We searched in Myer, Grace Bros. and Sydney Wide before we bought a ‘Cadiz’ suite for our bedroom, from Col Buchan Discounts on the Kingsway, in Miranda. It is of a dark colour and cost us eight hundred and ninety-eight dollars. We have arranged to have it delivered after our new carpet is laid. We walked home in a jovial mood, in spite of a heavy overcast that threatened to drench us.

Tiki watched the film, “Tarzan And The Valley Of Gold”, from 1965, which features Mike Henry, as Tarzan, and Nancy Kovack. Cliff Richard was supposed to appear on “The Mike Walsh Show”, but cancelled his appearance. Jade Hurley stood in for him at the last minute and performed a medley of Roy Orbison’s hits.

This afternoon we set out for the city to attend Cliff Richard’s concert. It began at half past six in the Regent Theatre, in George Street near to the south-west corner of its intersection with Bathurst Street.

A young woman, with long blonde hair, screamed five ‘songs’, and, after an interval of fifteen minutes, Cliff appeared before the mostly young audience. Dressed in black trousers, a black sequined T-shirt, a white coat and shoes he began by singing his first hit, “Move It”, which he originally recorded in 1958.

Unfortunately, for us, he then deviated towards performing up-tempo new songs, thereby getting right away from the seventy or so hits already under his belt in his native Britain. I was personally disappointed that he did not perform more ballads although he did sing what he said was his favourite song, “Miss You Nights”, which was released last year.

Cliff was supported by a band of five or six members, a pianist and two vocalists. Everyone on stage was male. Terry Britten, who along with The Little River Band’s Glenn Shorrock, was a member of the Australian group, The Twilights, in the mid-to-late 1960s, was present. He wrote Cliff’s hit of last year, “Devil Woman”, which has really opened doors for the singer in the United States after nearly two decades of endeavour.

In fact, “Devil Woman” was the last song of the evening, apart from a solitary number, performed as an encore. I attended Cliff’s concert in October of 1973 at the Sydney Opera House, which was held on the evening of the day after Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II had officially opened the building. Cliff appeared on a double bill with Harry Secombe, and I must say I enjoyed that concert far more than this evening’s.

The concert finished by five minutes to nine after those on stage had thrown streamers into that part of the audience below us. We crossed George Street and sat upstairs in the Parisienne Pussycat Restaurant. Two servings of raisin toast, a hot Vienna chocolate and a cappucino cost us two dollars and seventy-five cents in total.

The crowd, which was assembling for Cliff’s second concert, blocked the footpath outside the Regent and members of the police force were on hand to guide passers-by round it.

Tiki stated that she had been quite unimpressed by Cliff’s performance, adding that he was “too in love with himself” and the audio “too loud”.

We awoke just prior to 6.50 and arose just prior to 7.00. Our intension is to drive north to the region of New South Wales known as the Mid-North Coast and stay in accommodation that we will ascertain upon our arrival, in the regional town of Forster.

Prior to our departure, we noted that Channel 9’s ‘Weekend Today’ was being presented from Queensland’s Gold Coast from where Australian television’s awards, the Gold Logies, are to be presented this evening. Belinda Russell, Jayne Azzopardi and Charles Croucher were in the studio while the programme’s elderly reporter, Richard Wilkins, on what passes these days as ‘entertainment’, could be seen driving around in an electric buggy. The show’s reporter of the weather, Dan Anstey, is in the Gold Coast’s hinterland, at Mount Tamborine.

Channel 7’s corresponding programme, ‘Weekend Sunrise’, was as per yesterday with its co-presenters being Sally Bowery and Matt Doran. Sally relieved the absent Monique Wright. Natarsha Belling, who was formerly with Channel 10, read the news and presented the sport. The weather presenter, James Tobin, who’s in his early forties, presented his weather reports from a shop, in Rozelle, Sydney, that sells bicycles, as he advised the viewer to switch to riding one as the price of petrol has reached as much as two dollars and thirty cents per litre.

We turned the television off at eight o’clock, having witnessed the latest footage of America’s President, Joe Biden, having taken another tumble, this time from his stationary pushbike, right in front of those who were awaiting to interview him.

Once we had reached our destination and settled into our accommodation we drove to the sands of Seven Mile Beach, in order to exercise our dog and stretch our legs. There were only a few riders on their surfboards, down towards its southern end. Tiki began picking up sticks and throwing them for our canine to retrieve, only to have the latter display a greater interest in prancing about with them in her mouth, prior to gnawing at each one.

As it nearing mid-winter we showered and settled down to watch the circa 1964 film, ‘Clambake’. Apart from Elvis Presley, it features Bill Bixby of ‘The Incredible Hulk’, Will Hutchins (‘Sugarfoot’) and Shelley (‘The Donna Reid Show’) Fabares.

The ‘Seven Afternoon News’ was read by Angie Asimus, with the prominent cheekbones. It is reportedly going to cost the state government of Premier, Dominic Perrotait, twenty-five million dollars to erect a flagpole atop the Sydney Harbour Bridge in order to fly the Aboriginal flag alongside that of the nation and state. Matt Carmichael presents the sport and Angie, the weather report.

The ’10 News First’ screens between 5.00 and 6.00 and is read by the veteran, Ms Chris Bath. Amanda Jason reports on the weather, and Scott Mackinnon, supplies the coverage of sport.

Mr Chris Smith hosts ‘Chris Smith Tonight’ on Sky News’s Channel 53, between 6.00 and 7.00. Chris is furious that the government plans to spend the twenty-five million dollars to fly permanently what he perceives will be a divisive flag on the Harbour Bridge. The proposed flagpole would be the third such flagpole on the Bridge, with the current second such pole being used alternately to display the state or Aboriginal flags.

Chris’s first guest is the former federal politician, Mark Latham, who is currently the leader of the party, One Nation, in New South Wales and of whom we’ve not seen in some six weeks. Other guests include Hollie Hughes, a Liberal senator, who represents New South Wales, and Graham Richardson, a former minister in the Labor Party.

Smith refers to the Russian leader, Vladimir Putin, as being a “pariah”, “delusional” and “evil in the extreme”, as Russia’s attempt to annex Ukraine nears its fourth month. Chris interviews Inna Sovson, a Ukrainian M.P., who relays, via satellite from Kyiv, just what the situation is like in her country.

Chris’s other guests are Prue MacSween, a social commentator; Caroline Di Russo, a contributor to Sky News; and Kristy Carr, the C.E.O., of Bubs Australia. She speaks live from Ohio where it is 4.50 a.m. The company in recent days answered President Biden’s call to send its baby formula to America, due to there being a shortage.

The official debut of ‘Erin’ follows between 8.00 and 9.00. Its presenter is Erin Molan, the daughter of the Senator, Jim Molan. Erin is the mother of a girl of four years. Her opening guest, this evening, is Sky’s Jenna Clarke, who hosts another programme, ‘The Front Page’. Other guests include David Pocock, a newly elected independent senator for the Australian Capital Territory. He is a former ‘Wallaby’, having represented Australia at rugby union.

Another guest of Erin’s, is her previously mentioned father, Jim, a retired Major General. He states that war in our region is not only likely, but probable. Other guests include 2GB’s Michael McLaren and businesswoman, Kellie Sloane.

‘Paul Murray Live’ followed between 9.00 and 10.00. Its host Paul Murray is an obese smoker of cigars, who, despite only being in his mid-forties, already possesses a beard of grey. The first half of each programme features an outspoken monologue from Paul. His guests, in this evening’s latter half, include the ubiquitous Michael Kroger, a former president of the Victorian Liberal Party; the outgoing senator, Amanda Stoker; Linda Scott, a councillor, who represents the City Of Sydney; James Ashby, Senator Pauline Hanson’s Chief Of Staff, and Teena McQueen, the Liberal Party’s Vice-President.

The sixty-second ‘TV Week’, ‘Logie Awards’ are being held tonight, on the Gold Coast. The awards are named in honour of the British inventor of television, John Logie Baird.

Although we retired for the night shortly after ten o’clock, our accommodation’s external lighting system was to keep us awake, seemingly for hours, as our bedroom’s curtains were too sheer.

Dense fog closed Sydney Airport this morning. “Mum” and “Dad” left from there, this afternoon, on a round-the-world trip. It is their second such trip in two years.

At 6.00 p.m., on Channel Two, I watched a programme of the “Last Of The Wild” documentary series, narrated by Lorne “Bonanza” Greene. “Willesee” included an interview with British rock star, Brian Ferry. He appears to be a well-mannered, articulate chap who has had an education of quality. He confessed that he is more of an introvert than an extrovert and, for this reason, dislikes interviews.

The motion picture, “Trapped Beneath The Sea”, from 1974, is shown from half past seven. It stars the late Lee J. Cobb, Martin Balsam and Paul Michael “Starsky And Hutch” Glaser.

 

The documentary, “The Year Of The Wildebeest”, narrrated by the veteran English actor, James Mason, is shown on Channel Seven from 7.30 p.m. A number of animals are seen to drown and/or be torn apart by crocodiles, as they instinctively attempt to cross a river.

“Policewoman”, the perennial police drama series, which stars Angie Dickinson, as Pepper Anderson, and Earl Holliman, follows from half past eight on this same channel.

Tiki had chided me the other day for not having placed my shoes gently on the carpet upon their removal. Therefore, this evening, when she asked me to fetch her shoes and socks from our bedroom I painstakingly placed them at her feet ever so gently, only to be told that the shoes were, indeed, facing in the wrong direction. I carefully lifted them and at a height of about thirty centimetres, allowed them to fall freely.

 

 

I have only managed to get four of the twenty score draws in ‘The Pools’. Not that it really matters for the first prize is estimated to be just four dollars due to the record set for the number of such draws.

This afternoon has been an autumnal one with just a scattering of light cloud and a zephyr to accompany it. We watched an episode of the perennial British sci-fi series, “Dr Who”, from half past five, on Channel Two.

Donnie Sutherland, the presenter of the series, “Sounds Unlimited”, is in hospital in a serious condition having been involved in a car accident near Gosford.

The air traffic controllers, who went on strike from midnight on Friday, have voted to stay out until next Friday, at least. “Mum” and “Dad” flew out, bound for Germany, just last Thursday.

“Seven’s Big League”, at 6.30, depicts Western Suburbs’ impressive performance to defeat the more highly fancied Eastern Suburbs by twenty-two points to fourteen. This is followed by “This Is Your Life”, which is hosted by the amiable Roger Climpson. This evening’s programme centres upon that of Rose Ramsay, the founder, in Australia, of Parents Without Partners.

At eight o’clock, and also on Channel Seven, comes another in the series, “The Practice”. It features Danny Thomas as an ageing medical practitioner and is supposed to be a comedy although it fails to raise a laugh from us. “Barefoot In The Park”, a film from 1967, which was written by Neil Simon and stars Jane Fonda and Robert Redford, follows from half past eight.

Prime Minister, Malcolm Fraser, is interviewed by radio personality, John Laws, this morning. “The Mike Walsh Show”, on Channel Nine, was hosted by Sue Smith and included among its guests a female impersonator.

Seventeen people, in Melbourne, have been diagnosed as having typhoid. This represents the worst outbreak of the disease, in Australia, for twenty years.

This evening, we watched “Flashez”, on Channel Two, which was followed by Lorne Greene’s “Last Of The Wild”. On “Willesee”, a woman is shown having her tubes tied whilst only under local anaesthetic.

The popular African-American series, “Good Times”, is shown from half past seven. The cast of this comedy includes Jimmie Walker, as James ‘J.J.’ Evans Jr, Esther Rolle and John Amos who play his parents, Florida Evans and James Evans Sr.

The penultimate edition of Bill Peach’s “Holiday” series appears, from eight o’clock, on ABC-TV’s Channel Two. Tonight, the viewer is transported to the Northland region of New Zealand, which is situated above Auckland on the North Island; before being taken pheasant shooting near Launceston, Tasmania.

Still on Channel Two, and from ten past nine, we sat through the first part of “Wings”. It centres upon the men who signed up to fly as fighter pilots during the First World War. ‘The Dervishes Of Kurdistan’, a documentary in the series, “The Disappearing World”, follows from ten to eleven. It explores the lives of those people who live on the border of Iraq and Iran, between the Black and Caspian seas.

At midnight, on Channel Nine, the movie is “The First Time” is screened, with Jacqueline Bisset and Wes Stern portraying the principal roles. It was produced in 1969.

 

It is teeming with rain this morning. At noon, on Channel Seven, another edition of “Sonny And Cher” is shown; followed at one o’clock by another in the British documentary series, “Survival”. This one was filmed around Lake Nakuru, in Kenya.

A leaden overcast is accompanied by periods of rain and a strong wind for the remainder of the day.

Tony Greig, the tall lanky captain of England, has been sacked after it was revealed overnight that he is just one of thirty-six of the world’s premium cricketers to have clandestinely signed up to play for a breakaway international troupe. This rebellion within the sport is the brainchild of Australian Kerry Packer, the owner of TCN Channel Nine which will televise the troupe’s matches. The names of thirteen of Australia’s current tourists are among the thirty-six.

This afternoon, at the Sydney Cricket Ground, City Firsts overwhelmed Country Firsts by thirty-six points to nil in rugby league’s annual encounter. Earlier, City Seconds, twenty-five, defeated Country Seconds, two. Not one player from Country has been selected to represent New South Wales in the team that is to meet Queensland.

It was twenty minutes past the hour of two o’clock when we awoke to the sound of our digital clock radio and finished placing the belongings we have brought on this holiday, into the ‘Galant’. Prior to our departure I noted that its odometer showed that the sedan had already covered thirty seven thousand, eight hundred and thirty-seven miles.

Having departed right on schedule at three o’clock, I turned off President Avenue at Kirrawee in order that Tiki could place our smelly rubbish into a bin. “You To Me Are Everything” by the British group, The Real Thing, which went to number one in Britain around the middle of last year and is only now emerging as a hit in Sydney, was the first song played after the “2UW News” which had commenced on the hour.

It was evident that some rain had fallen between Liverpool and Marulan. Dawn began to break just before we reached the latter. The Hume Highway has been improved enormously since I drove my late mother back to Sydney from Kyabram in January of 1970. There are many lengths of dual carriageways as well as lanes which provide motorists with the opportunity to overtake.

I drove through Goulburn via Auburn Street. The temperature there was forecast to reach a maximum of twenty-eight degrees Celsius. David Soul’s “Silver Lady”, and Lesley Gore’s “You Don’t Own Me”, from 1964, were played on 2GN. By the time we stopped in Yass, at twenty-five minutes to seven, I’d covered a hundred and eighty-six miles without a break.

We each ate an apple prior to walking up and down Comur Street, which is really just the name the town has bestowed upon the Hume Highway, in a fruitless attempt to purchase a cup of coffee. In fact the centre of town led me to compare it to the proverbial morgue.

At a Shell service station, I found there to be little service as the obese attendant left me to watch the bowser and it was a matter of sheer luck that I managed to stop the pump’s price at exactly three dollars. The euphemistically named rest rooms were filthy and I can assure you that the thought of having a rest there was the farthest thing from my mind! In fact, my body gave an involuntary shudder after I’d stepped outside.

Tiki drove the sixty miles to Gundagai. I was critical of the fact that she was speeding and, in doing so, getting too close to the rear of trucks whose tyres were all too frequently flicking up stones. We entered the town at ten past eight and parked in a shady position in front of the park at the corner of the main street and the Hume Highway.

Having walked up past the Niagara Cafe we turned around, in the belief that everything was closed. It was then that we noticed the sign outside of the Criterion Hotel on the corner, which advertised breakfast between the hours of eight and nine. Two glasses of pineapple juice, four slices of toast with marmalade, and two cups of coffee with milk only cost us two dollars.

I drove on as we listened to 2WG which emanates from Wagga Wagga where the maximum was predicted to reach thirty-six. Among the songs the station played were “She” by The Monkees from 1967 and Jamaican Carl Douglas’s hit of three years ago, “Kung Fu Fighting”. An overturned blue Ford ‘Falcon’ sedan was situated by the roadside between the turn-off to Wagga, and the town of Tarcutta whose claim to fame is that the left-handed Tony Roche, a champion at tennis, was raised there. Two police cars were in attendance and two occupants of the crashed vehicle appeared to be recuperating on the ground nearby. Tiki sat behind the wheel at Holbrook and drove the forty miles to Albury.

Buck Owens and The Buckaroos’ “(It’s A) Monsters’ Holiday” from 1974 and Herman’s Hermits’ “Mrs. Brown You’ve Got A Lovely Daughter” (1965) were two of the tracks played on 2AY as we neared the city. We had covered three hundred and sixty-five miles when Tiki parked at the corner of Olive and Hume streets. It was exactly eleven o’clock when we set out to walk to the main street.

As we walked up and down Dean Street in the thirty-degree heat, we concluded that not only is it fairly short in length but unimpressive as well. Searching for somewhere to have lunch, we settled for the cafeteria in Coles. It was a real pity that Tiki had not adjourned to the so-called Ladies’ Lounge before we’d selected and paid for our food because Tiki rated this facility to be so dirty and uninviting that she returned to our table without having relieved herself. In fact, she told me of how she had had to summon up all of her willpower to suppress the urge to vomit.

It was, therefore, difficult for her to enjoy her chicken salad and me, my corn beef salad as all we could think about, in dread, was that those preparing the food were presumably using them too!

Noon had arrived by the time we left Coles and I seemed to drive around in circles as we searched in vain for a Shell petrol station. Eventually, I abandoned that idea and, instead, pulled into a B.P. for five dollars worth of super. The female attendant washed the car’s windscreen of her own volition.

I wanted to buy a cartridge of film for my Kodak instamatic camera, however, this involved driving around in search of a place to park. We ended up back in Olive Street, opposite where we had parked previously. This meant that we had to walk back to Dean Street, which didn’t impress Tiki as her sandals were hurting her feet. There we came upon a chemist shop where a roll of film cost four dollars and fifty cents. This I considered to be a reasonable price as I had paid just ten cents less for the same product two years ago. Processing of the film is also included in the price.

I drove up the hill that not only overlooks this city of thirty-three thousand inhabitants, but the meanders of the Murray River. Tiki didn’t want to get the camera out of the suitcase and I could foresee that if I attempted to do the same I’d more likely than not be unable to close it again and hence, no photographs were taken. The tall, white 1914-1918 War Memorial atop the hill had been defaced by vandals and a smaller monument in front of it had even had its plaque removed, presumably by thieves.

Returning to the city, I parked the car beneath a leafy tree opposite the botanical gardens which contained an abundance of shady trees, many of which were palms. We sat on a circular wooden seat that encompassed the trunk of a large tree. Nearby, a woman was breastfeeding her baby. Tiki stretched out and lay with her head on my lap for what was probably fifteen to twenty minutes before she suddenly exclaimed, “Let’s go to Wangaratta!”

“Now I know why it’s called Albury…because they can BURY it ALL!” I responded.

Tiki took me by surprise by driving directly across the state border in the incorrect lane, thereby, passing the fruit-fly inspection point whilst we had four apples and an orange in our possession.

We left High Street, the main street of the border town of Wodonga and by twenty past two — nearly twelve hours after our departure from home — had covered the forty miles to Wangaratta. The radio station, 3NE, informed us that the temperature was thirty-one with the predicted maximum of thirty-five still something for us to look forward to.

Tiki was pleased that I’d decided that we continue on past the caravan park with its ‘on site caravans and flatettes’ some three miles to the north of town. Wangaratta with a population of sixteen thousand five hundred, a sign informed us, is Victoria’s ‘Premier Town’, not only for this year but nineteen seventy-six as well.

At the Flag Inn Motel on the southern side of town, we enquired as to the price of a double room and were told it was twenty-one dollars and fifty cents and that this excluded breakfast. Across the Ovens River, at the Coast To Coast Caravan Park, the sign read: “No o’nite vans”. Therefore, we decided to return to the other side of town where we entered the Tourist Information Centre. The girl told us that there were only two caravan parks with overnight vans and that both were located to the north of the town.

One was on the left and the one we’d noticed on the way in, on the right. Neither of us liked the appearance of the first one, The Regal, so we continued on to the other. I rang the bell at the office, as Tiki waited in the car. A pleasant woman of a similar age to me came across from the adjoining Shell service station and after she’d deciphered her husband’s handwriting, decided that there was one flatette, with its own shower, for twelve dollars.

I talked it over with Tiki and it was concluded that we could do better than a flatette right on the busy Hume Highway. Therefore, I returned to the woman and apologised for having taken her time.

Back in town and away from the main street, I entered a hotel and wearily provided the licensee with my name and address before he informed me that a double room with breakfast would cost us twenty-four dollars. He became abrupt and rather rude when I declined his offer.

Having left the ‘Galant’ at a parking meter, at a cost of five cents for one hour, I entered another hotel where a woman quoted me twenty-nine dollars. By this time Tiki was wearing her thongs and her patience, quite understandably, was wearing thin. In the main street, at the Bull’s Head Hotel — which is located next to the Albion at which I had a counter lunch in November of 1974 — the chap was exceptionally friendly. He said that there was only one double, however, it had already been booked for eighteen dollars. His suggestion was to try next door or across the street, but I didn’t.

Tiki consumed the contents from a tin of ‘Rondo’ and I, a ginger beer. Unexpectedly, it was then that she caught sight of the sign: ‘Motel’. It pointed to the side street which was signposted Ely Street. Setting out on foot we came to the Central Wangaratta Motel and when the lady told us that a double room cost nineteen dollars and fifty cents and that this included breakfast, we gladly accepted.

Returning to the car by half past three, I found that there were ten minutes left on the meter. Fortunately, we had brought a spare key to the car’s ignition as, in her wearisome state, Tiki had locked the vehicle with the key still in the ignition.

Our room overlooks the park below. At four o’clock we tuned the black and white television to GMV’s Channel Six, which has very few advertisements when compared to Sydney’s commercial channels, and watched a programme of the series, “Bonanza”, in which Sally Kellerman’s character makes advances to Hoss, played by the late Dan Blocker.

A new version of “The Mickey Mouse Show” followed at five o’clock and at half past the hour, “Land Of The Lost”. “The Bill Cosby Show” followed thirty minutes later. We’ve not watched this series before. The news bulletin at half past six is on relay from Melbourne.

The mercury reached thirty-two degrees Celsius here today and it is positively stifling in this room, notwithstanding the fact that the air-conditioning is running.

“She must have put it on heat!” Tiki quipped.

Although we have the fan on, there is little benefit to be gained from it either!

At seven o’clock “The Muppet Show” has Kay Ballard as its guest. Accompanied by a huge loveable muppet, she sings and dances to “Oh Babe, What Would You Say?”. “This Island Earth”, a film which was produced in 1955, follows at half past the hour. Its cast includes Rex Reason, Faith Domergue, Russell “Gilligan’s Island” Johnson and Jeff Morrow. We saw it, in colour, at Tiki’s parents’ when they were overseas this year.

Fifteen minutes later we turned the television off and left to walk up and down the Hume Highway, which in the centre of town bears the name of Murphy Street. There were too many youths of a rough appearance for my liking, using language to which a lady should not be exposed and consequently, after we’d each consumed a can of Eck’s ginger beer, we headed back to our motel. There are dispensers here in Wangaratta where one pushes a button and a drinking straw pops up.

Even with the door open and the fan on, the heat is so oppressive it’s suffocating. My eyes are understandably bloodshot, nevertheless, I notice that pterygium appears to be building in the inner corner of my right one and I certainly hope that I don’t have to have my eyeballs scraped, like “Brutus” had to!

At nine, we switched the television to Channel Four — RVN (Wagga Wagga)/AMV (Albury) — in order to watch James “Maverick” Garner in “The Rockford Files”, which this evening has Susan “Petrocelli” Howard as its guest star. Her character is kidnapped not once, but twice!

Tiki has worked out how to lock the door to our room from the outside. We’ve travelled four hundred and twenty-three miles today.

Hearing Craig Douglas’s “Kung Fu Fighting” today brought back memories of three years ago when, on the seventh of November, I set out on a driving holiday in my second-hand Volkswagen ‘Beetle’, which was already eight years old. Initially, my journey was meant to be a more relaxing one, but it didn’t take long before compulsion reared its head and in the ensuing calendar month I covered eight thousand and fifteen miles at an average of nearly two hundred and sixty miles per day.

My obsessive desire to be on the move meant that only once did I spend consecutive nights in the one location, Broken Hill. So disappointed was I in the fact that I’d had to do that, that I found it necessary to move diagonally across the street and spend the second night in a different hotel.

I’d resigned from my job, again, a fortnight before I left home and on that first Tuesday in November had ventured to Sydney’s Randwick Racecourse in an attempt to turn the six hundred dollars I had in my pocket into two and a half thousand, which I intended I would then spend on a holiday in England. I kept my money in my pocket until the tote betting opened some forty-five minutes before the running of the Melbourne Cup. Having pored over the odds in the newspaper I naively believed that they would at least be similar when betting commenced. The runner, “Igloo”, for example, which had been listed at thirty-three to one in the paper, opened at twelves. Such discrepancies threw my entire staking allocations into complete disarray and so I decided that in order to have any chance of returning a positive outcome I would have to totally exclude the champion mare and the favourite for the race, “Leilani”, safe in the knowledge that in order to win she would have to carry a record weight for a mare.

With my total stake divided unequally on perhaps half of the other runners I went up into the grandstand to watch the race on television. When “Leilani” found the front in the straight and was still in front with about a hundred metres remaining, I felt my heart sink. However, all was not lost because a runner suddenly flashed down the outside and although I didn’t know immediately just what it was, after the din from the rowdy spectators had subsided somewhat, I did hear someone call out the name of “Think Big”. This excited me because when I looked at my list of bets I saw that I had placed seventy dollars on it to win!

The horse that I had really come to back was a jumper from New Zealand, “Aito”, which was having its first Australian start in the next race. Nevertheless, when I joined the long queue to collect my return of nine hundred and sixty-eight dollars, I soon realised that I might not have any money with which to back it.

Perhaps I would have placed my nine hundred dollars on something else, had I not reached that window with just five minutes to spare? Anyway, I did reach that window and I did place nine hundred on the nose of “Aito”. He kept attempting to get to the front during the race but a despised outsider just as regularly denied the jockey of his intention and my potentially two and a half thousand dollars and intended trip to England finished in about fifth place.

I frittered away another eighteen dollars and in an attempt to leave the racecourse in profit, placed my remaining fifty on the nose of “My Friend Paul” in the last race on the card at Flemington. He started at twenty to one and to my surprise, and disappointment, finished a gallant second, beaten by the margin of three-quarters of a length. As I left the course, with literally thirty cents in my pocket, I quipped to my mate, “If my car breaks down, we’ll have to hitchhike!”

Still! If I had won and gone to England I wouldn’t have sold my car and spent seven weeks on holiday in New Zealand. Nor would I have met my future wife, Tiki! Isn’t it funny how unfortuitous circumstances can sometimes work out to be to one’s betterment?

The reason I have digressed from my month-long, marathon journey, is because on its second day I was up near Walcha, attempting to locate another station that played music, when, just four days after he’d cost me my nine hundred dollars, I stumbled upon a broadcast in which the race caller described the fact that “Aito” was in the process of winning by a margin of five lengths; this time having started at the odds of five to one, not two to one.

There were several other memorable moments over the course of that month. The second was having the windscreen of my car shattered when an oncoming timber-jinker flicked up a stone near Rathdowney in southern Queensland. I drove some eighty miles to Toowoomba during which time I experienced intermittent showers. I dreaded the thought of them tending to constant rain, for as it was the raindrops cut at my face as if they were tiny slivers of ice.

The gentleman who replaced the windscreen failed to seal it correctly and I had to return to Toowoomba that following day where he had another attempt, which, I was to learn at a later date, had also been unsuccessful.

A policeman in Inglewood told me that the road to Goondiwindi was passable to light vehicles such as mine and hence I set out to drive there. It wasn’t until I came upon a rising creek that I had my doubts. The flowing waters actually moved my vehicle sideways to such an extent that I had my right hand on the door handle, as the desire to use it to bale out became almost insuperable. When the depth lessened to the extent that the tyres regained their utmost traction I actually had to drive diagonally in front of a stationary semi-trailer in order to get to the left-hand side of the highway.

Some kilometres further on I rounded a bend only to be confronted by a cow as it nonchalantly sauntered across the road. Fortunately for me it was half way through its crossing and the highway was devoid of oncoming traffic, for when I depressed the car’s brake pedal there was a total lack of response. The crossing of the creek had rendered the brakes to be totally useless, in the short term.

En route to Broken Hill from Cobar, I came upon an adult emu with three chicks. As I approached, I reduced speed to allow the four to leave the highway. All seemed well until in their haste the chicks collectively ran to the right while the adult chose the opposite direction. By the time the mature bird realised what had transpired and abruptly turned around to rejoin them, my vehicle was in its path. The large bird crashed straight into the passenger door with such force that it was repelled off its feet.

I was so shaken by this totally unexpected encounter that I drove on for what probably was a further five kilometres before I alighted to inspect the large claw mark. I gave an involuntary shudder as I envisaged what could have occurred had the impact happened that split second earlier and the emu had found itself on the car’s convex boot lid. I imagined that in such an instance my vehicle’s speed, reduced as it was, would still have been sufficient as to have propelled the huge bird towards the windscreen.

Three young men in a ute passed me as I drove out from Broken Hill to inspect the Menindee Lakes. Having done so, its driver, in what I viewed as a premeditated action, used his right arm to irresponsibly toss an empty ‘tinny’ back in my direction. The beer can bounced once before it fortuitously passed by, about a metre to my right, at eye level.

It rained continuously on the day I travelled between Hay and Deniliquin. Abandoned roadworks were centred upon a recently graded length of road. No sooner had I driven on to this firm, smooth unsealed surface than I was introduced to a situation that conjured up the belief that I was driving on oily cambered glass. As if that wasn’t bad enough that section of the low-lying highway had been built up by some two to three metres above the surrounding countryside to negate the effects of flooding.

Almost immediately my vehicle began to snake from side to side across both lanes of the highway. Fortunately, there wasn’t another motorist in sight as I feverishly did battle with the steering wheel, just to remain on the highway. The brakes did nothing to slow the vehicle and panic had well and truly set in!

All I could do was to repeatedly turn the steering with an extreme sense of urgency as I rapidly approached each respective side of the road. All the time fearing that my own wellbeing, as well as that of the car’s, was in extreme doubt. The fact that there were no guardrails, in spite of the severity of the drop on either side, only served to heighten my terror and and dread.

Reaching the bitumen at the other end of this vitreous surface was the only reason I didn’t crash. Despite that section of roadway probably only having been some several hundred metres in length, the terrifying experience left me with a feeling of utter exhaustion.

By the time I reached Kiama on that penultimate day it had become a struggle just to extricate myself from the driver’s seat and when I did, I stood bent over as if I were an old man. The bonnet’s lock had long ceased to serve its purpose and as a consequence the engine was literally smothered in dust. Having arrived home, I was on my to have it steam cleaned when a young woman drove into the rear of my vehicle. As she appeared to be at least partially stoned and as I could detect no visual damage to the car, I continued on only to reach the service station and discover that the rear bumper bar had been forced forward to the extent that I could no longer obtain access to the engine.

Pique overcame me and I offered the purchase of the vehicle to the young attendant for two hundred and seventy-five dollars. Luckily, for me, he was to begrudgingly decline my offer which was just as well for a month later I received five hundred and twenty-five for it. In the meantime he handed me a large shifting spanner and I hammered a decisive indentation into the top edge of the bumper bar so that entry to the engine could be restored.

The holiday had transported me as far north as Kingaroy and Nanango in Queensland, throughout New South Wales to as far as Cockburn on the state’s border with South Australia and to many and varied parts of Victoria. These included the town we’re in tonight.

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I awoke at 6.30 a.m. from a deep sleep. A heavy overcast is accompanied by a strong wind but it is not raining. At noon I turned on Channel Nine and “The Mike Walsh Show”. Guests include the Scottish singer, Andy Stewart, who is forty-three years of age and dressed in a kilt, and actress, Elaine “Number 96” Lee. At two o’clock in today’s edition of the series, “Medical Center”, Dr. Joe Gannon, played by Chad Everett, falls in love with a nurse (Barbara Anderson), only to learn that her long-lost husband has been located in a Vietcong prison camp. The couple had been married for just three days when he left for Vietnam and has a son who is now ten years of age.

The basis of the plot is somewhat like that used in the programme from the series, “Baa Baa Black Sheep”, which was screened last Saturday week.

In “Mannix” — which has Mike “Tightrope” Connors cast in the title role as a private detective — a girl, who has been in a coma for a year, regains consciousness and solves the hit-and-run crime by remembering who was at the wheel of the vehicle which struck her.

It is only sixteen degrees Celsius with the heavy overcast threatening to dump more rain on Sydney’s southern suburbs.

This year’s winner of the Sydney Cup, “Reckless”, trained by the legendary “Phar Lap’s” then strapper, Tommy Woodcock, started as the even money favourite when he won this afternoon’s running of the Adelaide Cup. “Straight Up” finished second.

Australian singer, Ray Burgess, presents the music that appears in “Flashez”, from half past five, on Channel Two. It is followed by “The Big Match”, in which Ipswich defeats West Ham by two goals to nil.

Cliff Richard is being interviewed by the comical Paul Makin on “Willesee”, at 7.00, on Channel Seven. Cliff, who was born as Harry Roger Webb, in Lucknow, India, will be thirty-seven years of age in October, but looks a deal younger. His career began in 1958 when he recorded his first hit, “Move It”.

“The Dick Emery Show” followed, also on Channel Seven, and from eight, on Channel Two, “In The Wild”, with Harry Butler, takes the viewer to an oasis in the Great Sandy Desert in order to make one aware of just how many animals have become extinct in the relatively short period of white Australian history.

Episode 17 of “Rich Man Poor Man: Book 2” screens from half past eight, on Channel Seven.

I firstly heard of the death of crooner, Bing Crosby, via the news broadcast this morning at half past eight. At the age of seventy-three, he had reportedly collapsed on a golf course in Madrid, whilst playing with three Spanish professionals.

In this same bulletin, it was stated that Mount Everest’s conqueror, Sir Edmund Hillary, had been taken seriously ill at a height of some five thousand metres in the Himalayas. Inclement weather is preventing his retrieval by means of a helicopter. Sir Edmund, a New Zealander, is fifty-seven years of age.

Before Tiki and I set out to walk to Miranda Fair, in drizzle, I weighed myself for the first time in ages. It surprised me when the needle pointed to just eleven stone, two pounds. In Myer, Tiki stood in a queue for twenty minutes to pay six dollars and thirty cents for a dark blue cardigan. A discount of ten per cent had reduced its price from seven dollars.

We walked home by way of Gymea, in conditions that bore high humidity. Having changed our clothes we headed for town. I parked in the parking station on Kent Street, at the rear of the Hoyts Cinema Centre, and paid three dollars and twenty-five cents for each of us to see “Rocky”, which was voted to be the best film of 1976. Its script was written by its principal actor, Sylvester Stallone.

A documentary on Mount Warning and Surfers Paradise was followed by an unimpressive cartoon which featured two blue anteaters. During intermission, we each devoured a packet of crisps.

At a quarter to five we crossed Kent Street in the rain and I drove onwards to Manly. As we were entering a marked lane on the Harbour Bridge, a light blue Holden sedan attempted to push up on the inside of our car and its driver had to brake suddenly. The vehicle could have easily skidded into us in the wet conditions. At least the young couple, with children, recognised who had been at fault.

As we crossed the Spit Bridge, it was mentioned on the “2UW News” that the grey, “Ming Dynasty”, at the odds of nine to one against, had won the one hundredth running of the Caulfield Cup from “Unaware” and “Salamander”. The winner is trained by J.B. (Bart) Cummings and was ridden by the New Zealand jockey, ‘Midge’ Didham.

I parked in the asphalt car park on Wentworth Street, facing the old buildings at its eastern end. Upon our entry to K’s Snapper Inn we were shown to the same table, in the rear section of the restaurant, which we had occupied just a few weeks ago. Tiki ordered a seafood cocktail for entree, followed by curried scallops and, for dessert, pavlova and ice-cream. My meal consisted of scallops kebab, a king prawn salad and the identical dessert to her. We drank two glasses of lemon squash each and concluded with a cup of cappuccino. The total bill for the three-course dinner came to twenty dollars and eighty cents.

At Tiki’s request, I drove to Tania Park on Dobroyd Point to look out through the rain at the lights. Ours was the only car there and when another containing four youths stopped suspiciously before slowly moving by, we agreed that we should drive on, just in case it were to reappear.

This time, I drove to Edgecliffe Esplanade, in Seaforth and we peered out over The Spit. We departed for home at eight o’clock and found that the city’s southern suburbs were bone dry. Fifty minutes later, we were in a position to watch the greater part of the British film, “Doctor In Trouble”, from the year of 1970. It stars Leslie Phillips and Harry Secombe.