I remember Pat Mathuman my first love cost me 40 p to take her to the movings pictures on Saturday arvo
10 p to get in 30p fore lollies and ice cream for the cuddle and kiss in the back row
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I remember Pat Mathuman my first love cost me 40 p to take her to the movings pictures on Saturday arvo
10 p to get in 30p fore lollies and ice cream for the cuddle and kiss in the back row
You sneeky bugga you. bloody expensive kiss though lolQuote:
Originally Posted by pearcey
Yea mate and I remember Carol Osbourne what a pin up chick.Quote:
Originally Posted by wild98
year 5 couldn`t get a look in
I remember going to the footy a Windy hill {ESSENDON} and the beer was warm and the pies were cold, hey hang on
they still are.
Another one was Bob's your aunty's husband. And I too have an Uncle Bob, the old mans twin brother.Quote:
Originally Posted by TPC
I remember when I was little and my uncle got REALLY mad he'd rub his head and mutter "oh my beads & tweeds" over and over again ... to this day I'm still like WTF!?!
Yet he's the first to say the "other" naughty words in general conversation LOL
Sent from Sharen's iPhone using Tapatalk ....
Was he perhaps a hippie that wore tweed???? :Yahoo!:Quote:
Originally Posted by Amelia
Got no idea but when he started with that stuff us kids bolted for the hills LOL cuz generally following was a huge arse strap with one of our names on it!!
Sent from Sharen's iPhone using Tapatalk ....
I remember when I was a boy:
My Mum would have the radio on in the morning usually around 8 O'clock.
Birthdates would be announced. If you were 18 and your date came up, you were conscripted for National Service.
Chances were that you may end up in the war in Vietnam.
RIP to those who lost their lives. not forgotten
On a lighter note:
I remember most nights the tv news would report on the war.
They would talk about Guerrilla Warfare in the jungle, and the Vietcong.
Now being that I was probably about 7 or 8 years of age, I had this mental picture of real Gorrillas running through the jungle carrying machine guns and attacking us humans.
I don't remember these hand post drills but I have to take my hat off to the older metal workers. I clamped a piece of 8mm steel with a 10mm hole
in it my intention was to quickly drill it out to 12mm. OMG This drill even has auto fed, you'll need shoulders like basketballs to work this tool.
after 10 min all I did was counter sink the hole, they were right men were men back then, will use it though as have the anvil, furnace ,etc.
Plus I have an even older one but missing a few bits, we're only talking 1920ish . Take my hat off to all of them
The days of iron wills and wooden ships me thinksQuote:
Originally Posted by threedogs
Thought I would dig this out for new members.
I remember going to parties and seeing the record player stacked 15 records high on 45 rpm
then as night rolled on change speed from 33 1/3 or 78 rpm'
this was called non stop hits for the time lol
As a kid my parents ran a fish and chip shop on South Rd Reynella called "The Hop Inn".
I would help out by getting the potato sacks and putting the potatoes in the rumbler that would toss the potatoes around in a cast iron tub to remove the skin.
Would then chop each potato into chips with a hand operated chip slicer, they were then partially cooked before getting the final cooking as they were bought.
They tasted way better than any chips you get now and you could stuff yourself for 10c.
I used to do exactly the same TPC, the spuds came in large hessian bags then. Potato cakes were hand sliced from the larger spuds. Everything was cooked twice. The old man made the first electric chips cutter using a Hoover washing machine motor, worked a treat. At primary school we could buy sixpence worth of fish and chips.
I remember Dad had grocery type store in our back yard, we used to bag up the sugar, etc.
Lolly heaven having milkbar in back yard. Biscuits came in those big square tins. Mum
told me when she was little they would buy a pennies worth of broken biscuits
remember when it was cool to buy 10c (minimum) chips and just tear one end of the paper so you could keep them hot for the trip (walk) home.
and when visiting my Nan in Seven Hills (Sydney) the taxi ride although 10x minutes in length only cost 40c, those were the days!
Below is an extract from a book I wrote a few years back for my kids, if the mods think it not suitable then please delete.
Over the coming weeks I will post up some more extracts, that is if you enjoy the read,,,,,
“Disobedient Sheep Dogs
And
You Bloody Kids”
By Glenn Forrest
2006-04-29
G’day,
This compilation is some of my earliest memories, from my first two wheeled bike, through my teenage years and well into my adult life.
These memories are by no way totally factual, for a young bloke’s perception may differ from the facts.
“Never let the truth get in the way of a good story!”
Nor are they in any chronological order due to my jotting them down as the memories flooded back.
So have a read, have a chuckle and who knows you may even shed a tear or two. Above all I hope you enjoy the journey, it was fun the first time, and just as enjoyable this second time round. I would like to thank my family for their patience and tolerance through my childhood and teenage years
To my Uncle Chicka, a very big thank you for giving me guidance and teaching me the finer skills or “bush craft” which I still enjoy today.
Dad, thanks mate for teaching me life skills I use each and every day, giving me a childhood I enjoyed then, and appreciate now!.
And mum, thanks for teaching me strength and survival, for no matter what level of diversity you face, if you believe you can, you will!
“I had the best childhood, ever!”
"My first Two wheeled bike."
My first bike was red and blue with pedals on the front wheel, from riding in Aunty Yvonne’s hallway to racing down the steep driveway at the Tumbarumba property dad worked on.
Playing with Kevin Wake at “The Glen”, the property owned by the Morton family where dad was a station hand was full of fun and adventure.
On one occasion while Kevin’s dad was separating honey we nicked what seemed like kilos of honey comb. Well I can also remember lying on the hearth in front of the slow combustion stove in mum’s kitchen with the biggest pain in the stomach you could ever imagine.
Kevin and I would play for hours under the tall pines, in the pine nettles building “forts” and “hides” to trap and capture the enemy of the day!
We lived with Uncle Terry and Aunty Yvonne for a while when I was very young, I remember dad had a broken arm and was off work for a while.
I can still remember their daughter Sharon, boy was she a pain.
Sharon would go out of her way to entrap me in what ever scheme she was dreaming up at that particular moment, often ending up with me in trouble with Yvonne and mum. Not the ideal situation to place a young bloke in, hey! So I would just try and stay clear of what ever scheme they were dreaming up.
“keep ya nose clean” was the order of the day!
Keep them coming BigFella.
"Broken wheels and a blood scarred forehead!"
I remember we were driving from Tumbarumba to Sydney when we had a head on collision with a HR Holden being driven by a bloke who was pissed, he had just come from the Yass rodeo and had obviously had a skin full. As we stood and looked at the surrounding carnage, there was smoke and steam flowing out of the upside down car, a stranger that had stopped to assist was carrying me on their hip. “Why is our car broken?” I asked while dad was sitting on the ground beside the right hand front wheel with blood streaming down his forehead. I told dad our car was broken ‘cause” the wheels were all crooked and the glass was broken all over the place”.
This led to my first ride in an ambulance, the glass between the front and back area of the ambulance was cracked and I remember telling the driver he had to get it fixed.
“Unfortunately the driver of the HR died instantly,
I guess he left behind a family, I have often wandered how that family would have coped after loosing their dad?”
The hospital staff separated me from mum and I remember making my way in to mum’s room and slipping into mum’s bed with her. The cranky old nurse came and took me back to my room, but I would crawl, slide, and ultimately end up in mum’s bed again. I won, the nurse gave in after several attempts and left me to sleep with mum. My dad still has the scars today.
I was about 3yrs old at this stage,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
Similar but not as tragic, travelling with Dad in the 38 Chev and homemade 6x4 trailer rear seat removed to fit more gear in.
We were around Gin Gin driving slowly on a dirt road, un beknown to us Gypsies were rifling our trailer taking the back seat and a suit case
Probably why I hate theives as I had to sit in the back of that Chev all the way to QLD and back to Melb on the Hump
"Bare feet, Horse back and Electric Fences!"
“The Glen”, Tumbarumba was a great place to grow up, the slow combustion stove in the kitchen was at least 10 feet long, (I was only 4yrs old) o.k. it was four feet long and had an open fire at the other end with a huge cast iron oven that would hang over the flame and slowly cook.
Dad had to do his stock work on horse back, now and then he would need to carry equipment so he would harness up “Bonnie” and the two of them would trundle off over the paddocks.
One day I went with dad and watched in ore as he setup an electric fence to keep the cattle from pushing the fence over, I could see dad was getting very frustrated with the fence with no kick or boot from the wire when tentatively touched (at arms length I might add) when dad said “come over here son and touch this wire, it wont hurt” CRACK!! and I was on my backside about 3mtr away stunned for the experience, you see dad was wearing rubber gun boots and these insulated him from the shock.
I would often travel with dad in the sulky with “Bonnie” up front we would feed the stock and check the water troughs.
It was a very sad morning when after a storm we found “Bonnie” had been struck by a falling tree and was killed in the storm.
Mr and Mrs Morton owned the property we lived on and mum would clean their main homestead. I remember having to stay outside in the yard as mum was cleaning. Mrs Morton was a hard woman. The main homestead had an in ground pool and dad would take us for a swim in the warmer months while the Morton’s were away on vacation. I guess they were from the “high side of town”!
Mum always seemed to have “potty lambs” around and I can remember feeding these lambs with a big feed bucket designed with multiple teats round the rim and hoses that reached to the bottom of the bucket. I used to recon they could “spin their tales so fast, they would take off,,” they really enjoyed these feeds, nearly as much as I did!
"Mongrels, School buses and utmost respect!"
David was the only son of Mr & Mrs Morton and boy was he a mongrel.
He would often place me high atop a pony belonging to his sister Margo. Slap on the horses rump and I was off, flat out across the paddock no bridle or saddle.
The trip would often only last a few minutes as I was no horse rider, I can remember thinking as I slid down the horse’s girth “I’m never going to have one of these for me” another time I sat next to David on the bus trip home from school, this trip often took about 35 minutes and as I was only a little tacker I sort safety in the presence of someone I new.
I was just about to get off the bus this afternoon when David said “instead of saying goodbye, tell the driver to get @#$#ed.
I thought no more of my farewell to the bus driver the previous day as I walked down the driveway and waited for the bus to arrive the very next morning. “Hello” was my greeting and the driver followed with “you can sit behind me for the trip into town young fella”.
As I sat proudly and quietly behind the driver, I had no idea what was in stall for me.
Just as I was about to get off the bus the driver asked me to stand aside and wait for the other kids to get off first, as he shut the door I started to get a bit scared.
Do you know what you are doing here young fellow?
“No” was all I could offer as we started to make our way down to the police station.
I was petrified and had no idea what I had done.
As I sat patiently and wondered what was in stall he stopped the bus and asked did I know what I had said the afternoon before?
I had no idea and professed this to him over and over again, he then told me it was very rude what I had said and asked who had told me to say such a thing?
Of cause I told him it was David Morton, he then drove me back to school.
Isn’t it funny how these early dealings shape the very person we are today?
My respect for elders was entrenched from that day forward.
“Good Morning Mr Smith”, “Good Afternoon Mrs Brown” were my trade mark greetings for my entire growing years.
Even today when ever I greet an older person, that trip down to the Tumbarumba Police station is vivid in my mind.
when i was a kid i used to stand in a basen in the rain under the down pipe and enjoy the pure fun of it
when i was a kid i used to walk the main goverment road on the island and not have to worry about cars
when i was a kid it was 8 hrs by sea to thee corner shop for an ice cream,,,,,, oh yeah to hot for ice creams but 2 hrs in the boat got us to church on sunday LOL
this also proves that Hekarewe used to be a cute little fella
Looks like great memories there Hekarewe
the best hard life for boy growing up on an island in PNGQuote:
Originally Posted by threedogs
heres few more pig hunting with the natives
an average nightly sun set from the front door
and the veiw from the front of the house with me and dad heading over to the village in the family "car" native dungout canoe lol
heres a few more for you
who can remember the old kero fridges i used o love to mess with it so it make pritty patterens on the wall with the soot drove mum mad
and the old laundry copper the smell of pamolive soap bars melting as the cloths are boiled and stirred by the house girl
going out just at sunset to start the old 3 cyclinder lister diesel geni then going out a few hours later to switch it off and go to bed
so many things that kids of today just have no concept of at all
Not kero fridges but remember ice man coming around I reco Antique Iceboxes ATM
Bush job out in the Simmo on Gen power, and nightly sunsets so similar
“And they say the young don’t take notice!”
The Broadhurst family lived on an adjoining property and we came to know them as Uncle Les and Aunty Maureen along with Brian, Dianne and Judith.
After they moved we spent many weekends at their little property at Jingellic on the border of Victoria and NSW.
Fishing for trout and playing tennis were favoured past times.
Uncle Les would milk his old cow every morning and if you were lucky enough to join him, he would get us to sample the warm milk straight from the udder.
“Just how Mother Nature intended!”
I remember Uncle Les would have tomato on toast for breakfast, with pepper and a little salt.
I remember one time we met the Broadhurst’ family down at Windang in the Illawarra for a few days in the school holidays. Spent some good times chasing crabs and little fish in the rock pools. The girls would often challenge us at tennis and sheep stations were placed on the line, or so it would seem. It’s unfortunate how our families grew apart for the reasons of general family life I guess.
“The day mankind walked on the moon!”
We sat on the floor eyes glued to the black and white television in the corner as Neil Armstrong stepped onto the Moon’s surface for the first time.
My first day at school was at Seven Hills in Sydney. Nan had the envious job of taking me for my first day.
As we walked the long trip down Lucas rd to the little school at the bottom of the hill, I can remember being scared as heck. The week before Nan had taken me down the street to have my hair cut for school, “make it nice and short” were Nan’s orders as she walked out side to go next door to the paper shop.
When Nan walked back in I heard for the first time those words that we all remember Nan for, “oh’ shit!” was all she said.
The barber had taken Nan’s orders literally and had shaved my head with a number 1 comb, straight off with the clippers.
Nan was stricken, she was so worried mum and dad was going to be mad. All I can remember mum saying was “it’ll grow back, don’t worry about it!”
Yvonne st Seven Hills was another address I enjoyed alongside my trusty companion Mate, a Jack Russell Terrier, or that’s what he was suppose to be. He stood about the height of a kelpie with long shaggy hair and the markings of a terrier.
Combine that with the attitude of a heeler and you have one heck of a dog. Mate would growl and bark, often bit anyone who he felt was a tad too close to “his mate”, me! Dad’s brother Richard was as scared as heck when ever he came around because Mate had chased him over the fence on more than one occasion, I guess Mate was a good judge of character.
I didn’t want to leave Mate at Stockinbingal when we went back to Sydney, but dad just said we couldn’t take him.
I remember on a visit back to Stock I rode for days searching, from “Corby’s lane” to “Stock hill” from “Morton’s Hill” to “Emu Chase” all the while looking for Mate I called on every farm house, searched every shearing shed and explored every wood heap.
I remember talking with Pop about how we moved back to Sydney and how he looked after Mate.
“Son, Mate didn’t like being tied up anymore than you like living in Sydney.”
“He just ran away, son” was all pop said.
So off I rode in search of my best Mate, only to find out many years later that Pop had to shoot Mate after he became aggressive and started to bite everyone.
“A dog that bites has no place in the country”
Or so they say!
“A man without a dog, is a man without a soul”
I remember the solar eclipse , spooky kind of feeling, dogs barking ,birds roosting.
Weird how animals sense this stuff, like the Tsunami, not one animal injured
go Figure
its like they (animals) have that sixth sense that gives them prior warning?
Slight hijack - but mate small world! My first school was the Meadows in Seven Hills!Quote:
Originally Posted by The BigFella
Jas
Thanks ova50 for starting this thread, and also BigFella for finally convincing me to start writing my life story - something I've said I'd do for many years.
I'd always though I had a pretty normal life. Left a country still recovering from a world war because it was under communist threat. After 5 weeks on a converted merchant ship arrived in this far flung land. Spent time in Bonegilla migrant camp, armed guards on the gate cause people to do a runner as they thought it was a concentration camp.
Had a great life growing up in country Vic, remember finding a skull near the tip which my mate took home. Playing with sweating gelignite - I didn't know it was dangerous. Married - kids, divorced, remarried - grandkids. Being a murder suspect!
Got to be some chapters there.
Mate go for it,,, you will be gob smacked what you remember when you start the process.
It was an awesome journey when I wrote mine. These extracts are only from the book I wrote for the kids.
I have another worts and all that takes me from age 15 through to mid 30's. This makes for interesting reading, so I have been told anyway,,,,,,,
Are you serious, man what year were you there. I know I know, not nearly as far back as me!Quote:
Originally Posted by lorrieandjas
We lived at 25 Best rd Seven hills, thats after living at 25 Zambezi Rd.
Some awesome memories there my friend and some not so good ones as well, but thats what life's all about. The Good, The Bad and the Ugly!
Hey mate - was there in 1980. Used to ride from Toongabbie to Seven Hills up Best Rd all the time! Went to Grantham High as well. I was on Ross St.Quote:
Originally Posted by The BigFella
Jas
Let me see, in 1980 I had been left school for 18 months. My dad had his nervous breakdown and I was working odd jobs around the district.Quote:
Originally Posted by lorrieandjas
From memory we left Best rd in 1974, phukk that makes me sound old!
Mind you, I dont feel old, nor do I act old! Or so Ive been told,,,,,,,,,
We moved back to the bush after this stint in the big smoke!
You can read about that in the next extract,,,,,lol,,,,,
Well in '74 I was just born so we were there at different times for sure! Went back there a couple of years ago and how the place has changed!Quote:
Originally Posted by The BigFella
Jas
"The Smell of times gone bye!"
As Anne and I walked through a product pavilion at the Murrumbateman Field Days one year I was taken on a journey, back to the summer of 1968.
We were getting ready to leave Aunty Flora’s to travel back to Tumbarumba after Christmas Lunch.
My cousin Michael was chasing me down the road when you guessed it, over I went sprawled out on the bitumen after an ankle tap, he was another individual that gained great pleasure from seeing me bleed! Why, once he placed Drawing Pins or tacks all around his bedroom, called me in from the lounge room and when I was inside his room turned off the light, slammed the door shut and chased me around the room! Needless to say when Dad told me I had to stay with Uncle Chicka and Aunty Flora I wasn’t very happy! Anyway, following my “trip” down the road it was straight inside washed the gravel out and Aunty dabbed the graze with “Rawleys” the same ointment that I could smell on display in front of us.
I asked the lady what it was.
She informed me it was “Anti-septic salve” and told me the recipe had not differed from those early days.
We still use this Rawleys ointment today for our own kids! I have fond memories each time I take the lid off!
In 1969 I was joined by my brother Paul, I can still remember hiding in the grass as Kevin Wake and I watched dad drive back and forth along the road between our properties. Dad was looking for us because Mum was having Paul in hospital as we hid! Pretty normal behaviour for a 5yr old boy in training to be an elite solder!
After school mum would often ask me to entertain or sing nursery rhymes to Paul so she could get some house work done, mum would call me her little saviour! Paul and I were never very close until later years due I guess to our age difference.
Later in life we became close mates and I still cherish his friendship today!
Nana and Pa Sherriff often called Paul “Ned Kelly” as he was always either in trouble or trouble was very close behind him.
If there was a puddle to get wet Paul was in it!
If there were stones to be thrown Paul was throwing them! He always managed to find some trouble no matter where we were.
Paul was lucky enough to be given a slug gun for Christmas one year, not all that unusual in the bush.
Well Mum and Dad were livid when they learned that Paul and one of his mates had shot out the windows of an old truck parked in some bloke’s back yard. Paul didn’t do the shooting but he was there. So he only had the slug gun for a week or two, then it was taken off him.