I am never one to refuse an invitation to a party , so when the daughter of Leo and Irene, my neighbours , had a party to celebrate either her second or third birthday ( my memory is hazy in that regard but I think it must have been her second) I accepted eagerly . It would provide a break from the round of work on the block and a chance to meet more people . It was set for the very next Saturday afternoon , and I had always left my Saturdays fairly free , if only to watch the afternoon football games on television . No problem of timing there !

I did have one small problem , in that I had not been able to get into town after the invitation came so that I could buy a present , and thus I had to improvise . I knew that the little girl was quite taken , even at that age , with the bird life around their shed , so I took a chance on being able to make two types of nest box to hang in their trees .

Some time in the previous year I had written to a man down in the Hunter Valley , who traded under the name of The Gourd Father . He specialised in selling the seed for gourds of all shapes , colours and sizes , as well as finished products made from that odd vegetable. I had purchased a couple of sample packs , which could provide me with seeds for gourds of differing shapes , and had planted some in the orchard over a hastily constructed frame , and some others near the compost heap.

I confess I simply hadn't learned from my previous experience with sunflowers and Tiny Tom tomatoes , with the result that when I returned to the block after some weeks away , I had a crop of gourds that I stopped , and just in time , from taking over Dondingalong entirely ! I gathered some from each of the varying shapes and dried them in the shed , varnished them and stored the best of them .

The smallest ones were ideal for bird houses hollowed out and hung up in trees for wrens , finches and smaller birds frequenting the area . So I cut a door into a couple of them , removed the dried seeds ( being careful not to leave any around that would contribute to a further propagation ! ) , attached wire hooks to go onto branches and aded a convenient landing perch , and so had a pair of bird houses.

What I had in my haste forgotten , as we discovered a long time later , was to drill holes in the bottom so that any rain that got in could leak out. I console myself with the thought that it was the result of what had to be a hasty job , and as they say , the thought was there anyway .

Came the day , I shaved-- a rather infrequent occurrence while I was up there, since I saw little reason to impress the kangaroos with a shining morning face -- and made my way to Leo and Irene's block. I wasn't the first there , that too being unusual for me , as I am a chronic arrive - too - early sort of person. I think that the people from further along the ridge road who had brought children , plus a few friends from Frederickton , had been there a while in the morning as well , and had made excursions down to the new dam for a swim.

I was handed a beer , introduced to some of the others , and settled down to socialise . As a party it of course was centred around children , but I found ample entertainment in just meeting up with people previously unknown to me . Mostly they were women who had brought their children ; the men , it seemed , were generally engaged elsewhere . It was a good afternoon all round , and provided me with one funny story .

Australian bush flies must be the clingiest insects one could find . See any home made video or film set out in the bush and you will notice The Great Australian Salute -- an automatic lifting of the hand to brush away the flies , that make a special point of crawling towards the corners of the eyes , in search of moisture .

They are a pest at any time , but my plight was exacerbated by the recency of that shave . After a longish period sporting a rough beard , my face was tender from the closeness of my shave for the occasion. Hence the irritation was intense , and before long I simply had to return to my place to get can of aerosol insect repellent . In case others needed it I brought it back to the party with me , and it was indeed useful .

I was in conversation with a statuesque young mother , and expressed my gratitude for the relief that the repellent granted . Then , after carrying on in a beerily jocular way about the effect of the flies on my tender skin, I made a minor gaffe .

"It's all right for you ladies , " I remarked , "you don't have to shave ."

My error .

A silence fell , and the statuesque lady looked quizzically at me .

"No ? " she commented . Then she and the other ladies laughed .

" Do you know " , she said, " that my mother cried the first time I shaved my legs ".

And they all laughed harder , while I managed a shame faced grin .

As only a sporadic visitor to the block I didn't ever meet any of them again on any social occasion , but I am sure that if I had I would have been ribbed about my blunder .