I was tired. As per the opening morning tradition, no way was I getting out of my warm bed to help the boss. Not even food was going to entice me outside to appease the lads in their quest for a feather or two.
I opened one eye and watched the two leggers get dressed in their best camouflage gear, attempting to impersonate ‘Rambo', and if the boss had not been so engrossed with putting his war paint on in front of the mirror, he would have noticed Ady sneaking onto the bed he'd just crawled out of. I told you she was smart.

Ready for the hit
After an hour of swapping stories and dressing like trees, they were finally ready to hit (little did I know at the time, this was all they would hit) the boats, and proceed to the zone, lovingly prepared over previous weekends.
Figuring this would be the last I would see of the lads for at least four hours - it was not yet even light yet, I thought the opportunity to find my hidden stash of food was too good to pass up. Little did I know that the bloody mad German would bust me and wake up the rest of the household. So much for that idea.
Two hours later, my slumber was interrupted by the sound of the boats returning and raised voices, a language only I can understand, as the boss has called me most of the words he was using. But poor Ady, being at an impressionable age, had to seek cover and now will possibly have to undergo counselling.
After much gesticulating over coffee on the deck, it turned out the boss, the apprentice, and young Ben had been served a lesson that not everyone is as ethical and law-abiding as they should be. As the apprentice stated, it was war out there, with cowboys roaring all over the harbour on jet skis and in boats, and he likened it to them all arriving down from the hills after a night of watching re-runs of the movie Deliverance and having the haunting sounds of dueling banjoes still ringing in their ears.
Now my two leggers really enjoy a little danger and fun most of the time, but apparently they draw the line at the mayhem that was about. There were no damn ducks anyway.
Suffice to say that a new plan is being hatched.
No worries though, as we all had a little fun, and the Boss and young Ben got to hang out together and demolish the bacon and egg pie plus a couple of hip flasks of amber fluid.
Now let's move on to more productive thoughts, working out how quickly you all can get down to my second favourite person, namely Johnny the Aussie Butcher in Gate Pa, before all his great specials head on out the door, so get in quick.

Peppered steak pasta

Ingredients
400g fettuccine
1/3 cup olive oil
50g unsalted butter
450g rump steak, trimmed
½ onion, thinly sliced
1 Tbsp green peppercorns in brine
2 cloves garlic, chopped
200g button mushrooms, thinly sliced
200ml dry white wine
2 tsp Dijon mustard
1 Tbsp Worcestershire sauce
½ cup beef stock
½ cup thickened cream
2 Tbsp chopped parsley

Method
Cook pasta to al dente then drain. Toss with one tablespoon of the olive oil, season with salt and pepper, and set aside.
Heat butter and remaining oil in a large frying pan over high heat. Add steak and cook for two to three minutes each side, remove and set aside. Reduce heat to medium, add onion, and cook, stirring occasionally for five minutes or until soft. Add the drained peppercorns, garlic, mushrooms and wine, and cook for a further two to three minutes.
Add mustard, Worcestershire sauce, stock and cream, season well, then allow to simmer for two minutes.
Slice the steak thinly and add to the pan with the pasta and parsley. Toss gently to combine.
Well that's all my good folks, I have to be off to supervise the Boss, and his endeavours to outsmart my feathered friends. The lads will not be beaten and have come up with a plan so cunning, you could put a tail on it and call it 'Ady”.