Category: My Diary

During the course of my day, I spoke to an elderly lady whose son was stationed with the Royal Air Force, in India, during the Second World War. There he witnessed parents condemn their children’s lives to those of beggars. This was achieved by binding their hands extremely tightly while they formed clenched fists. Eventually, their nails would protrude through the backs of their hands, thereby, rendering them useless.

This evening, I walked and jogged to Miranda by a quarter to eight. The centre of the suburb was seemingly occupied by gatherings of young ruffians, who loitered about as they smoked.

The motion picture, “Torn Curtain”, screened on television from half past eight. Bearing the copyright of 1966, it stars Paul Newman and Julie Andrews.

 

An overnight thunderstorm has brought the first rain since the twelfth of July. Nonetheless, we have received but a small amount.

I helped “Dad” replace the heavy, old terrazzo sink, in the kitchen, with a second-hand stainless steel one, which he had been hoarding in his garage for years. He replaced the old brass fitting beneath the original sink with new, ess-shaped, plastic piping and used it to replace the squashed and split, lead pipe which had been leaking beneath the sink in the laundry. I then glued some plywood back in to place, for it had broken away from near our ‘new’ sink. “Dad” improvised by using an adjustable spanner as a clamp until the adhesive had dried.

He broke the dilapidated terrazzo sink top and sawed through its inbuilt steel rods. This permitted me to carry it, in halves, down to the front gates where I laid it in our gravel driveway to provide it with greater traction and stability.

Channel Two’s abridged “Top Saturday League” screened from six o’clock. It covered this afternoon’s clash from Jubilee Oval, in Kogarah. Playing on its home turf, St. George soundly defeated Manly-Warringah by 29-12; having led by nineteen points to four at half-time.

Following the ABC’s news bulletin, at half past seven I turned the dial in order that we could watch the elderly Buddy “The Beverly Hillbillies” Ebsen portray the private detective, Barnaby Jones, in the series of this name. An hour passed and then we returned to the ABC’s Channel Two, this time to watch “4 Corners”, which, this evening, is concentrating upon the threat to the Canadian nation should the province of Quebec secede.

The British comedy, “Carry On Cruising”, follows from twenty-five past nine. The film, which was produced in 1962, stars Sid James, Dilys Laye and Liz Fraser.

 

 

We paid forty cents to travel on the F6 “motorway” — I refuse to call it a ‘freeway’ — between Waterfall and the top of Bulli Pass. When we arrived at our friends’ house they took so long to answer the door, Tiki began to think that we had come on the wrong day. They claim that they cannot get much to grow in their garden because the soil is too poor. In addition their project home is sending out signs of distress as gaps appear between walls and flooring. Meanwhile, grout crumbles as tiles lift.

Following a game of backyard cricket and lunch, Ralph drove me, in his clapped-out manual Holden, up the Macquarie Pass to the town of Bowral in the Southern Highlands. I was somewhat surprised that his car was only seven years old, but, then again, it was obvious it hadn’t been cared for.

We each paid two dollars and fifty cents for a round of golf. Ralph began well and led me by four strokes after eight holes and by two after nine: forty-five to forty-seven. My nine holes included two pars and a birdie: at the 144-metre seventh, where I had sunk an uphill putt of twenty feet.

It was on the tenth that I sensed that I could win for the first time. Despite this sudden burst of optimism, it was really a case of the much taller and larger Ralph experiencing difficulties, as opposed to me excelling in any way. I parred only one hole on the inward nine: the par 4, fourteenth and three-putted five of its greens as I carded fifty. Ralph’s sixty meant that he had again failed to break one hundred on this particular course, at what he said was his twentieth attempt.

My ninety-seven was pleasing as I seldom play the game and it was my first at Bowral. I tended to blame the extreme cold — a golfer has to blame something! — which had quite suddenly descended upon the course, for me having carded an eight and a seven on the two closing holes. Ralph and I departed at half past five and passed the famed Bong Bong Racecourse, complete with its hill in the midst of the circuit’s circumference.

Following dinner, Ralph played some records by The Carpenters, Johnny Tillotson, Pat Boone and The Everly Brothers to name but a few. Ralph and Joyce attempted to teach Tiki and I to play five hundred before eventually abandoning the idea. We talked until half past ten.

The pair is on the breadline because in addition to having their own children to support, they have been providing food, clothing and accommodation for Joyce’s two younger sisters since the death of their mother.

My right ribs and left elbow are sore as a result of having played golf yesterday. I listened to John Laws, on this his birthday, on 2UW. I was particularly interested in his political comments, which were made in conjunction with Michael Shulberger who was formerly a reporter on Channel Nine’s “A Current Affair”.

 

“Willesee” devoted a segment to John Singleton’s book, ‘Rip Van Australia’. During the interview, the author stated that the Royal Australian Navy could only defend nine miles of Australia’s coastline at any one time. He later proceeded to comment that it would be a travesty if Australia were to be invaded in that space in time between the running of the legs of the Daily Double.

“Love Thy Neighbour”, at eight, features a huge spider that has crawled from a case of bananas. Half past eight issues in the penultimate episode of “Number 96”. Amidst this evening’s goings-on the Deputy Town Clerk, Reginald P. MacDonald, — played by Mike Dorsey — dresses in a blonde wig, underpants and shoes to spy, at the beach, for the ‘T.C.’

 

A lovely sunny morning heralded a bitterly cold start to the day of just seven degrees Celsius at half past six. The smog is dreadful, due to a lack of wind and the fact that Sydney has not received any substantial rain in what seems like more than two months. The afternoon, however, reached a delightful twenty-one degrees.

“Flashez”, on Channel Two at 5.30 p.m., afforded me the opportunity to view the vocal group, Boney M., for the first time. Half of an hour elapsed before the “Wild, Wild World Of Animals” examined the inhabitants of a coral reef in the Red Sea.

“Willesee” includes a segment on the racing of mice in Western Australia, in addition to an interview with the actor, Efrem Zimbalist Jr., who is fifty-four years of age. He is perhaps remembered best for his roles in the television series, “77 Sunset Strip” and “F.B.I.”.

Despite it being a documentary that was made for children, we viewed “My Mum’s Having A Baby” from half past seven. It ran for an hour.

My seven weeks’ holiday draws to a close today. I awoke from a surprisingly peaceful sleep, especially when it is considered that my ‘mattress’ consisted of nothing more than newspapers placed on the floor. The only moment in which I was disturbed was when Kevin had opened the door briefly and turned on the light, upon his return from the pub.

It was overcast and it had been raining, for when I looked out of the loungeroom’s window there was probably the most vivid of rainbows I had ever witnessed.

Harvey’s name is really Martin, but he is addressed as such because his father is of that name. If that makes sense?

I read in the newspaper of ‘Apollo Eleven’s’ win in yesterday’s running of the Chipping Norton Stakes, which was run under weight-for-age conditions at Sydney’s Warwick Farm Racecourse. Prize money for the race totals $10,000. ‘Jandel’ finished in second place and ‘Kia Maia’, third.

Nick, Marilyn and I were perusing sections of ‘The Sunday Times’. Nick turned his attention to yesterday’s edition of ‘The Christchurch Star’ and espied a photograph of Harvey, Steve, Wayne and himself at the start of the footrace. He drew a circle around the whole picture and each signed their name underneath it. They are going to visit the newspaper’s office on Tuesday to order enlarged copies of the photo. The four, as they put it, “wore skin” — that is, ran shirtless.

Nick pinned the photograph on the wall prior to stating, “You don’t need wallpaper.” New Zealanders appear to have somewhat of an obsession with wallpaper. They even defy gravity by covering their ceilings with it!

Marilyn walked to the shop for milk and butter. I had Weet-Bix, followed by toast and Vegemite which is something that I rarely consume.

I packed my belongings and walked out to the clothesline in the backyard to say goodbye to Nick and cautioned him to “go easy on the horses”. He, along with Marilyn, Shirley, Steve and Harvey bade me farewell at the front door. Nick commented on how relatively small my knapsack is and queried me as to why I was wearing it so low on my back.

I told him that I would write to him and inform him of my new address, when I obtain one.

My intention was to board a public bus to Cathedral Square, only to reach the bus stop at a quarter to eleven and note that the next arrival was not going to be until 12.14. This prompted me to walk on in the hope of being able to hitch a ride. When this proved to be unsuccessful I continued on foot via Selwyn Street, Moorhouse Street, in the direction of the railway station. I turned into Colombo Street and in Tuan Street, entered the depot of the company, Midland Buses.

Despite having entered its office at half past eleven, I learned that the next bus to the airport was not scheduled to depart until a quarter to one.

Leaving my belongings at the terminus, I walked down Colombo Street and entered Cathedral Square where I was to purchase an egg burger and a chocolate milkshake for a total cost of seventy cents at ‘Krispy Chip’, which I had previously noted displays red flashing lines on a neon sign at night. I wandered down High Street, having consumed my food in the Square. There, I located the ‘Copper Lounge’ where Sue, whom I met last night, works.

Upon my return to the terminus at ten past twelve, I waited for the remaining thirty-five minutes to pass and the bus’s  arrival. The young driver only had three passengers to convey. “At fifty cents each, I can’t see how they can make a profit?” the woman commented, as we were entering the terminal via a pair of automatic doors.

I wandered about somewhat prior to my location of the ‘Quick Service Snack Bar’, which tended to belie its name to some degree. There I consumed a porterhouse steak, at a cost of one dollar and eighty-five cents, and a large glass of milk (fifteen cents). This meant that I only had sixty-four cents left, in local currency, in addition to the two dollars required to cover the cost of my departure from the country.

There were quite a number of personnel present from the American Air Force when the call finally came to board QF 333 at a quarter to five. The majority of passengers performed what I can only describe as a charge, as if they were not in possession of a ticket after all. A hostess could be seen conversing with a gentleman who stood out on the tarmac and beneath the aeroplane, via means of a walkie-talkie, in order to receive confirmation of the moment when it was permissible to enplane.

My seat was numbered 2A, which was located at the front of the plane and next to the window. A couple, whom I had firstly noticed some hours before in the departure lounge, was seated next to me.

The view over the Canterbury Plains was quite magnificent, what with its bluish green rivers wending their way through the broad river beds on their journey towards the coast. Alas, a covering of cloud prevented the sighting of the Southern Alps, as the airliner climbed to a height of thirty-one thousand feet and, in accordance to the pilot passed over the town of Hokitika on the South Island’s west coast.

The married couple is from Launceston, Tasmania. The pair had travelled for fifteen thousand miles within Australia, via their own mode of transport and had spent twenty-three days in New Zealand, travelling in rental cars. They informed me that their Tasman rental car had been a ‘Valiant’ on the North Island, whereas on the South Island their rental from Avis was a Holden of some kind, which they pronounced to have been “most uncomfortable”.

We talked of Launceston and the pair informed me that a plaza is under construction in Brisbane Street. A new bridge of four lanes has also been built across the Cataract Gorge. The pair lives next to the racecourse, in the suburb of Mowbray, and has no children.

I took a photograph of the aeroplane’s engines for her after she had handed me her small Kodak ‘Instamatic’ camera. He is averse to flying, but realises that if he is to see such places he has to bear it. He took a copious amount of footage with his movie camera after I had relinquished my seat to him prior to our arrival in Sydney. Our flight from Christchurch passed over the Northern Beaches’ suburb of Curl Curl and inland over Ryde. When asked for suggestions on where they should spend their time, in Australia’s largest city, I nominated West Head, the Spit Bridge and Palm Beach. They appeared keen to visit the Royal Easter Show, as he is particularly interested in machinery.

We entered the airport at 6.30 p.m. and I waited beside the luggage roundabout for my rucksack to appear. When it did it was covered in a tawny orange liquid, for my container of anti-dandruff shampoo had burst open during the flight. Everyone was pointing to it as it passed by.

Having passed directly through customs, I learned that the bus to the city was waiting. “Cicular Quay, please”, I replied when the driver enquired as to where I was headed. The gentleman seated next to me commented, “I hope you have insurance?” as he claimed that the driver possessed a “wild” demeanour.

This, I had not experienced for upon boarding I had inadvertently given the large gentleman two one-dollar notes instead of one. He immediately returned my overpayment, as he remarked that there were “… not many of us left” — a reference to his honesty.

Prior to our departure he asked me to move to a single seat, that was adjacent to his own. He informed me that he had been driving cabs for twenty years and buses for five.

We headed for Kings Cross, having left one of the twenty-two passengers at Central Railway Station. A woman alighted at the Boulevard Hotel, which prompted him to then remark: “I hope she brought plenty of money!”

The Koala Motor Inn came next, thence the Florida and Manhattan hotels and, lastly, the Menzies, in Carrington Street, where a gentleman of Indian appearance complained about how long it had taken for him to be delivered. Upon his departure the driver turned to me and exclaimed, “What does he expect for one dollar!”

I waved him goodbye and was just in time to board the ferry to Manly, at eight o’clock. The ‘Royal Viking “Sky”‘ was berthed at the Overseas Passenger Terminal and, in passing, my eyes became transfixed on its acutely angled prow.

A small flock of seagulls flew close to the ferry’s port side, as if to guide me home. It was something that I had not witnessed before at such close quarters. Three men began to skylark around as the vessel passed The Heads and, hence, began to rock somewhat, as these lead to the open ocean. One wore a light orange, South African tee-shirt.

Having boarded the bus on the route, ‘132’, I arrived home at ten minutes to nine and found Bob and Ron to be watching their new colour television. Transmission in colour had only officially begun while I was away, on the first of March. Presumably, this country’s relatively small population has prevented us from receiving it prior to this, literally decades after some others.

Doug arrived afterwards, in a partially drunken state. He is in possession of a beard and a moustache, unlike prior to my departure, and confided in me that he had been so drunk on a couple of occasions that he’d been unable to remember just where his car was parked. He had even enlisted the assistance of the police in one such occurrence.

Once again it is a sunny, cold and smoggy morning which is accompanied by the light to very light breezes. I did some comparative shopping when I priced a pair of Adidas ‘Rome’ shoes at Myer, in Miranda Fair. There, the price was twenty-five dollars while at Williams and Grace Brothers it was $27.99. I did purchase a litre of Dulux ‘Tusk Ivory’, a large black spade and twenty metres of garden hose at Nock and Kirby, with each priced respectively at $5.15, $7.99 and thirteen dollars.

This evening we dined at the Black Stump Steak and Ale, which is located on the eastern side of the Princes Highway at Engadine. During our meal we consumed two glasses of lemon squash, two glasses of orange juice, two beef shish kebabs, an apple strudel — served cold, with cream — a slice of chocolate chip cheesecake, which was also served with cream, and received an after-dinner mint each with our coffee. The bill came to an extremely reasonable fifteen dollars and ten cents. We sat near to where we had sat when the restaurant was known as Lumbs.

We arrived home at ten to nine to find the cars of those attending our next-door neighbour’s Tupperware party parked everywhere. We watched the last forty minutes of the final episode of “Number 96”. The first of the serial’s one thousand two hundred and nineteen episodes was screened on the 30th of March, in 1972. Tiki and I have come to flippantly rename the series “Naughty Sex”.

Many of the actors and actresses — some of whom have been in the daringly explicit show since its commencement, for example Ron Shand (Herb), Pat McDonald (Dorrie) and Joe Hasham (Don) — said their goodbyes. ‘Dorrie’, quite understandably, shed a tear.

England, in the Fourth Test, had been 1-8, at 8.50 p.m., but at lunch had recovered to be one wicket down for seventy-six, at lunch, with Geoff Boycott on thirty-four and Bob Woolmer, thirty-three. Kerry Packer’s Channel Nine is providing a live telecast from Headingley, in Leeds.

It was already eighteen degrees Celsius when I awoke at twenty past six. As the minimum had not descended below sixteen point four degrees, Sydney had experienced its mildest night, in August, since 1954. A maximum of twenty-seven is forecast.

England is in a strong position at the end of the first day’s play in the Fourth Test, which is being played at Headingley, in Leeds. Already leading the series by two wins to nil, England is 4-252 at stumps. The veteran opener, Geoffrey Boycott, remains not out on 110, having registered his one hundredth century in first-class cricket and his fourteenth in Tests.

Dark clouds emitted heavy rain from half past twelve. This was to continue, intermittently, throughout the afternoon. England was 5-339 when I turned off the television at eleven o’clock. Geoff Boycott remained not out on 149 — his highest score against Australia.

England was dismissed overnight for 436, of which opener, Geoffrey Boycott, scored 191. He was also the last batsman to be dismissed. Australia, in reply, had crashed to be 5-67 at stumps. Rick McCosker is the top-scorer thus far, having been dismissed for twenty-seven.

“Gretel II” and the Swedish yacht, “Sverige”, are locked at one all in the pair’s Challengers’ semifinal of the America’s Cup.

At 9.00 a.m. “Mum” and “Dad” arrived for breakfast. While Tiki and her mother went shopping, “Dad” and I cut laminex to size and glued it at either end of the kitchen sink. After I had sawed some of the dead branches off the stump at the side of the drive, both of us crawled under the house to install a power point in the main bedroom. “Dad” placed it behind our bed but in doing so dirt from his shoes marked the new carpet.

Meanwhile, the pair returned bearing a blind and crossover curtains for our bedroom. The blind had cost twenty-five dollars and the curtains seventeen. “Dad” and I hung both of them before lunch. It wasn’t until we removed the old curtains that we found the power point for which we had earlier been searching.

After lunch we crawled on our stomachs until we were under the lower, rear end of the house. “Dad” drilled through the floor in order to put a power point in the second bedroom. I extended the coil of white conduit to the small black junction box and used a pair of pliers to sever it as “Dad” secured its length to a beam by bending over rusty nails that were already there. With me poking the other end of the conduit up through the floor, “Dad”, who was now in the second bedroom, fashioned a wire coat-hanger which then enabled him to pull it up through the cavity in the wall.

Unfortunately, the soles of his shoes again soiled the new carpet, only this time the mark is right in the centre of the room. Tiki’s parents departed at ten past five, leaving us to watch the remainder of “Jeopardy”, and “It’s Academic”, which are both hosted by Andrew Harwood. A corny “Julie Andrews: My Favourite Things”, with Peter Sellers, followed the news.

I was going to go for a walk, however, the sky held the promise of further rain and so I stood, instead, on our front fence to see what I could see of Tiki as she stood in our bedroom at varying distances from our new, drawn blind.

“The Searchers”, a western movie from 1956, screened at half past seven. It stars John Wayne, the late Jeffrey Hunter, and Natalie Wood. At twenty to ten I turned the dial to watch the live telecast of the Fourth Test. Australia was dismissed for just 103. Only David Hookes and Richie Robinson managed to join McCosker in double figures, having scored twenty-four and twenty respectively. At lunch, Australia, is 2-35 in its second innings. Without wanting to detract from England’s performances in this series, I cannot help but think that their signing to Kerry Packer’s breakaway troupe must be weighing on some players’ minds.