A man's man

Today my partner cut down a dead tree in my neighbors front yard. This was because a few weeks ago a huge gust of blew a branch sideways onto the footpath narrowly missing a lady as she walked her two dogs. We met with the neighbour, the one that works for the tax office, and agreed it needed to go. So I set my partner to action.

After donning his heavy cotton drill work clothes, he announced he was off to Mitre 10, and took off in the Prado. He rolled up his sleeves and topped up the Stihl chainsaw with petrol then using ropes and ladders fired her up. It screamed as it spewed forth a choking blue haze and chomped branch after branch from the trunk. A chainsaw in these parts is a rare occurrence, since council has passed new laws against felling trees. The new neighbors came rushing to see what the noise was about as well as the Cypriot lady over the road whom I spied behind a white colonnade.

To my partner though, who is a tradesman, this kind of thing is all in a days work and part of what he believes is being a man. Having grown up in the sprawling suburbs of "the shire" as they like to call it, big toys such as mowers, chainsaws, trail bikes and boats were part of everyday life. But to delicate, white, environmentally conscious city folk who live within arms length of each other kitchens, this is pollution of every kind. Since moving closer to the city he looks at the locals tripping down King St, or milling about Leichardt Market Town as "office fucks". Give him a kebab and a beer followed by a fart anytime.

With heavy gloved hands he cracked the larger branches over his knee then cut the log into smaller pieces and stacked them neatly in a pile for our neighbour to dispose of. No mess, no fuss! "I think I'm ready for a beer now" he said wiping the sweat from his brow and strolling toward the fridge in the garage.

But it's not just tree felling that makes him a man. It's his love of heavy farm machinery and equipment as well. When I met him he owned a few hundred acres in the country with his brother. It was a boys paradise of sheds, tractors and bikes. For 25 years they took every opportunity to visit and between them had built a small wooden hut complete with outdoor shower. An outhouse sat on the top of the hill, providing an excellent view of the rolling landscape if you left the door open. We would escape for romantic getaways and I watched on as he demonstrated how all the different tractors and bikes worked. Having come from a creative background myself and with a father who was musician more than mechanic, I was so impressed I cooked him up a feast of baked lamb and apple pie on the fuel Agar.

Then there are the cars. Recently he purchased a Toyota Prado which came without any accessories then proceeded to tell me how a man can be measured by the kind of vehicle he owns. A top of the line diesel Prado comes with all the trimmings of tyre cover, roof racks, bull bar and snorkel. So far he has the tyre cover and roof racks so he is not quiet there yet. I asked him what sort of man the new neighbour was because they had a land rover. "No, that's a trendy heap of shit", he replied.

And the there is the dirt bikes. Another weekend we went to a friends farm where my partner and his friends screamed around the property on their dirt bikes demonstrating wheelies, jumps and doughnuts each time they passed me. It was the ultimate male ego booster and I gave the appropriate oohs, squeals and claps as they flew past.

But the blokiest is when he has been hanging around his bike mates a bit too much and suddenly I am called "mate" and the swearing barometer rises. And then there are the usual things that don't interest him as a man - the colour of the new sofa that we have ordered. "As long as I can put up my feet to watch the footy I don't care", he says. Then there is the pilled trackys and fleecy pullovers he wears to the shops "I'm dressing comfortably", he retorts. And when I ask him his opinion of my new shorts "yeah, I can see the shape of your bum in them".

But he refuses to watch RSPCA Animal Rescue. It brings tears to his eyes to see the poor animals in pain. And he is fastidious about the washing up, dust in the house and a good coffee. And he has this thing about dolls and monkeys. Can't stand them. But to me in my eyes he will always be a man's man.