Epilogue

EPILOGUE

I started writing a journal when my parents passed away- more for cathartic purposes, than commencing a chronological biographical.

Then through encouragement from Peter Richardson, who has been mentoring me on social media, I commenced writing about my travels and anecdotal experiences till now.

Living as closely as I did with my parents as an only child over their early years of struggle must have shaped and conditioned me as only a psychiatrist could determine. As an only child I was lonely, wishing so much for a brother or sister, so envious of blokes at school who had both.

Later I sometimes wondered about my father, if war had not broken out and had he not met Mum and been forced so early into marriage and fatherhood. What his life may have been ?

When I was going to Newington for all those years (1949 - 1959) called a "LIFER". someone who started in first class in the prep, at Wyvern House and finished their final year, in the Main school.Each morning I would drive with Dad and Mum to Milsons Point Station where he would leave the car.We took the train,Dad and Mum to Wynyard and myself to Stanmore. I remember,I was in the school cadet uniform, which I hated, with my Mother in the train, when I overheard some bloke say to his mate looking at 13 year old me "Thank Christ we've got a Navy".

As I got older, I used to think, seeing all these people in the train, dressed in  suits, herded in like sheep, standing on each others toes, every day doing this for the rest of their working lives, that it was not for me.I also detected that my father used to to wonder if there was more to it all.

I enjoyed the prep school, as there were several teachers I got along with - Miss Pearce, Don Brown. The main school was different, there was not one teacher that I liked and that probably went both ways. The only aspect I liked was the sport; rugby, rowing and athletics.That is the defining feature of private schools over public, their sporting facilities.Newington was a hard disciplinary school when I was there, the cane was used plenty and I often was on the receiving end. Their was a school sergeant major, Mr Goldsmith who was also the physical training instructor, he had a whistle and the eye of a hawk, if he saw anyone out of bounds or up to no good you'd hear his whistle across the grounds, which were large and you knew someone was in for some pain. they would have to report to him and right there, attached to his whistle he had this leather plaited strap, that he would put across your arse about three time, it used to sting like fuck.


Maths was not my strong subject, I dropped it in my final year, the humanities were my strong subjects. Jack Butler my final year maths teacher asked me " do you have an idea what your doing when you leave here" I replied "travel and probably become an international news correspondent" he said "well  Mathers you don't need maths for that, sit up the back and don't disturb any of the others".

On my last day of school before "swat vac" in the last period before break up, two of us went up to the "castle", this was the Main Schools' toilet block built of sandstone in the shape of a small castle, for a cigarette.One of the masters, Phil Davis, saw the two of us going for what he presumed correctly was a smoke. He sent another student to check out what we were up to , he reported back the obvious. We were then told to go to the deputy headmasters office, where we received six of the cane each.The other bloke, Howard Sneddon, had acne badly, not only on his face, but over his back. He went in first and after about three cuts of the cane I heard "fuck you"! Out of the office he came, bawling.Harry Dean never had the reputation for being a big hitter, so I was surprised at Sneddon's reaction. I went in and received six, then went back up to the Castle where I knew he would be. He was there with shirt off and trousers down to his knees. His lower back where Dean had miss hit him was a, red mess of blood and puss from the cane, which had broken his flesh where his acne was. Sneddon brought his father to the school, what happened after, I never knew. I couldn' wait to get out of the place and into the real world.

 
My first job out of school was with Consolidated Press. Starting as a copy boy at the Telegraph  when I passed the Leaving Certificate being promoted to a cadet journalist, assigned to sports department. As it was a morning paper I would not finish work till late evenings and getting home was ridiculous as the buses had stopped running and the trains were so few and far between, I used to walk up to the toll gates at the  start of the Harbour Bridge and hitch a ride, eventually I bought a car.



Gerry Pynt was the sports editor, Phil Tressider was the feature writer, John Pilger would have been just out of his cadetship and Norm Tasker was still a cadet journalist.I was at this time playing rugby with Lindfield Juniors and having a good time, trouble was I was hot to get into a good side, but I could not train - as I was working nights and training was early evenings.

Hitching home one night I was picked up and became involved in a conversation with a gentleman who was very enthusiastic about a new method of processing and keeping food fresh in supermarkets. His name was Jim Summerton and  was the MD for Edgell Birdseye Frozen Foods. As we spoke more,he asked me was I happy with newspaper life and I probably said it was early days, but I certainly found the late nights curtailing on social activities. He ended up driving me home to my parents house. In the car parked outside, he outlined to me a new position that he was to commence  at their office in Rozelle - an executive trainee.Then he  offered me the position.

 I handed my notice in as I had thought sufficiently about the position offered and decided to take it. I spent three years with Edgell Birdseye, being trained in all the facets of frozen food production, wharehousing and distribution. At the same time playing rugby with with Lindfield and then playing grade rugby with Norths and Eastwood.

These were some of the best times of my life till then. I had recently turned 21 and decide I wanted to take off overseas, as some other blokes had already gone and were writing back of the great time they were having in london. 

Two other friends, who I met through playing rugby, Bruce Currie and Ross Mc Pherson  decided it was time for us travel. So booked a passage on the Fairstar and in March 1964 we departed for London. 

I spent six months in London working for Unilever Birdseye as sales rep, got bored did a quick trip around Spain and France. Went back to England and joined up with another  couple of Australians and flew to Canada. We drove across Canada to the Rockies obtaining work in the Chateau Lake Louise and  then Vancouver where I obtained another position with Unilever taking over  the territory of Northern Alberta as a sales representative. 

Only an Australian would be silly, naive and desperate enough take on the job, especially in winter which was when I was there. As the territories go this was the pits.Canadians were to weather wise to take it on.After a three day training with their manager in Calgary.Unilever based me in Edmonton, the capital of Alberta which was out in the middle of nowhere, but smack bang in the middle of Canada's largest oil field. 

I found an apartment to share with another Canadian who was a rep with a dental supply group. I was given a Ford Fairlaine to cover a territory that included Lesser Slave Lake, Peace River, Grande Prairie and Fort Saint John, exotic sounding, in name only.A round trip with detours of 1500 k' that took a month to cover.The task itself  was easy selling soap,detergents and toiletries to the large chains like Safeways and to the lesser general stores dotted through the tundra. The hard part was doing it, the driving.

I had never driven  on ice before.As mentioned it was winter.The car had special snow treads and a heater. I started off along the main highway which further up the track linked with the Alaska Highway. I had only gone about 50 k out of town and I noticed on both sides of the road a big ice embankment, about eight foot high.Like a big ice wall on either side of the road.This was from huge snow ploughs, that spewed the snow to the side and kept the roads clear and then they sprayed  salt on the road to stop the ice!!!

I further noticed these holes like small cave every so often that were in the embankments, wondering what the were, I soon received the answer. as i was belting along i appled the brake on a section and the car hit some black ice and i was spun of the road into the ice wall, totally out of controll the car speared into the embankment and stopped within about ten feet. I was in my own little ice igloo. Quitely in shock, I backed out and there was my little cave I had been wondering, what the fuck are they!!

I did that job for six months, saved sufficient funds to get myself to Nassau and that where this story started and this one nearly ends.

Mum and Dad Pass On.

 In March Mum passed away followed by Dad in June. Mum died from another stroke having been paralyzed eighteen months before by the first one. Dad I think died from not wanting to be around after Mum passed on, as they had been married for 69 years.Pat and Ken would have celebrated their seventieth wedding anniversary on the 21 December 2009. 

Mum up till she had the first stroke was full of beans, having recently moved from the Gold Coast to Terrigal on the Central Coast.The move was  to much for  them both and was the reasons for Mum's first stroke.Plus the searching for a new house, to enable them to be closer to me and Jazz. 

The property they eventually decided on was a suitable choice. However there were some before they inspected and were to proceed with, which were not so good. They were both tired. I drove up to inspect one such choice, they were about to exchange contracts. Fortunately  they listened to my rationale regards it's unsuitability. Normally I was never consulted, mainly because I was rarely available. 

 Once they moved in Mum in her inimitable fashion, quickly shaped the place to her liking; buying new carpets throughout and installing a new kitchen .The next job on her agenda was to be the outdoor courtyard, which she would have had looking a treat, as Mum had a ‘green thumb’. 

But it was not to be. After only a couple of months of them moving in. My Father phoned me to say that Mum had, had a stroke and was in Gosford Hospital.She was there for two weeks. Then they moved her to a private hospital for a period of several weeks.She hated being in that place and could not wait to get out and be home.When we bought her home, the right side of her body  was paralysed,  she could only talk with supreme difficulty. Mum needed assistance with all activities, from her toiletries  to walking, in fact the only activity Mum was capable of was; lying down or sitting upright in a lounge chair.In time she learnt to use her left hand to eat and  change channels on the TV remote control.

 Dad became her carer for eighteen months. There was considerable support for them both.  Dad was a war veteran and received benefits from the Gold Card. Improvement was minimal.  Mum was not happy and why would she be? Mum was aware mentally of what was happening.Due to her incapacity in speech she was unable to communicate or participate in conversations

She would get so frustrated, sometimes in such pain from her back, that she would be curled over in her chair screaming. No one could ever fathom what caused the pain, obviously  something arthritic or osteo related. Poor Mum, our hearts used to go out to her. The only relief we could give her would be, to rub some heat balm or ointment, to provide a hot water bottle, which seemed to provide some relief. Physios and therapists used to visit on a weekly basis, giving her  exercise routines, non seemed to help. There was a nursing service that visited each morning, called Sue Mann’s. These nurses  helped Mum shower and attend to her toiletries,  relieving Dad, allowing him his own time.Other nurses visited her weekly,  to chat and give  Mum  time with another female, which she appreciated. Dad would use that opportunity to get out of the house and go somewhere for a coffee and do a shop.

I Would drive up from Sydney on weekends and do some shopping  at Erina Fair and then do the cooking for the week end. Dad was not much chop in the kitchen, he was not accustomed to that task.  Mum always did the cooking, in fact, would shoo us out of the kitchen, so as she could be left to do her thing. I am sure they both appreciated when I cooked. Having been involved in the running of restaurants for several years, being a single parent for the past fifteen years, rustling up some nourishing food was pretty simple. 

 So rewarding, it was some help, as I used to feel a bit helpless.I'd take Mum's dinner on a plate to her, setting it on her lap with a spode. Mum taught herself to use her left hand. She would look up and smile with her lovely face and say” thanks Tone, looks good.”That was bout the extent of  Mum's talking skills. I used to steam vegetables and often stir fry chicken with coriander and other herbs and sauces, or sometimes a Shepherds Pie, food that was healthy, easy for her to eat and digest.Mum was not a fish eater, at times I would impeach her to so.

Dad was so patient with Mum. I was so in love with Dad for the way he was so patient and caring for Mum. Sometimes because of the illness she could be like a naughty little girl and be quite rude. I used to say to her "why don’t you say thank you to him", if he did something for her, like - get some hot water for her water bottle. Mum would say “he knows” by this she was inferring, Dad knew what he was doing was appreciated. Which was not the case always, because he told me he found it up setting, but always made allowances. If she was angry at Dad she would point her finger at him and wag it. He would say “don’t you dare do that” and then she would get remorseful and apologize to him.

The frustration Mum went through was obvious. Wanting to join in the conversation. Start to say some thing, it always went no where, not because of us. We would encourage her to say more. She would not even be able to start .  Mum would say one word and then be unable to continue with what she was trying to say. She would then forget what she was trying to say. In frustration, move her head sideways - as if to say "forget it". Sometimes that would lead to her breaking down into big sobbings. I would just gather her up and hold her to me.You knew she wanted to be in the conversation,but unable to spit it out.

 Mum used to get a big kick when Jazz would visit. He would sit next to her on the couch watching television and hold her hand. Mum couldn’t  open her left hand. It was in a clawed state  because of the paralysis. You could tell how she enjoyed feeling his strength and the comfort of him sitting next to her.

Dad contacted me at home one morning and told me Mum had had another stroke and was In Gosford Hospital. I met Dad there shortly afterwards in the emergency ward. To be told by one of the nurses, Mum would not recover from this stroke and to prepare myself for the worst. This was new territory, not the hospital, but the emotional mental wrestle of coming to terms  with the thought -  Mum not being there, how would Dad cope.The thinking was difficult to adjust to. The coldness of being told within a short time of arrival, only seeing my Mother, she was about to die. I suppose that is what nursing does in emergency- makes you direct , to the point, no time for sympathy or consideration for feelings. 

Dad and I after spending time with Mum, adjourned to the coffee shop which was in the lobby of the hospital.We discussed Mums chances of coming out of this, if so, what condition would she be in. We  both knew  she would be worse, than when she went in. Already having been through the rehab of Mum’s first stroke and had seen no improvement in those eighteen months. We both seemed to know that Mum would not recover. We then went back to spend further time with Mum in the ward. 

The nurses then moved Mum from the public to a  private single room with all the life support equipment,  advising that they were making her as comfortable as possible. 

Here was the stark reality of them preparing Mum for the afterlife, which was so hard for both of us to contemplate.Dad broke down, I was crying. Looking at my beautiful Mother lying there so helpless with tubes supplying her life,  only just, as her breathing was so ragged. I said to the nurse "Mum doe'snt want to be like this" and she said  "I know".I am crying as I write this. It was so strange as we did not want to see Mum like she was, but once we left we knew that would be last time we would see her alive. To go or not to go - we went as it was to painful to stay.

Dad and I drove home to his house and we spoke about the inevitable.We knew it was only time before her passing. At 11.50pm on Tuesday March 10, 2009, Gosford Hospital contacted Dad to inform him of Mum's passing.In some small degree relieved that Mum would not have to suffer any more, we were so so sad. Mum would  no longer be with either of us. The house appeared empty, as were we.

 The funeral service was held at Palmdale on the 12 March I gave the eulogy.

Mum was a beautiful lady, extremely feminine.Mum always looked so attractive and well groomed, even when gardening, which she loved with a passion. Her big floppy hat she wore to protect her porcelain white skin from the sun.She would peer out from underneath the wide brim, her huge brown eyes smiling.That's one of my fondest memories of Mum, in the garden.That and when she would go and make some tea and sandwiches for lunch. To have in the garden where we would talk about the work achieved  and Mum would give Dad her plans for more to do !!

Over the years Mum and Dad bought and sold many properties and the main activity they enjoyed together, was getting stuck into the garden. They would buy a property, refurbish what was needed to be done in the inside; Kitchen, bathroom, paint, work, new carpets.Then start on the gardens. Sourcing nurseries in the area. Deciding what plants were suitable for the climate. Ripping up the lawns and re turfing, with turf that Dad had some prior experience and success with. Mum would be weeding. Mum had a fetish with weeding, she would get her little spade and a bag and sit in an area and weed and weed till not a weed was there.

Mum loved her antiques and the house was always immaculate, to immaculate for me. She had it looking like a showroom. Hated us lounging around,  lying spread out on the sofas, as it made it look untidy. House proud and stubborn. It was Mum who insisted I go to a private school.Dad was indifferent, coming from a well heeled  and privileged back ground. He was more circumspect - what ever you can afford, is what he would have thought . If you can't afford, go without. Not Mum, if she wanted something she would go and save, till she got it, as with my schooling.

Mum worked most of the years when I was at Newington, just so they could afford to send me there. It was not that I was in love with the school,  I hated it sometimes, mind you,I was there for ten years.Because Dad went to Palmers School in England,Mum wanted a similar education for me - bless her!!  There was no argument, but I know there were.I loved Mum for her stubbornness  she would dig her heels in, and would not give in or listen to reason. She thought it through, that was what she wanted, or the way it was to be, we went along with it.

My Mother when young, was a striking looking lady, tall 5'8' with long black hair and very statuesque, lovely legs, beautiful white skin,a Leo.I could see why Dad was so in love with  her.In certain company she was shy. Mum was conscious of her upbringing, which she rarely spoke of. She never spoke about what school she went to or her early years. I think her early years  were pretty tough, so she put them out of her mind.Which would have been another reason why she wanted me to have a good, continuous education.

 Mum came from a medium/ large sized family, of three brothers and two sisters, all  brought up single handedly by her mother. My  grandmother,Pearl, came from Bega on the south coast of NSW, her maiden name was Newlands, I know nothing about her background. Her husband and Mum's father was like a shadow, not around,not discussed and not much known.

Over the years we stayed in contact with Mum's two sisters, Aunty Laureen and Aunty Beryl.Aunty Laureen we lived with,  in their house at North Sydney. Whilst Dad was away fighting in WW2 for several years. I didn't see him till I was about four. Aunty Laur and Uncle Rowley were like surrogate parents to me, while Dad was away. There two sons, Barry and Rowley, who were four and six years older than me, were like brothers to me when I was a toddler. We all lived together in the one house, till I was six.Mum's brothers - Laurie, Bruce and Walter we saw occasionally over the years. 

Uncle Laurie who was an ex POW in Changi was Mum's favourite.  I know she helped him a lot, financially helping him to buy a house. When he was repatriated from Changi and returned to Australia from the "Hell Hole" that killed so many young Australians,he was never the same.Apparently he looked like a skeleton and spent nine months in Concord Hospital with many others as they tried to build up there health.He never held down a job. I remember going to my grandmothers house in Five Dock where Uncle Laurie  also lived, he was always studying the "form", as he called it. With the punt and his pension he managed to get by. I know he helped Mum and Dad when they built there house at Lane Cove.

 Mum's funeral was small. Mum's youngest brother, Walter who was still alive, came and his three children, most of their friends had already passed on.Kevin Mudie and Joe Foster from Access Industries where Dad was a director were present, Renato Ius a fiend of mine and Jazz plus a married couple who were neighbors.

 After the service which Dad organized, we  retired for drinks at the local RSL. Jazz went back to Sydney with Renato. Kevin, Dad and I went back to Dad's house in Terrigal for a few more and Kevin left.

Dad went so quickly after Mum, twelve weeks later on the 1 June. I think he decided that that was what he wanted, he spent a lot of his time listening to their music which was modern classical.They both loved; the tree tenors, Andrew Lloyd Webbers Phantom of the Opera and had a great collection of cd's. I spent as much time with him as possible, driving up most week ends.

 Many a time when I was there he would say " Tone you got work and stuff to do, I don’t mind being on my own, you shoot off ". I knew that he was ok. it provided him time to decide and think through what he wanted to do. At one stage we talked about moving in together which he would of thought about. This meant moving to Sydney.Knowing Dad another move was not what he would have wanted. The amount of moves they have had since he retired would have been about ten to twelve. Retirement homes would not have agreed with Dad and his health was deteriorating.  He was complaining of loss of energy and not having the inclination to get out of his pyjamas most days. Mum would have stimulated and energised Dad. Now he had nothing to get out of bed for, he said to me once "I think there is something else out there".

Dad in these weeks after Mums death had come to accept his own mortality and maybe embrace it, and to accelerate it. Dad was a very positive minded person who always was chirpy and it was only at the very end that I saw him become vulnerable. My Mother's passing knocked the daylight's out of Dad, more than he and I realised.

Up till Mum's death, Dad would not have thought much about death, as he was to busy looking after her first, himself second.Keeping her alive and active, building her spirits up and his own.  He did so marvelously.As I have said,I fell in love with my father for the way he looked after my mother over those final years. He was glorious, always keeping his sense of humour, rallying her constantly, because she was never happy.I was in awe of Dad how he kept the flag flying and it was not till after my Mothers death, that the toll on his own health became evident.

 Dad In his solitude, was able to think through his options and decided that he wanted to join Mum.   I was with him when he said "Tone would you call  the ambulance". He was having trouble breathing. They came in quick time to take him to Gosford Hospital.  He was admitted to emergency and stayed overnight.  They rang the following day and told me to come and pick him up as they could  not detect any thing wrong, and let him leave. I picked him up and took him home. 

That day I had to go back to Sydney and was to return the following day, as I was leaving he said “ I think your ready Tone” to which I replied "you’ll be here tomorrow won’t you" and he said “ I’ll be ok". I went and saw their neighbours and asked Len to keep his eye on Dad, explaining,I would return the next day. 

That evening Len phoned and told me Dad had been taken again by ambulance to hospital and was in emergency. The following morning Jazz and I drove up to Gosford Hospital and visited Dad who was in a ward with some others. When we walked into the ward,he was being asked by a young intern what medication he had be taking, to which Dad did not seem to comprehend or able to answer.He seemed a bit muddled, which was strange for Dad,as he was very articulate. I have a feeling he was taking some of Mum's medication.Kevin Mudie, one of his associates from Access Industries , happened to be coming back from their workshop in Newcastle, also was at his bedside. 

Dad mentioned about me taking over his car, as the constant trips to Gosford would be a bit wearing on the Bluebird.Which was a strange request. We were not there for long before Dad asked us, in a jocular way, to leave as he felt tired. On the way to the car Jazz broke down, as he was shocked to see Pop’s condition. We drove back to their house  in Terrigal and had dinner at the Terrigal Hotel that evening. We spoke about being here the last time with Dad. He always liked their food, often having "the Barramundi" which was one of his favourite dishes. 

That evening at 1am on 1^st June the hospital phoned to tell us that Dad had passed away.
Jazz and I went in to Gosford Hospital. Dad was in the Morgue lying on a bed it was cold and sad,but I know Dad was happy to be gone, to be with Pat.

I arranged the funeral at Northern Suburbs Crematorium, as that was where Dad wanted to be laid next to Mum. As I had her ashes and they are now both together.

The service was small, attended by; Renato, Bob Raymond and Kim who flew down from the Gold Coast, Leigh Moore who flew up from Melbourne, Penny Perkins, Paul Quiney , Belinda and Tom Mainprize and Kevin Williams. From Access where Dad had been a Director for 27years there was Kevin Mudie, Ron Francis and another lady in a wheel chair who I had not met and do not know her name. 

The service was attended by a representative of the RSL who spoke on behalf of  the veterans and their contribution to Australia. They provided the Australian  flag which was draped over the coffin which Jazz and I helped carry in. 

I gave the eulogy. I spoke about Dad been born in Buenos Aires, Argentina.  Where his parents, who were British, went to liveafter the First World War.Dad's father was in the cattle and sheep industry  in Tierra del Fuego. His father died from trench wounds suffered from that war,at an early age. His mother and the two boys, aged three and eighteen months, with out her husband, no income,was unable to continue living in such a remote and isolated region of Argentina, returned to England. 

On her return she  remarried a past suitor. A  wealthy businessman called Andrew Gibbons who owned flour mills. Dad's stepfather was of fortunate circumstances and was able to provide well for Dad and his brother and later his step brother Brian.  Educating Dad and his brother in one of  England's oldest schools - Palmers School founded in 1706. 

After  leaving school Dad worked for his stepfather for awhile and then he got the wanderlust and emigrated to Australia with the Dreadnought Association. Where he was posted to a dairy farm in Macksville in Northern NSW, to learn about farming.His ambition was to be a cattle rancher, to follow in his fathers footsteps.Working on a Dairy farm was not his choice, but a step in the right direction. He spoke highly of the couple he worked with on their farm and enjoyed the Australian out door life, being on horseback and working from dawn to dusk which is the life of the dairy farmer.

On the outbreak of WW2 he joined up, being inspired by Churchill's oratory. He joined the 2/5th Field Regiment as a gunner. He said "I went in as a gunner and came out six years later as gunner" I was asked to do officers training and on advice of some wiser heads in the unit, I passed as "I wanted to come out alive, young officers had short lives in wartimes and i had a wife and family to think about". 

 He met  Mum whilst on leave, outside the State Theatre. Mum was working there as an usherette. Apparently he was walking past and they spotted each other, he walked past  her a couple more times, before he mustered the courage, to ask her out. They married in quick time as he was about to be posted to the Middle East. 

He had arranged to meet with his brother Den in Cairo. Den was an officer with Montgomery's Tank Corp and was killed fighting Rommels Afrika Korps, before they could meet up.The anguish he must have endured after hearing of that. It was something I never spoke to him about and he never brought it up, as was the case with most of the war.

After the Middle East and fighting the Germans his regiment was shipped back to Australia to Far North Queensland. Here they were trained in jungle war fare in the rainforests of the slopes of the Atherton Tablelands.  Mum became a camp follower, she and some of the other wives and babies travelled up to Ingham and Tully where they lived for a few months enabling them to see their husbands when  they on weekend leave. 

They were  shipped  to the jungles of Borneo and New Guinea to  fight the Japanese. Dad said nothing could have prepared them for what they had to endure there : the swamps, mangroves, heat, humidity, mosquitoes, flies and diseases from the conditions they were exposed to were horrific. Then the Japs for  three years.He said they were so sick, sometimes fighting the Japs was secondary.The medical supplies the Australians had were so inadequate, that if it was not for the Americans flying him and others to the highlands for respite and treatment in their hospitals half the regiment would have perished.They all came back suffering from every tropical disease known to man; berri berri, malaria, dysentry, Dengue fever, name they had it.

On his return, he applied for a Soldier Settlement Scheme,whereby the Australian Government granted land allotments to returning discharged soldiers.To no avail. Trying to do an Economics Degree in the evenings at Sydney University. At the time living with his wife and son in one room at his brother in laws house; to hard!! He then commenced work for the Government and rose to be a senior director in the Department of Social Services. 

Dad retired early when he was sixty and joined Access Industries.Here his work was honorary and voluntary, where he was chairman or a  director for 27 years right up till his death. 

I can not imagine how difficult it must have been for Dad after six years of active service returning to family life. Having a wife and four year old son who didn't know him from Adam.I would presume their was a certain amount of competition from both of us for my mother's affection.The three of us were living in a cramped conditions in Mum's sisters house which would have stretched their patience with each other.

But they stuck together, buying a block of land in 41 Richardson Street, Lane Cove.  It was a steep, rocky piece of land, with a creek that was the boundary at the bottom of the block.Dad on weekends would be there digging the trenches for the foundations with a pick and shovel, rock hammer and stone wedge - back breaking work as their was rock everywhere.Mum working as his labourer.

Dad was a good looking man, about 5'11, fair in complexion, he was of medium build, always pretty fit. He had a moustache and wavy light brown hair. Mum said she was taken with his voice and how he spoke, she liked his British accent.I remember him working on the block of land, stripped down to just a pair of army shorts and boots, bare up top, he like getting a tan, working with a pick and shovel.He was very strict if I ever got out of line he would belt me, with a switch and that happened more than a few times.

They had a builder who must have sympathised with their plight over the two years it took to build the house. I say sympathised, as their was rationing in those days on all building supplies such as, cement and bricks.Their was an allocation of how much could be purchased. Dad used to go to a hardware store in Chatswood called Benjamins where he had an account and bought  the building materials for the house.When he had bult up sufficient reserves, he would contact the builder. Who would bring his team of "brickies', they would mix the cement and sand lay the bricks and when the supplies were exhausted go somewhere else till Dad had enough for them to come back. . 

The bricks were called "commons" apparently the only ones available for residential work, or may be the only one's Dad could afford.Dad was always complaining about their poor quality and how they did not match and were different colour shades

They were so bad that the whole exterior had to be painted.Which was a bitch of a job,as two coats was required, the paint used was called "Boncote" a thick substance to apply over a very rough surface.Another of the many jobs Dad took on. It was hairy work, as he only had an extension ladder and the back of the house was two stories. There he was,' up about 20', no scaffolding, with a 20L paint tin attached to one  of the top rungs of the ladder, a big paint brush in one hand painting under the eaves, holding on for grim life with the other'.He would do a section, then have to climb down, move the ladder to another unpainted section, fill up with paint climb up and start again.

Eventually it was built, brick by brick , tile by tile. Every step of the way, they kept at it, working during the week, weekends at Lane Cove grinding away. Working on their house till they at last could move in..

The house built by Pat and Ken was a white painted L shaped house of one and half levels, upstairs : two bedrooms, bathroom, kitchen, lounge and a sun room that faced north.Downstairs was a laundry, spare room and garage.Their was a white picket fence across the front garden, Mum insisted on this.There was a steep driveway to the garage which housed their first car - a Ford Prefect.

They would come to Newington to watch me play rugby or cricket. I would ask them to park the car out on Stanmore Road. I was embarrassed, as the parents who parked their cars in the school grounds all seemed to have limousines.That was one of the disparities of going to schools such as Newington. Mum used to say" "darling you have to remember you have very young parents". Which they were - Pat and Ken were 20 and 21 when they married.

I sold the house in Terrigal In October  I did not wish to rent as Mum and Dad would not have wanted me to do that.The hard part of all this was packing up all the personal items they had collected over there 69 years of marriage, in all 35 large boxes were packed with crystal, art works , crockery cutlery silver, linen, clothes and private papers. I did this solely

We are over Christmas  '09 which  has been the first time I  have spent it without Mum and Dad either in their presence or at the end of a telephone.On the 21^st December  they would have celebrated their 70th Wedding Anniversary which would have been quite astonishing. There are not many married couples that achieve that longevity in their relationships, especially these days. They were happy together I know there was a period when Dad may have strayed in the late fifties, I think he had a fling with one of his female work associates, her name was Phil Gough – From other stories Mum may have done the same with an American during the war. Otherwise Pat and Ken enjoyed their lives together especially so in retirement. 

I miss them more than words can convey, I wonder,if, as Dad said "I think there is something else out there".

New Horizons

New Horizons

 Jazz was settled into his  final years at St Josephs College. Over the next three years I was retained for several short term consulting jobs by different groups in Sydney and a concept for the Sheraton Hotel in Beijing of a brewery pub.

Bob Lapointe retained me  to help co ordinate an 'Enterpise Barganing Agreement' for the Lone Star Steakhouse Saloons, one of the many franchises he had brought to Australia. The agreement was about negotiating effective determination of principles, reasons and bargaining between staff and management.

Following on from that I project managed the fit out of Sydney's oldest 'gay' cafe. "The Californian" in Oxford Street,  a long narrow property,which was about four shops towards the city, from Taylor Square. This place was a squalid hole before the make over. It was dark, dingy, dismal, filthy and full of junkies. A psychiatrist from Canberra had taken over the lease and Susie Green came up with the design input and recommended that I carry out the brief. After council approvals and loads of rubbish, dirty syringes and a cesspool of junk was removed from the site.We then  re imaged and relaunched a sparkling new "Californian" to  Sydney's gay market.

Consulting work pays well when your working, but there are long periods sometimes when there's no work and your living off your capital, which is what used to piss me off with working for yourself. Then I'm not good at working for a boss.

My last project in the hospitality arena was for David Burger of City Freeholds P/L who owned Mid City Center in George Street, Sydney and the next door property, 416 George Street.I was retained to prepare a feasibility report on licensing the, basement and lower ground floor of the property.  A space of 1000 square meters into a middle market multi functionary licensed premises for food,beverages and gaming.

This was a two staged project. If David Burger liked what i proposed for stage1 then we would proceed to stage 2. Stage 2  was to include the ground floor level and first floor level conversion of the property into an integrated form of licensed bars and restaurants with access into Mid City Center.

I assembled a group of consultants including a licensing lawyer Kim Stapleton who summarised the application process to obtain a Hoteliers License.

In October 1998 the considered price for a liquor license from one source was; be it granted by the court or puchased was between $400 - $450,000 for the CBD area of Sydney.According to Hotel Brokers $700,000 was nearer to the price.

A Town Planner was retained  and a critical path, for development consent, building approval, certification as a place of public entertainment from Sydney City Council, was developed.

Researching and documentation of the marketplace :  Down Market Hotels,Mid Market and Up Market Pubs in a five block radius, in all eighteen hotels/pubs.The findings covered price  points, trading hours weather they had entertainment,  type of food, service, estimation of gaming revenue from poker machines.This was all laid in out in spreadsheets.

 I provided the concept and drawings on how the lower ground floor space would be converted into three distinct areas for trading :

1. The Main Bar and Lounge.
2. Dining Room, Oyster Bar and Grill.
3. Gaming room with Poker and card machines.

This was accompanied with a brief on interior planning, mood and ambience and preliminary construction estimate which came out at $4million.

Followed by an operational overview and entertainment concept for a cabaret lounge for , lunch and evening operations.

An income overview was estimated for a 95 hour trading week, broken down into food and liquor, lunch and dinner, bar evening trade and gaming totaling $90,000 per week with annual turn- over of  $5 million with a net profit of $1million.

These findings were presented to the directors who then asked me to continue with the second stage. 

As mentioned the second stage was to be over the four levels ; basement,lower ground floor,ground level and level one.

My conception was, as a  multi level complex with architectural drawings by architect Renato Ius, that define the integration of four levels, into a functional complex designed as a stylish day/night club in the center of the CBD similar to what is available in New York, London, Berlin or Rio de Janeiro.With a large balcony veranda with with weather canopy that would be punched out over George Street catering to outdoor dinning in the middle of the CBD.

The Complex:

• Basement : storage, staff quarters, coolroom and laundry
• Lower ground: Cabaret Lounge Bar & Games Room
• Ground Level: Martini Bar Cafe
• Mezzanine : Coffee Lounge
• First Floor : Restaurant 'Noodles & Pasta'

In total the area for make over was 2500 square meters.

A review of these facilities was prepared into a fifty page report with drawings and images outlining their operations, description of services with projected: weekly income, profit and loss for each facility and a combined total income for for the complex being $10 million per annum, with a net profit of $2 million.

Entertainment was a large component of the cabaret lounge, with the philosophy behind the entertainment concept to be 'Discovery'. The venue to be marketed as a Talent House.

Construction and fit out costs were estimated by the quantity surveyors at $6 million with pre opening cost another $1million.

The final submission of stage two was not proceeded with, I never knew if they considered the concept to lavish or to ahead of it's time. Maybe their management was not up to the task.It was always a stop gap measure. They always intended to develop the site, when the economic climate was more welcoming, increase the floor levels which has subsequently happened. A pity they did not proceed as the "Establishment" and the "Ivy " also multi functional complexes which opened years later,have been very succesful and they cost a lot more than this concept.

I thought that re inventing myself  was in order I had been in the hospitality arena for thirty years.  I saw and advertisement in the Australian Newspaper, for a National Marketing Manager for an Art Company called Di Emme Creative Solutions. After a few interviews I was successful and commenced work as a full time paid employed person with a nine to five job. I had 'nt had one of these since working for the Australian Consulate in San Francisco back in the sixties.

Di Emme had a full time staff of ten, most with artistic or industrial design backgrounds and access to further  art based sub contractors. They worked in conjunction with  the design and construction industry  in creating architectural features, special finishes,wall and ceiling treatments,three dimensional urban art, custom made lights and other services for  shopping centres, clubs, hotels nationally and internationally.

I was with this group for six years promoting their services to commercial architects nationally. Large developers such as Westfield, Lend Lease, Mirvac, Multiplex  used the expertise of this group to create features within their developments that gave them a point of difference. They may be water features, special finishes on walls or ceiling that created the wow factor.Their industrial designers have designed some sensational lighting installations. 

For a small group they had accumulated a large folio of works and are well respected in the design construction industry.They are continuously developing new finishes and services to supply to architects and interior designers. Their library of several thousand finishes in gold and silver leaf, plaster, stucco, metallics has been developed over many years and is a wonderful accomplishment.

My weeks, months, years were spent organizing appointments and presenting to architects and interior designers, who used these services for their clients projects. It was a matter of showing images of recent projects completed, finding out what projects they were working on or had in the pipeline and to see if there was any scope for what Di Emme offered. Often supplying samples or fabricating a prototype for which they would be charged. I would average 15 presentations a week, over 700 a year. I travelled interstate often to Melbourne and Brisbane and was successful in obtaining  work with most of the commercial design groups on the eastern seaboard.

One of the larger contract i was responsible for gaining for them was a large scope of interior works, in the rebuild of the Canterbury Bankstown Legues Club (Bulldogs).Working with the architects,Altis Architects. We were responsible for the design and fabrication of  the many different custom lights, special plaster wall finishes, faux stone and signage and 3d artworks.This project became one of their signature projects, leading to several more hospitality projects.

As with most small family owned companies opportunity for advancement and salary increase was limited. After the six year period that  I was there, my enthusiasm for working for them was declining, so was theirs for me, so we parted company.

Whilst there I became acquainted with a similar group from Melbourne who I had some contact with, called  Mothers Art (MA). They were an art cooperative that specialised in interpretive design for national parks and creating and  building temporary and permanent exhibitions for  museums and zoos in Australia.

I approached them with a proposal to work for them as their Sydney marketing consultant.They  did not have a Sydney representative and were constantly flying up  from Melbourne I proposed an hourly rate,  capped weekly , plus a 2.5% commmission on all work I brought in,They were aware of  my track record as I had been successful in the past,  winning tenders against them.

At the time I approached them, they were tendering against Di Emme, for  a $1.5 million contract to design and fabricate the 3D section of 'the Great Southern Ocean Precinct' at Taronga Zoo.I had a stong argument for us to join forces. Due to my relationship with Reed Constructions, who had recently been awarded the zoo project to project manager and construct and were now on the site, as the project managers. 

Once we settled on a deal, I lobbied Reed on MA submission. They were inclined towards Di Emme, as they were Sydney based and I had done a good job on promoting them to Reed Constructions. Now I had to change tack and allegenges to convince Reed that Mothers Art even though in Melbourne, would be more efficient and capable of performing.

We flew their manager to Melbourne to inspect the premises and capabilities of MA, which were superior to Di Emmes.They had a larger 'art force' and industrial design department were  technically  more advanced. After the inspection and   Mothers Art  retaining me as their Sydney representative, some pencil sharpening.Added to this,Ian Bracegirdle  one of the directors of MA, who was also a teacher in sculpturing and design  at RMITwas going to project manage the works.


All these factors were  influences that persuaded Reed Constructions  to grant the contract  to Mothers Art.

This was a much more suitable arrangement for me as a single parent.As my time was my own, again. Financially I was working a third of the hours and earning nearly two half times as much and being my own boss.How I stuck at the other place for so long still bewilders me, having a son at a high profile boarding school I suppose makes you suck eggs.

I was effective in winning considerable business for Mothers Art over the four year period I was with them. 

We worked with Lend Lease on their Rouse Hill development,Constructed in Sydney's  ever increasing populated north west corridoor. This was the largest urban planned town square developed for a considerable time.Including; transport terminials, shopping centres, underground parking and medium density housing and apartment living, municipal offices, libraries and  office buildings. Over a six month period we  designed, researched and developed a striking graphics package that  interpreted the sites history from the days of indigenous habitation and early settlers to modern times.These graphics, illustrated in a contemporary form were laser printed in colour on light steel  panels.These panels which were  2m high in full colour, were installed and stretched along  the walls  either side of the four travelators, (people movers) that carried people from the four car parks underneath the development.

Then there were contracts and success with works for Sydney Wildlife World. A new adventure walk through zoo and animal habitat, constructed in a purpose built complex next to Sydney Aquarium at Darling Harbour. Here we built interactive displays with educational illustrated storyboards.Themed their entrance and walkways through the animal habitats   with a cohesive indigenous artwork which was sub contracted to a local mob which we project managed and had executed.

Other successes and exhibitions were completed for the South Australian Museum where we designed, fabricated and installed the 'Biodiversity Exhibition and Gallery'.This was an insight into the biological process and investigating ecosystems.

Another was the 'Enchanted Rainforest Exhibition' for the  Museum of Tropical Queensland.An interactive understorey that highlights smaller rainforest inhabitants to a rainforest makeup and rainforest dream time storeys.

Fatherhood

Fatherhood

I finished my duties with the Hotel at the end of '92 prior to them closing down for the six week makeover in January '93.

My son Jazz was now six years of age and in his first year of primary school at Redlands Junior School, a co-. educational school in the lower north shore handy to where we were living at Neutral Bay.We had been living apart for fifteen months and in that time I would pick him up from Balmoral where he was living with his mother and take him to school and sometimes after school and always see him on the weekends.

 Lynne, his mother had moved a lover in where they were staying at Balmoral. I started to notice that Jazz was losing his sunny disposition.He was always happy, smiling and laughing, whenever I arrived to see him or to pick him up for school. He  always had a little mischievous smile on his face , and loved playing any game and still does. One morning he was waiting outside the small row of townhouses just back from the beach where he lived, for me to take him to school,with a glum look on his little face. When he got into the car,  I asked him what was wrong and he said "Mum and Scott were arguing." After I dropped him off at school,I took this up with Lynne, who said her relationship with Scott "was  over" and Scott would not move out. I then stepped in, as I was paying the rent  and their had been no assistance towards it from him. so I told him" to pack his gear and be gone as the lock would be changed that day".

Lynne and I discussed, living together as room mates, to make life more stable for Jazz.Which is what we did and  moved into a  large three bedroom apartment in Neutral Bay overlooking Forsythe Park.That arrangement lasted for about three years. Then it started to become intolerable with arguments and Lynne then moved out with a girlfriend and Jazz stayed with me.

During this time having a park on the doorstep of the apartment made activities like cricket, kicking a football, easily accessible. I bonded back with Jazz who fortunately became a lover of all sports.We loved fooling around around on the sports oval. Now he was of the age that he could take instruction of how to bowl a cricket ball and keep a straight bat, keep his  eye on the ball and hit the ball in the middle of the bat. Making him more confident to increase his skills.

Mum and Dad had moved from Coffs Harbour to Terigal on the Central Coast and every second weekend we would drive up to spend the weekend with them. Close by there were some sporting fields with cricket nets to which Dad, Jazz and I would go with bat, pads and ball.  Spending time with Dad and Jazz at the nets, bowling and batting, instructing him on his techniques  were golden moments especially for "Pop" as Jazz called my father.When it was time to go, there was always from Jazz " one more ball Dad"- this normally went on for another half dozen or "until you get me out" or "till I get the next wicket".He would always ask for confirmation on his performance and I would always be honest - " you batted well, sometimes you would lose concentration and your head would start to move" I gave him a mantra when he batted to repeat in his head, when he faced the ball -  'head down and keep you eye on the ball and move your feet'.

We both had our own bedrooms at my parents place, they had bought a villa in a small cluster development, about half a mile inland from the beach at Terigal. It was a good break for me when we went up to stay with Mum and Dad, as  they both loved having us there for a couple of days. Mum loved cooking for us, you were never allowed into the kitchen when Mum was cooking - that was her rule. My father adored his grandson seeing him grow from a toddler to a budding sportsmen and as he got older someone he could impart some of his considerable wisdom  to. Further into his teens, when we arrived at their home and after the hellos and hugs and kisses Dad would steer Jazz into his study and they would have a chat one on one for a while before they would come out and join Mum and i who would be sitting in the lounge room.

Redlands had an active academic and sporting curriculum and Jazz thrived in the schools co educational atmosphere.The school was  close to where he lived, making  many friends as he did, with a teaching staff that was  nurturing, reignited his open, sunny, effervescent personality.He loved his school,his teachers, his friends and the sports.Not being  academic myself, I Ieft the teaching to the teachers.

Athletics,cricket, rugby, skate boarding ,skiing, surfing, Jazz took to them like a 'duck to water' . He had plenty of help from others in mentoring and coaching.

We went skiing when he was five to to Perisher with Susie Graham and her son Oddie, who was with the Australian Institute of Sports Ski team. The first day Susie organised  Jazz into the 'beginners learn to ski' and he won his first race. Robert, Susie's husband, advised - "Tone don't get him involved in skiing because it costs 'an arm and leg' and if he's good, which he probably will be, the next thing its off to Switzerland and Austria for the downhills".As it turned out that is exactly what happened with their son Oddie. He became one of Australia's best downhill skiers and daredevil extreme skiers.

Even though Redlands had an active ski school,I did not have to worry as when winter sports came around the sport Jazz excelled at, was Rugby. As Redlands did not start till their Rugby competition till year 3, Jazz commenced playing with the Mosman Junior Rugby Club who started teams from age of six. As they were short of coaches I was asked to help and ended up coaching his side for four years.

These were some of the most enjoyable times, coaching these little guys in the intricacies of a game that had been so good to me.Teaching them from an early age and watching them develop and progress through not only in Rugby, but  in their lives.He has kept these friendships  and at his age, now 25, several of them are still close, though non of them play rugby anymore.

Little boys around five and six remind me of lion cubs, they love wrestling and tussling with each other, their energy and exuberance is inexhaustible,  rugby is so good for channelling it all.It made me realise how much I liked children and I could see the enjoyment teachers must get from teaching and seeing  the results of their efforts.

We trained on Thursdays early evening down at Balmoral Oval. To commence I would have them do a run around the oval, then an easy exercise routine and then a game of 'Cocky Laura' which would then quieten them down.Then we would have a 'huddle meeting'.They would love this, you get them in a close circle and then explain the program for the next hour.I can still see their little faces intently listening and absorbing what you were saying and their responses when you asked questions.  You give them the base idea of the game and a few rules, then the ball, split them into two equal sides, explain about running the ball when they have possession and touching the runner who has the ball,  they don't tackle till their second year and then let them go. Which is total bedlam and anarchy and on the first few evenings of training it is hilarious and out of control,  you wonder will they ever get it. Off course they do.That's the fun part, as you start to see each little individual start to grasp the fundamentals and help their mates who may not be so quick on the uptake.

Our team was the Wales, there were normally two to three sides per age group and the coaches would organise games amongst each other as part of the training and in preparation for the competition game on Saturday mornings against other clubs. These were great fun as the parents would all come along and be sideline coaches. In the first two years the coach would be on the field with his team coaching from behind, cajoling, yelling,encouraging,congratulating and tearing his hair out.At half time the boys would all sit around the coach in a circle and listen to the coach's message and what was done right and where they 'blown it'.The parents standing behind their children, and the team manger handing them all an orange to suck on to replenish the energy the first half had sucked out of them.Then you would give them the strategy for the next half of the game and run behind and try to help them carry it through which sometimes they did sometimes they did not.

Sport helped Jazz blossom into a very confident, well adjusted young boy who became captain of cricket, rugby and athletics and  the junior schools sports captain at Redlands in his final year. He was selected to play for the Combined Independent Schools Rugby fifteen and then represented the NSW Schoolboys, the first ever for Redlands Junior School.

I was asked to a meeting  with Brother Ernest Headmaster at St Josephs College, Hunters Hill. This was initiated by Bob Baraket, a mate who thought Jazz had potential. Bob had friends in the Joey's old boys network and at his commendation they organised the meeting.Thanks Bob for that.

At the meeting in the headmaster office, we both met Brother Ernest.Jazz after some informal chat, was taken for a tour of the school by one of the students. Then Brother  Ernest informed me of how the college operated, the day boys and boarder situation, with boarding becoming compulsory in year eight.I explained how this program appealed , as I could see the added responsibilities and obligations of single parenting would become onerous as Jazz became older combined with the burden me having to work and keep him on track with his studies, sport and social life. Brother Ernest asked how I was faring financially, I told him that I was doing it tough  at present. At the time I was getting spasmodic consulting work and was in throws of re inventing myself and moving from the hospitality industry and looking for a full time job. He asked if a relief of school fees would assist for the two years whilst Jazz was a day boy and then full fees would apply when he became a boarder. "Oh yeah " I happily replied. Jazz returned from his tour of the school and Brother Ernest asked if he had any questions, he had one. "Sir how often do they have religious studies"? Brother Ernest replied "two periods per week Jazz do you think you can handle that" Jazz replied " yes sir ".

Leaving Redlands was not the wrench I expected,because several of the blokes he started with, like him, went from the junior school to other senior GPS schools. Yes, there were definitely aspects of Redlands missed - there were some teachers that we had a fondness for, it was a school where he shone and flourished. 

For the next six years Jazz attended Joey's. Commencing as a day boy for the first two years, I would drive him to Greenwich Wharf where he would hop a ferry, which would take him across the Lane Cove River to Woolwich, there the bus would take him to school.In the afternoons i would pick him up after sport and home we would go.

On Saturdays it was sport, sport as he got older was our bonding. in some ways our communication tool. it enabled discussion points, that then led elsewhere in broaching other topics.Such as courtesy, manners, team ship and working within the team, being a leader and being selfless, other peoples strengths, failings and foibles. The opportunity of driving him to school in hid first two years at Joeys' was a godsend for the reason that he was "captured." As they get older it is harder to gain their full attention, the driving to and from school allowed for discussion about studies which was never his pet subject. Although Jazz always seem to fare well enough in his tests and exams. Like myself he leant more to the Humanities than Maths or Sciences. Drama was becoming a subject he was starting to connect with and through out his years at Joey's it became his favourite subject.

I have never read a book on parenting, it has always been by seat of the pants, intuition, speaking with other parents, confiding with Mum and Dad.  Also Lynne who was always only a phone call away, we got on better by not living together and Jazz saw her often.The combination of these were all important in helping me guide, direct and lead Jazz.Plenty of times I blew it, I am not one to keep my feelings intact when I deal with and issue concerning Jazz, I let off steam quickly and he knows where he stands,it blows away as quickly as it fires up.Some of my personal indulgences would not stand up to scrutiny either, as i have explained none of us are perfect but we try and strive.

Even the North Sydney Police were involved. When he was eight, on a Saturday afternoon, after he had been playing cricket at Forsythe Park, next to where we lived. He was off playing with some of his mates or so I thought.  When he has burst into our apartment breathless, to tell me the police were after him. I asked him why, and he replied "they caught me and Jimo grafittying the bus shelter, but I ran away" I replied "that;s a dumb thing to do,how do you know there coming here" he replied that "Jimo will tell them where I live".True to his word, within about five minutes the police were knocking on the front door. He scooted into his bedroom, hiding under the bed, I went and opened the door. There, crowding the front door were three large male cops and one female in blue uniform.I showed them where he was hiding and out he came, his blond face red as a beetroot. After being interrogated and admitting he was the other culprit, they said he was to be taken to North Sydney Police Station. The female cop took him out to the car,I then spoke to the other three and I asked them -" on the trip to the station, would you put him between two of you in the back seat and scare the shit of him, about what he has done" You have my permission to intimidate him and  and squeeze him a bit between the both of you in the back seat". They understood where I was coming from and I also asked them to throw him in a cell. They were good, they scared him enough, they thought throwing him in a cell was not necessary - we never had problems like that again.

 We were fortunate that we had some exceptional early times with Jazz. Where he was smothered in so much love and affection in his toddler years which has given him a foundation to know what great cuddles and kisses are like from both of us.The times when we managed the Country Comfort Property at Coffs Harbour, where he was adored by all the staff, where his his little blond head on top of his brown body would pop up around the resort in playing hide'nseek with his Mum and Dad,members of the staff or guests children.There was a serendipity in obtaining that job when Jazz was only a year old that gave great pleasure, bonding and nourishment to our relationship with our son.Still,single parenting is sure better than, no parenting.

Jazz adjusted quickly to Joey's, as going from Redlands where he had made so many friends of both sexes and where he was a star.Then to Joeys with a thousand boys and it's    great reputation of being the 'Rugby Nursery', was a big transition to make and to his credit he handled it smoothly and with out any complications.Made easier because one of his best mates from the Mosman Juniors, Richie Lamberton, also an only child, who was also a gun sportsman, started at Joey's at the same time. Often Catherine, Richies mother and I would share the car ferrying roles of taking to and picking up from the school.

I related to Joey's easily as having gone to Newington College, through from prep school to senior school. I knew the culture that prevailed at Sydney's GPS schools. How the old boy networks influenced and permeated these schools and over time I explained to him how to handle the situations as they arose, and they did.The sucking up to the sport' coaching staff was prevalent and influenced selections and was no different to what I had experienced when I was a schoolboy at Newington.

Jazz fortunately is very competitive and this assisted him with his initial transition. As an only child he revelled in the competitive companionship and the nature of the  all male testosterone driven atmosphere  that is inculcated in this  GPS environment .This would not suit a lot of kids who went to Redlands or similar co educational schools.Being an only child you yearn for friendship, mates and companions.

Being a Dad has been the most enjoyable endeavour I have undertaken. Hindsight is a bitch, wisdom is a virtue I wish I had a lot more of it.One of my few regrets is not having more children, it was not till Jazz and the parenting that went with it that I realised how much you love your children and how it would be such a buzz to have more.

Having Jazz was a surprise and when  I knew Lynne was pregnant I embraced the news. At the age of 45 I knew there were not going to be  more opportunities around the corner for fatherhood.From the time my son was born I fell in love with him and that love has increased over the years. We have experienced the highs and lows that continue with adulthood, the beautiful aspect with love for your child is that it never dissipates,as in my case with my relationships with women.

Now he has completed his education at Joeys which was an excellent school for him. He became  independent, learnt to cope with the discipline and strictures in place to manage  a large boarding school. The school enabled him to mix with a diverse cross section of students from many backgrounds and cultures that  this school promulgates.

He learnt that his actions have ramifications, that  have effects that don't necessarily go the way of expectations. Jazz for the first four years, was the champion 800 meter athlete for his year and was always selected in the rugby  and basketball A teams.

In the under sixteens he decided he did not want to run the 800 meters, when the athletic season came around. As he found the training, consisting of long distance road running through the suburbs around Hunters Hill, was not what he wanted to do any more.He found it lonely and dispiriting and this he explained to the Athletics Coach. Jazz found that for the rest of his rugby day at Joeys he was relegated to lower rugby sides, much to his disappointment.  

To his credit and determination he made basket ball his focus sport and was selected and  played with their Firsts Basket Ball Team for the last three years at the college. For this he was awarded his colours and honours blazer, which is no mean feat at a school that prides itself as one of the elite sporting schools in Australia.