JohnFarls completely self indulgent, sometimes embellished story starts here; (may stick a page in 1 or 2 times a week).
To add a little bit of creditabilty my Email address is johnfarls@bigpond.com, I will respond to questions directed in the positive, but not inquisition in the negitive, remember this, I am infallible and believe my story to be as close to the truth as I will let you believe. The comments are mine and hopefully no inferance to plagerism will occur. Again, I hold no pretensions to be anybody of importence, it's a simple story from a simple bloke directed to ordinary people; you guys. Anybody out there?
FARLEY AND LOVEGROVE FAMILY HISTORY
PLEASE NOTE: While johnfarls.com is not directed to family research, Lovegrove, (mums surname, maiden name is so gossage, she was born on her parents property, "Rosedale" via Woolun in the New England NSW), more information can be found at (http://www.lovegrove.info), this is Graham Lovegroves' site, the greatest Aussie Nut grower, well that is in Valla. Graham loves his; (1) Family, (2) Lovegroves and (1) His Jaguars. Now he is a dinky di, his contribution to society, making us safe, and the Lovegrove name in the Hunter Valley, (BRAMLEY, to the Bush and Beyond), are commendable, is good bloke good, is MBE good?. The following anti climax is as follows;
MY FIRST RECOLLECTIONS, MAYBE.
I WAS BORN when I stuck a pea up my snozze, or when a troopship ran aground at Shell Harbor , I have dark visions of the crew and soldiers clambering down landing nets. Or was it the day a grey hound got to my pet foxie, mum screamed I cried, whenever, these are my earliest memories, others come and go like seeing my Uncles going to war, So I WAS BORN.
The autobiography of JohnFarls, me, has no great author, I am the Aussie ordinary bloke, in fact not officially recognized by Births Deaths & Marriages until 2006 after a protracted search over many years, (Grahams' dilemma, of many), yes, I have never had an original Birth Cert., or for that matter a copy until invaluable assistance from Martina of B.D.M., "you bloody champion", brought to the light of day birth details long lost for 66 years, " I am officially registed", how in the world could I produce I.D for the multitudinous Beaureucratic paper war that exists around us, drivers license, passport, marriage certs., social security to name a few, its got me zonked must have winged it?. So you can see I WAS BORN #2.
For the benefit of all concerned, importantly me, I am recording my memories in an essentially chronological order categorized thus, Super Blog #1; I WAS BORN IN THE BUSH, and Super Blog #2, I WAS BORN IN THE CITY.
I WAS BORN IN THE BUSH.
No way, my brand new Birth Certificate clearly indicates I WAS BORN at Crown St. Woman’s Hospital, Sydney and at this point perhaps we should read; "MY LIFE EXPERIENCES" WERE BORN IN THE BUSH AND THE CITY.
OK, how far back can I travel into the bush? My Mum and Dad traveled extensively seeking work, I'm not a naughty man but boy have I slept around, and also attended many schools, mum was a sheep station / hotel cook of great repute, dad had managerial qualities and together we would find ourselves on sheep stations all over N.S.W., I became "bush wise" and at an early age had opportunities for experiences city kids miss out on.
BUNDEMAR STUD AND BOONOKE STUD, MERINO SHEEP THAT IS.
Schooling whilst living on "BundEmar, Boonoke North and probably Haddon Rig", used a system from the then Blackfriars Correspondence School, boy was it great, Bundemar Stud via Trangie was special, your weeks schoolwork arrived by mail and mum or dad would supervise the delivery, although it was mainly assignments. I must have been a smart little kid, and could complete my school work in 3 / 4 days and then folks it was all play, (and chores) and adventures. There have been many professions I have mastered during my time, of course this is my opinion, and not least the important position of "Shearing Shed Tar boy". Now this person is required to dab hot tar on shearing cuts, its like a band-aid, and learn at an early age certain commands issued by the shearers and react accordingly, e.g.; "where's that little bastard with the tar bucket", or, "on the wound yer little s.h.1.t." and stuff like that, the record will indicate re-trenchment early in my career.
Another great skill I mastered was sweeping up the "crutching’s" read "dags", we won't go there. Where we can go is a place called "Gin Gin weir", at sometime a large portion of the weir broke away leaving a large gap for water to spill over. Now this is how I recollect the scene, am I wrong?, no matter, what can be said for this place is it's beauty and a wonderfull place for picnics and swimming and it occurs to this day. On selected days we would travel to the Weir for relaxation, (http://www.narromine.nsw.gov.au).
I guess that's why my complexion is so clean and pure, the lanolin. From a tender age I become attached to baby animals in particular the little lambs, in fact they were the reason for my first protest march, only kidding you soon get used to "docking" time when the lambs loose there tails. There were many other duties I assumed responsibility for, like supplying manure to Boonoke Homestead's gardens and orchard. At the tender age of (12) my job commenced very early morning to assist the "Jackaroo or Jillaroo", (politically correct = "Personaroo", crap!), harness up the Clydesdale to the dray, the tools of the trade consisted of a small banjo, (a #4 spade), a chaff sack cut down the seams and a rope tied to two corners.
It was then that I took full responsibility for Bessie and the wagon and I would proceed to the stud Merino's shed, this shed had a raised slated floor allowing you know what to fall through, is my job becoming clearer?, clambering under the floor with about (3) feet clearance, that’s for my American readers, you would shovel the pellets on the open chaff sack and drag the contents to the dray and load the (?) until overflowing. A slow trip of about (3) kilometers’ and I would unload my delivery for our Chinese gardener, I couldn’t understand him except for the "more preese" and so me and Bessie would back track for another load, this was to be my first paid job. For this period was my school holidays and I earned the princely sum (?), sorry, however I earned enough Aussie money to pay for my first "BB" gun a .177in. Daisy, mum ordered this armament through the "MYERS Melbourne" catalogue a big production in the bush at that time.
Another position of responsibility thrust upon me followed the directions; "we want yer ter Lavacide the bloody warrens in the out paddocks", rabbits were and still are a pest, they are animals but a pest. So what’s the job, "wot yer do is take this lavacide and the pressure pump, find yer warrens, right, dig in every burra except one and pump the stuff in, fill in and wait, if yer missed any burras fill the bastards". Generally, I would take a Jackaroo with me in the horse and sulky this time and it would be a day job, I think he actually took me. Lavacide was a deadly poison that emited toxic fumes, I suspect it's related to 24D.
Living at Boonoke North with mum, don't know where dad was, (another storey), was a bit of a luxury because we lived in quarters in the homestead, a huge house of "U" shaped proportions, mum was the cook and provided the meals for the Master, Otway Falkiner, (http://www.adb.online.anu.edu.au/biogs/A0807b.htm) and his family, incidentally the property consisted of, from memory, the main home, the veggie garden and orchard, managers quarters several outbuildings and the jackaroos residence and an abattoir plus the merino sheds on one side of the river. The bridge over the river lead to the shearer’s quarters and the main shearing sheds and beyond, there were many other buildings plus stables. A (4) level wooden structure adjacent to the right of the "Big Home" served as a fire tower and an excellent place for bee hives.
BLACKFRIARS CORRESPONDENCE SCHOOL.
Again, schooling consisted of the Blackfriars correspondence method, the difference here was unique, a small room was set aside in the jackaroos homestead where a lady would deliver the lessons to myself, a little girl, two brothers and a boy from a neighboring station. I imagine the population resembled that of a small village during the shearing season, can't remember how many stands would be accommodated by the shearers but it was vast, there would have been as many as 40 / 50 people living on Boonoke North during this time. Can you imagine living 'at' school? As I can remember our lessons came in a big envelope, our mistress would lead us through spellin' and sums, we would all help each other in our education, but the big school was the BUSH.
BUSH TUCKER.
I can remember diving for fresh water Mussels, catching fish in the river and Yabbie hunting in the dams. A piece of meat on a string and wire landing net was what you needed for the Yabbies, the bounty would be served up to the Jackaroos and guests on the occasion of a 'Bush Bash'. COURSE THE BEST MUTTON AND BEEF were on the table as well, my Mum played a great part in the preparation.
I used to walk or peddle my old bike for miles just exploring the vast area of Boonoke North, saw many snakes and heaps of native animals. Life can be good in the bush, but not all that often, for a young boy or girl the experience should not be missed.
THE GRAND MAN OF THE BUSH, OTWAY FALKINER.
There are many other notable experiences emanating from this wonderful place, not the least being the day mum copped a rev, "not the custard it tasts like wallpaper paste", the Master was quite a personage and was prone to exhibet his unique humour, he meant no offence and no offence was taken, I bet mum got a laught and gave some back. Otway Falkiner and his family would be our Patrons for the concerts and entertainment provided by the station population, I can clearly recollect the kids and me singing songs to the assembled audience from the front porch of the great homested, our instruments were banjos fashioned from cake tins, a stick and some twine. The little girl I mentioned recited a poem intittled "Cobbler, Cobbler mend my shoe, have it done by half past two" etc., we would lift her onto a table for this recital I can remember her distinct lisp to this day.The master was the backbone of the Bush, he was a very famous man, I would not know this then, he appeared to be just a kind and sensitive man yet was a solid 'Bushman', this was his property, he ruled with a strong but fair personality. Years later the stage beckoned me again but I will spare you that vision. But I am going to return to Bundamar Station via Trangie.
BUNDEMAR MERINO STUD, via TRANGIE N.S.W.
Many kilometers’ north, Bundemar via Trangie N.S.W. has given me many special memories, circa 1947 (?), we moved there from I know not where, as with Boonoke via Widgewa M.I.A. we lived on the homestead, had similar times to the above, I am enclosing B&W's later. Memories include being supplied with a length of 8 gauge wire, folded and twisted to form a formidable snake breaker, this piece of hardware was ever present during evening walks, I remember the raft built for me from an old wooden gate with kerosene drums lashed to provide flotation, the shipwright was a black American Jackaroo, my flotation was a "May West", more comments about racial things later. I was the only kid for miles around but would meet other 'Bush' kids when we visited The Gin Gin Weir for picnics and a swim. people came from miles around to this wonderfull place.
On our shoping visits to Trangie a stop was always in order at the "local", the entertainment was provided by a "Bullen Bullen" parrot, He / She could sing "Little Old Lady Passing By" in 5 languages and in 4 part harmony, serious, the bird could whistle the whole tune and say a verse or two, you had to be there, (circa 1950?).
THE MAIN MAN, STUD MERINO RAM, (he was a baby then).
We all come into contact with notable people from time to time, how is this. Remember the comments about lambs, well, mum and dad and I adopted a little ram lamb, he would follow us every where ever we went, (I should have been named Mary), down to the billabong, along the roads around the property, and, although he lived in a special place we would see him daily. Regrettably, as he grew he became a little naughty and would fall behind, (operative word), as we walked the sound of quickening little hoofs would be warning of an impending shunt. It became impossible to enjoy our walks with this rat bag, although I still kept in contact with him. He sold at auction for a world record 4500 guineas, that’s $9000 Aus +.
Living in the bush is a hard slog now as was then, we lived well and survived, as a child I can't remember missing out on a feed. Most fruit and veggies products were obtained from the land, while essential items, tea sugar flour 'bacca came from regular trips to town and beyond, (The Myers people had all the good stuff). We had our pets, although the sheep dogs were treated a bit rough on occasion, except when I was around and I would sneak some "sweets' to them.
A VERY FAMOUS GALAH, so is the bird I RECON!
check out my "sookie", that's the MAY WEST.
One of my pets was a baby Galah, he came to me literally out of the sky, he fell out of his nest and was rescued by a station worker, (Bundemar Merino Stud), the poor little fella had hardly any clothes on, god knows what I fed him on, the important fact was he survived and became completely domesticated, a photo will be forthcoming. This story has a happy ending for everybody, including myself in regards to caged animals, we moved back to the city eventually and the "squawker" came with us, my Grandma owned a tenement house / residential at 112 Palmer Street (wait!) Woolloomooloo in Sydney where we would stay. This story will be included in I WAS BORN IN THE CITY. More later......
AUSTRALIAN BUSH POEMS, MAYBE, BUSH POETRY, COULD BE.
