The Gravy Day barbecue

Happy Gravy Day.

At a rather good barbecue today (obviously before the rain came pouring down) I had a couple of blasts from the past, back from almost 20 years ago, those heady days of year 7 and 8 at the now defunct Ardoch High, before I bailed out and shifted schools to Snob Castle. Sam, a fellow student from back then said hello, and I also chatted to Rod and Christine, parents of the hostess Justine, who was also at the same school, and whose brother Josh I sat next to through most of year 8. It’s a small world.

What I found amusing was that Sam and Rod unknowingly followed the pre-1985 name rule. I’ve talked about this many years ago, but it’s worth mentioning again. Between about 1977 and 1984, I was known as Danny, basically because when I started primary school I was asked if I preferred Danny or Daniel, and decided that Danny was easier to spell. When I switched schools in 1985, I reverted to Daniel, because – for whatever reason – I thought it sounded better.

Most people who knew me from the Danny phase still call me Danny. Others call me Daniel. Call me what you will – just keep the personal abuse down to a dull roar.