The other week, while rearranging the junk one collects and stores in the garage, I was interrupted and left a stack out of place. Driving the car back in left almost no room for the roller door to close, and me to walk safely behind it when the roller closed.
I pulled the lever and the roller started to close. To get back into the house, I had to step outside because the car was in the way. Obviously, one has to be on the right side of quick. Katie yelled out “duck.” This I successfully did, but it fired a memory of my maternal grandfather.
When we were very young tackers, my brothers, cousins and I would pile into Grandad’s Vanguard sedan. No seat belts or safety restraints then. When approaching the railway bridge at East Maitland he would yell out “duck.” How naïve and obedient to commands we all were! We would all duck as we went under the bridge, and this brought great rolls of mirth from Grandad. He would always stop and buy us all an icy-pole, a treat we appreciated and the main reason we got into his car.
Years later, I learned the Grandad was an S.P. Bookmaker and during this drive he would visit the few recalcitrant punters that needed a reminder to pay up. I still fondly recall those drives.
Well, I must live in a cave because this is the only trigger that has triggered a response, unless Roy Roger’s horse Trigger counts.
Graeme Morris
Sunday 27 November
STOP PRESS 1727 Hours Sunday 27 Nov 2022
Assiduously working on my family tree while listening to Hits of the 1960’s, the sounds of “I want to be Bobby’s Girl” fill the room, bringing back a memory of my boyhood barber, Mac. His surname was McMaster, but I only knew him as Mac. Short back and sides Mac, until the College Cut became fashionable, then long hair.
Back to Mac. The barbers’ shop was in Josephine St. Riverwood and the El Torro milk bar was next door, on the corner with Belmore Rd. The El Torro was the haunt for teenagers, (read Bodgies and Widgies) had a juke box and from Aug 1962 “I want to be Bobby’s Girl” was relentlessly played, rising to No 3 on the hit parade. Well, the equation
I pulled the lever and the roller started to close. To get back into the house, I had to step outside because the car was in the way. Obviously, one has to be on the right side of quick. Katie yelled out “duck.” This I successfully did, but it fired a memory of my maternal grandfather.
When we were very young tackers, my brothers, cousins and I would pile into Grandad’s Vanguard sedan. No seat belts or safety restraints then. When approaching the railway bridge at East Maitland he would yell out “duck.” How naïve and obedient to commands we all were! We would all duck as we went under the bridge, and this brought great rolls of mirth from Grandad. He would always stop and buy us all an icy-pole, a treat we appreciated and the main reason we got into his car.
Years later, I learned the Grandad was an S.P. Bookmaker and during this drive he would visit the few recalcitrant punters that needed a reminder to pay up. I still fondly recall those drives.
Well, I must live in a cave because this is the only trigger that has triggered a response, unless Roy Roger’s horse Trigger counts.
Graeme Morris
Sunday 27 November
STOP PRESS 1727 Hours Sunday 27 Nov 2022
Assiduously working on my family tree while listening to Hits of the 1960’s, the sounds of “I want to be Bobby’s Girl” fill the room, bringing back a memory of my boyhood barber, Mac. His surname was McMaster, but I only knew him as Mac. Short back and sides Mac, until the College Cut became fashionable, then long hair.
Back to Mac. The barbers’ shop was in Josephine St. Riverwood and the El Torro milk bar was next door, on the corner with Belmore Rd. The El Torro was the haunt for teenagers, (read Bodgies and Widgies) had a juke box and from Aug 1962 “I want to be Bobby’s Girl” was relentlessly played, rising to No 3 on the hit parade. Well, the equation
springs to mind, and without boring you with the details it had elements of frequency played, decibel level, brain absorbance v irritability, divided by intolerance of teenage culture and the ratio of Mac’s prejudice to pop music and his temper v fits of pique.
Well, one day, poor old Mac cracked it. He stormed into the milk bar and kicked the juke box causing some damage. The Police were called and he ended up in court. He was given a bond and, dad told me later in life, there was a whip around to defray the costs of repairs. It must have been a decent kick.
My recollections of this come from overhearing my parents talk about Mac’s demise. I do recall him going crook about the song when it played during a hair- cut, but being 11 at the time, pop music was not on my radar.
The only other thing I remember about Mac is he lived in Five Dock, had a son named Arthur and was a rusted-on Labor voter.
Well, one day, poor old Mac cracked it. He stormed into the milk bar and kicked the juke box causing some damage. The Police were called and he ended up in court. He was given a bond and, dad told me later in life, there was a whip around to defray the costs of repairs. It must have been a decent kick.
My recollections of this come from overhearing my parents talk about Mac’s demise. I do recall him going crook about the song when it played during a hair- cut, but being 11 at the time, pop music was not on my radar.
The only other thing I remember about Mac is he lived in Five Dock, had a son named Arthur and was a rusted-on Labor voter.
Bobby's Girl was a one hit wonder.
Graeme
Graeme
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