Wasaille The Pig

The Hhndorf Inn, Hahndorf, front view with umbrellas along the front.

By Pat Toomer

It was a farewell dinner at the Hahndorf Inn. The whole team were there, apart from the few on duty that Saturday night. Dr Sean had finished his stint at the Lyell Mac, where he’d worked for the past twelve months. It was a celebration as he was departing for the John’s Hopkins in Baltimore USA the following week.  and we were glad for him, but sad to see him go. We would miss his wonderful Irish accent around the place, and a few nurses were especially sad.

The evening began with plenty of laughter, carafes of wine that never seemed to run out, and the giving of ridiculous gifts. One such gift, a packet of green condoms that someone had managed to find, in homage to his heritage. This seemed to be quite hilarious at the time.  Oh! That was a night.  

The Hahndorf Inn patrons were served by wenches and men in lederhosen, who arrived with large platters held shoulder high shouting, 

‘wasaille the pig.’

 Whereupon, everyone was to cheer and drink up, waiters hovering to fill the never empty carafes. A very merry scene. Somehow as the night wore on, I decided that a glass wasn’t big enough, so I drank liberally from, you guessed it, the carafe. 

Dr Gordon, a huge Scotsman took me in hand, and ushered me outside. I do remember walking around in the fresh air, round and round we walked, but am not exactly sure where. I do remember saying something like 

‘You’re a really REALLY, nice man.’  

I have little memory of the rest of the evening, except when it came to go home. Most sensible people came in a bus, but I came in my car.  It was apparently decided, that driving back through the Adelaide Hills was not an option. I was bundled into the back of my car, no seat belt, and one of my friends drove me home. I do remember that drive. Every bend, and there were many, I was thrown from one side to the other, like a bit of driftwood on an incoming tide. My stomach lurching with each turn. We made it home and I managed to get to my bed.

Next morning, is indelibly printed on my memory. It was horrendous. I had never had such a blinding headache.  The slightest movement sent waves of nauseous pain behind the eyes, to the back of  the head where it exploded. All I could do was curl up and endure the nightmare that continued for an entire day.

Did I learn a lesson that night?  Oh yeah!  

Just enjoy but watch out for that one drink too many. You really do know when that is.

Homework Story. For One Drink Too Many.