A memory of wartime. Garry lives in Downsouth Australia (Colac, Vic)
When I was very little, my dad was at war and my brother and I were looked after by our mum in a house her dad had given her. It was on a hillside just above the dairy farm which my uncle John was running in partnership with my dad.
When dad came home, I didn’t know him. I hid and cried. My brother GdO (“Jeedoh”) went to school a few miles away, travelling on the teacher’s motorbike. She boarded with us and I wish I could thank her for teaching me to read phonetically, a bit later on. The nearest boy my age was mNrO (“Menrow”), who had an older brother dRgF (“Dargeff”, with a hard ‘G’, of course). With no petrol in wartime, I seldom saw any other children till I went to school. Incidentally, that school where I played and learned is now covered by a large water storage for Melbourne.
Mum kept a stash of clothes and food out in the bush in case the Japs came. And she had a .22 rifle which she didn’t know how to use. Of course she had none of the paternalistic services like water, electricity, trams and garbage collection that urban people take for granted. But back to MnRo: well, we did visit and we showed each other how we learned to read, although neither of us could understand the other’s way. But that was after the war. Visiting before we went to school, we played with colouring books, Meccano; the same sorts of things any other little boys would do, including teasing his little sister TB (“Teebee”). And when the time came to depart, mNrO would yell “Bye, kH” (“Kaitch”).
When I was very little, my dad was at war and my brother and I were looked after by our mum in a house her dad had given her. It was on a hillside just above the dairy farm which my uncle John was running in partnership with my dad.
When dad came home, I didn’t know him. I hid and cried. My brother GdO (“Jeedoh”) went to school a few miles away, travelling on the teacher’s motorbike. She boarded with us and I wish I could thank her for teaching me to read phonetically, a bit later on. The nearest boy my age was mNrO (“Menrow”), who had an older brother dRgF (“Dargeff”, with a hard ‘G’, of course). With no petrol in wartime, I seldom saw any other children till I went to school. Incidentally, that school where I played and learned is now covered by a large water storage for Melbourne.
Mum kept a stash of clothes and food out in the bush in case the Japs came. And she had a .22 rifle which she didn’t know how to use. Of course she had none of the paternalistic services like water, electricity, trams and garbage collection that urban people take for granted. But back to MnRo: well, we did visit and we showed each other how we learned to read, although neither of us could understand the other’s way. But that was after the war. Visiting before we went to school, we played with colouring books, Meccano; the same sorts of things any other little boys would do, including teasing his little sister TB (“Teebee”). And when the time came to depart, mNrO would yell “Bye, kH” (“Kaitch”).