Potata Fritters

Saturdays

A day of sports

Juniors tennis in the morning

Us kids hope we win

Dragged to cricket or tennis

On those precious afternoons

Finding fun in the boredom

Climbing the highest pine trees

Just waiting to be called

“Afternoon tea time”

We scramble down to get snacks

Always looking forward towards our

Special Saturday tea times

But first, gotta finish the arvo of sport

Head to the country pub for team drinks

As we play pool and sip lemon squash

Finally, tired and sunburnt

We pile into the car for the drive home

Where the farm dogs welcome us;

Excitedly jumping on and licking our tired bodies.

We lie in beanbags, tv on

Hearing dad make

Our special potata fritters

In the background

Our Saturday night special!

Not every Saturday but our favourite…

When he can be bothered.

Grate, grate go the spuds and

Soon we hear the exquisite sizzle in the pan

As our wood stove cooks them crisp

Mum calls out “come n get it” and

We race to the table and see a plate piled high

I take two or maybe three

A bit of salt and mum’s homemade sauce

My mouth waters as I take my first bite!

Nothing beats spud fritters after a day in the sun and good old Aussie sports

Dad still at the stove making more

But not as fast as we eat them

When our tummies cry from too many fritters

We do the dishes and I go find dad

Lying on the trampoline

Out in the front yard looking at the skies

On our farm the stars are so bright as

He points out constellations or satellites

These are special times.

Dad isn’t a man of many words

Or emotions

So to spend Saturday nights together

Are memories stored forever

Along with the taste of those

Potata fritters!