

Little is known of his early years

Either that or no one cares

To delve that far back in history

So his childhood can remain a mystery

 

His Mum and Dad, Dilys and Casper 

Met while learning to be actors

I don’t know if his childhood was mild or wild

But suffice to say David is an only child

 

Of mysteries concerning our aged friend

One stands out and may never end

It defies understanding and rationality

But what exactly is his nationality?

 

It changes often, depending on the situation

As to his loyalty to any particular nation

British by birth, a pom that’s the ticket

At least when it comes to the Ashes and cricket

 

His namesake and he have enjoyed many a day

Watching the Poms and the Aussies at play

Usually at the mighty Melbourne Cricket Ground

But once also at Lords, cricket’s most sacred ground

 

I have no desire his reputation to diminish

But another possibility is that David is Finnish

A Baron no less is his noble claim

And perhaps we mispronounce his name?

 

I have no proof  but nor a reason to think he 

Doesn’t bear some title in Helsinki

But I suspect if the Finns were playing the Aussies

He’d be there dressed in a Viking Cozzy

 

Don’t ask me if the Finns were actually Vikings

They could have been Danes or Icelandic kings

They’re all from somewhere in the Nordic regions

And David will surely claim some allegiance

 

Of course he also purports at times to be Irish

Whether tis genuine or a wish to be stylish

Talking of stylish and the Irish nation

We all agree he married well above his station

 

We all applaud Orla, his partner for life

His colleague, his boss and also his wife

A finer pair it would be hard to find

A meeting of hearts, of souls and of minds

 

They married in the Millennial year

A joyous occasion it would appear

More blessing followed three years on 

When their lovely daughter Ciara was born

 

They had a test run in 1998

And agreed Australia is pretty great mate

Though it took another eleven long years

Before they finally emigrated here

 

But back to this vexed question we’re pondering

As to his nationality, we’re all still wondering

Why, when a few years ago he became a citizen of Australia

His loyalty to the Southern Cross is such an abject failure?

 

This land that welcomed him with open arms

This land of so many quirks and charms

Sadly moved him when he came to choose

To barrack for the bloody Blues

 

And worse than that, this year they’ve awoken

Playing finals, but hopefully just a token

Appearance in the early rounds will suffice

To NOT hear Da Da da da da would be nice

 

David studied medicine at Cambridge I believe

I doubt St Thomas was sad to see him leave

After some Christmas Day shenanigans in 1984

When poor Cedric in the A&E caused uproar

 

 

 

As Phil recounts the tale, the bosses weren’t impressed

But ignorant or oblivious to the state of distress

The Casualty Officer, one David Wrede I’ll distinguish

Went hunting for a fire to extinguish

 

Boredom relieving fun was surely intentioned 

But I believe the term unprofessional was mentioned

It’s not a term used now about our illustrious physician

By all accounts he’s greatly respected in the profession

 

A good number of guests gathered here today

And some who couldn’t make it all wanted to say

How much they love and respect the man of the hour

No upper class twit in an ivory tower

 

A few did say their first impression was mistaken

And once past the accent they were thoroughly taken

With the love and the passion, the friendship and loyalty

They began to believe in the tales of royalty

 

Russell for instance, upon meeting at Williamstown

Took a chance and invited him to the races at Terang town

David quickly adapted to the country hospitality

And enjoyed the event with much conviviality

 

Of course, we all know, our friend is shy and quiet

Just don’t mention Boris or the Tories or Brexit

But Russell divulged a juicy tidbit for these scribbles

That to them our David is known as Dribbles

 

A reference not based on a lack of manners or civility
But apparently on his google-like ability

To dribble out knowledge, facts and opinions

Which he readily shares with his colleagues and minions

 

And when we’ve all had enough of his forthright ranting

There’s another forum he loves to expound in

Yes Facebook is the place for venting his spleen 

He’ll argue with KBWs unknown and unseen

 

As you know, David is a long-suffering Spurs fan

He’s Tottenham ‘til he dies, a true Lilywhite man

From McKay and Greaves to Gazza and Waddle

He’s loved them all, from Perryman to Hoddle

 

 

 

That’s how we became mates and remain to this day

Following a bus trip to Perth from Bunker Bay

A meeting of spirits, two Tottenham tragics

From a chance encounter the outcome’s been magic

 

Therefore I’m surprised at a few people who’ve come

Yes those Woolwich invaders, the Gooners, the Scum

There’s Scousers here too I’m led to believe

If it were up to me I’d ask them all to leave

 

But it’s testimony to David’s good humour and grace

That he welcomes the enemy into this place
Georgina for example who upon collecting Antonia revealed

She felt for David as he watched Spurs lose 4-0 at Anfield

 

On the occasion of Ciara’s high school formal 

David’s fatherly instincts were stretched more than normal

Under great sufferance he remained stoic I promise

Despite Ciara’s date being a gooner named Thomas

 

Antonia and Ciara are best friends from school 

Who once went with David and Orla to a music festival

Expecting the cool jazz that our hero favours

The weird mix of sound was not quite to their flavour

 

Other friends here today are connected by Irish jigs

The weird armless world of fake tans and wigs

Ciara’s dancing endeavours led to parental connections

Which Martina describes with sincere affection

 

Ange did take exception to his choice of footy team

And his Melbourne Club excursions where no women are seen

She also mentioned during the Ashes some poor behaviour 

Especially when Steve Smith looked like being our saviour

 

Our hero is known by many titles and names

Doctor, David , Dribbles and Casper the same

As his Dad but who knows which is his fave?

Just whatever you do, don’t call him Dave

 

On occasions like this one tries digging for dirt

But it turned out all respondents were keen to assert

The genuine love and respect that they hold

For Doctor David Wrede and his heart of gold

 

 

 

I asked people how they met, how their friendship began

Many replied that through work was how they met our man

Doctors and nurses, gynaecologists and obstetricians

Members of the understaffed and overworked profession

 

And in truth, man woman and child, as one all agreed

They love and admire our dear David Wrede

Susan summed it up best when she said

“He is genuinely one of the nicest people I’ve ever met”.

 

Unanimously they agreed as they reflected

How much he is loved, admired and respected

I’m sorry I can’t recount all the stories and names

If we don’t blow the candles out soon the house may go up in flames

 

We’ve watched Boxing Day cricket and Spurs at the G 

The Cats play the Blues and Ireland beat the Wallabies

Lunches at wineries, crazy bidding for toys

Regular Spurs texts all ending with COYS

 

David let me finish by saying I love you, our friendship I treasure

Though our shared love of Tottenham brings more pain than pleasure

I hope one day that we’ll realise our dream

And watch a Spurs game together in N17

 

As I wind up these verses I just want to say

I give thanks for our meeting on the bus that day

Your generosity and care have blessed me time and again

I am honoured like all here, to call you my friend.

 



 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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