NEW BOOK#2 STUFF, #7 How kids pick up language, sorry, words. Heard a joke years ago. Little Tommy is five; mom and dad are building an extension to their house. I’M A BRICKIES LABORER MUMMY. © john d Farley, 2008. The look of excitement and wonder was written on his little face. "Mummy, what are all them men doing digging up our place". Well darling, those men are called brickies, and their going to do some layin’. Build a little place for Grandma, ‘cos with us she’ll soon be stayin’.   The little bloke observes the action from a vantage on the drive. There’s things a’churnin’ things a’whirren, so much good stuff, his place has come alive. "Mummy can I play with them", in his mind’s eye stuff’s revolvin’. His little mind was all-aglow and new things were evolvin’.   Mummy sees a plan unfolden’, it’s like and educational obsession. Let him learn some things, he’ll be safe, ‘cos this will be his little life’s big session. Mister foreman, "Can Tommy join you for lunch, I’ll pack his little crib". "No probs missus sends him down and we’ll keep our language glib"   Now not every day can little Tommy go and join his brickie mates. His little school takes precedence, one last look the little fella’ takes. But many days he makes his little journey; he sits on an upturned brick. Eats his crib and he chats a lot, many questions asked, they come out fast and thick.   Well little fella what did you do today, and what did you all talk about? "We mixed some mud, laid them bricks, and then we raked them out". Got a tip for the horses races, what’s number 6 in race 10, and mummy what’s the nags. We talked about how Manly won, silver tails they called ‘em, and a bunch of dags.   And then one day little Tommy storms home and pelts his crib down on the table. Only been gone awhile, I’ll ask the little bloke what’s the matter when I can see he’s able. Tommy darling your home early, there’s a tear in his little eyes. "We got knocked off, ‘cos we got no bloody work", his little voice replies.   The boss bloke recons, that bloody truckie is up to his bloody tricks. "Yez can all go home youse bloody blokes, see yez all tamarra, bloody sorry Tommy".   "Mummy we got no friggen bricks". © John d Farley, 2008.   THE R.E.D. Scheme, REGIONAL EMPLOYMENT AND DEVELOPMENT SCHEME. John d Farley, and his interpretation. Circa 1974. Without doubt. The RED Scheme was innovative, needed but sometimes doubted, that’s the many of my tautologies and double entourages. Developed by the LABOR GOVERNMENT, 72 / 75, that’s last century, broadly consisted of the following declarations;     You want money from the Government, well work for it.     All of the above well work for it.     All of the above, well get of your arse.     All of the above, we will train you to get of your arse.     The pay is not bad, so get of your arse.     If your want to do something worthwhile, all of the above.     Get out and enjoy fellow workers company, well work for it.     All of the above get of your date.     The DOLE is too easy, get off your bottom / behind / date / rectum / posterior / bum / backside / butt / arse, have a go you bastards.     Finally. Have a go, you might like it.   That’s it, now the plan. (Letter from / to the Government). You, the LOCAL COUNCILS, the third tier of Government give us some stuff you would like built, give us some things you would like developed. How can we assist your local community? We, THE LABOR GOVERNMENT, will look at your requests; we will allocate funds to secure your requests. You will spend this money to enhance your community; this money will establish a degree of financial efficiency you have been strapped for. So what happened? Bloody UNIONS, bloody DOGOODERS, oops, LIBERALS. The incredible repartee and dialogue that transposed the inception, the moral issues and debates on pissy issues. The RED Scheme went ahead. Thousands of willing citizens will soon be in a justifiable job, and they will have an extra little, (operative word), money with which to support themselves and their families. HOW DID THE SLEEPING GIANT WORK? THUS, I think.   "Submit to us your Regional Development application, give us a costing, your labour needs, give us your needs analysis".     "OK, that sounds good; we will allocate funding to your respective STATE GOVERNMENT DEPARTMENT".     "YOU WILL BE INFORMED IN DUE COURSE OF YOUR FUNDING INTITLEMENTS"     The STATE GOVERNMENT DEPT., allocates a heap of money, less; petrol money, lunch money, pencils and stationary, bog paper and Computers, (they were not around then).     The LOCAL COUNCIL, forgive me, acts likewise.     Possibly, approximately, the LOCAL COUNCIL, HAS 60% OF THE FEDERAL ALLOCATION, (that’s mine).     The LOCAL COUNCIL allocates COUNCIL people to oversee proceedings, now there is 45% left, (that was mine).     "YOU BLOODY BEAUTY" work begins.   The underlying concept of this sequence of events, in fact my storyline, has underlying? You will see and understand a compelling need for johnfarls to use speculation, in case you missed the point. But I know your with me, can you see where the precious funds went too. The DOLE BLUDGERS eventually became the "dole experiments", our heart was there but the "heart" of the money was spent. Many COUNCILS, Nation wide, many inept and fraudulent officers made vast sums of money from this genuine attempt to alleviate poverty, and to give our people some self respect. The LABOR people had the best interests of our citizens in mind. It was scuttled by inept Bigotry and Bureaucracy. In my region of the world many worthwhile ventures came to fruition, The BRUNSWICK HEADS MEMORIAL HALL extension, the CLARKS BEACH TOILET BLOCK, the CAPTAIN COOK LOOKOUT BLOCK, the BANGALOW POOL amenities BLOCK, the BRUNSWICK HEADS amenities BLOCK and Soccer Field and Cricket Field. Including in the completion were; many amenity facilities in MULLUMBIMBY and surrounding areas. These constructions are still viable and relatively service free to this day. Let me give you an example of how Federal monies were allocated; THE LOCAL COUNCIL submits an allocation for funding to construct an amenities block. It will be the size of two houses, less the cost of the land. It will be built with materials and resources at a vastly lower cost than a contractor could ever imagine. The wage bill will be funded by the FEDERAL LABOR PARTY. WE are in the year 1974. The R.E.D. SCHEME people will receive $110 a week. The allocation requested is for a sum of $85,000, you off the floor yet. House and land package deals were being negotiated at OCEAN SHORES, (WENDELL WEST) for $20,000, (furnished). You would think that THE COUNCIL has applied for an excessive amount for a s---h---1---t house. NOW, under approval from all Bureaucracies, only 5% of mechanical means may be used to move stuff, like back hoes, tractors, front-end loaders and mechanical tools. However you could use a cement mixer. At one time I MIXED MUD FOR 5 "BRICKIES". It also gave me great trepidation when back filling 18 meters of sand to a foundation with a no 5 "Banjo", but "I NO COMPLAIN". This was not an uncommon example. I’ll conclude for now, put a more positive approach to RED SCHEME. Must tell you another bucket full of rain is approaching, Friday, April 18, 2008. ---- PAINTERS AND TILLERS, WETTIE AND FARLS. Well for a matter of weeks it was a battle, getting the kids to school, picking them up and things that a parent, (single), has to do. I had negotiated with the overseer a deal; reduce my wage to carry out my responsibilities, and then my in-laws moved to Brunswick Heads. There were John and Rowie, Katie, Natalie and little JR, now their got two extra. WE quickly found John Wettie, formally; Johan Evert Weterkamp a position with the Scheme. John was a painter of great note; I had been "casing" the scene. Painters and tillers were not to be had, John could paint, I couldn’t, both John and myself couldn’t tile. WE told the foreman some ‘furphys’, when he asked us were we trade people, we nodded, that’s not fibbing, is it? For 9 months we painted and tilled all of the newly completed Amenities blocks in the BYRON SHIRE, 34 years later the results of our labors are still evident, but don’t look to close. WE had some funny times, the Dutchman and me, I guess he won’t be cranky if I relate a few. Firstly, however, must tell you we found a more comfortable flat. A place where the young blokes had their own space and a bit of property to play on, things are getting more comfortable. I never sought a partner, on occasion would have liked some help. But this was my lot in life. The boys made friends quickly; they loved sport, and the beach and fishing. Weekends were all go with cricket and soccer and visits to Rowie and John’s place. They will probably never read this narrative; John and Rowie the debt will never be repaid. MISSION BROWN, 2 MILLION TILES AND ‘GUNJA’. The fellow travelers, our REDDIES MATES, we worked harmoniously. We had Brickies and laborers’, Carpenters, and us. We had plumbers and electricians, we had a few bludgers, and these guys were sorted. The assignments would be initiated, and at the completion of each contract the traditional broomstick was erected on the rooftop. 110 dollars a week was a God send, and you felt privileged to contribute to the community, you had the week planned for you. Many anecdotes came from the red Scheme; there were a diverse group of sometimes itinerant, sometimes nomadic, mostly local people involved. 16% unemployment was the enigma of the Northern NSW Council area, been there? You will know why. ME MATE ‘WETTIE’ AND ME, (and WACKIE BACCCIE). Our job was to complete the tiling and painting, largely unsupervised. Well a lovely yarn involves Wettie and me. The playing fields Amenities Block on the south side of BRUNSWICK HEADS were a result of the RED initiative; I was there from woe to go, Brickies Laborer, Painter and Tiller. We were in the finishing stages; painting and tiling. We were having lunch at the site this day, just John and I. I notice a small plastic bag on the grass, (turns out to be the operative word), it contains a packet of cigarette papers and some strange green leafy stuff. "Bugger me Wettie, think it could be wackie bacci"? We cogitate, we deliberate, we contemplate, and we decide to experiment. WE were both smokers, but that and an occasional amber liquid was our only foray into drugs, incredible as it may sound. WE finished our lunch period sharing a spilff, gradually entering a state of remarkable insight and a time of inconceivable appreciation of humor. For the rest of the afternoon. We felt no pain, we solved all of the problems of the world, and we did no work. The wonder of our surroundings was immersed in funny impressions, ants were funny, paint was funny, and the passing traffic was ecstatically humorous. The number plate on John’s Car became a secret CIA PASSWORD, WE ENTERED SECRET precincts; we swore each other to secrecy. Funny was hilarious, humor was all enduring. And then we cleaned up and we went home, and we still are smiling to this day. IT’S TIME TO GET SOME philosophy OUTA’ THE FRAME. The above indicates what can be achieved; the present system is a fiasco. Why? Too much money in the Bureaucratic arena and not enough to the working people. The present system kicks in when people have been unemployed for an extended period, they have become used to the "handouts", and their will to work for an equitable wage has crumbled, that is, for most. Give them something to do. Your author later became involved in the field of: THE LONG TERM UNEMPLOYED, they should not have been allowed to sanction valuable working time for boredom. They should have had the opportunity to do something worthwhile. GRANTS? For what, organizations within organizations, duplication of duties? Give the money to LOCAL BASED COUNCILS, (closely monitored must I say), there is shitload of infrastructure needing urgent attention out there. And why won’t it be a feasible plan? In a preceding paragraph, briefly, was my reason(s). BYRON SHIRE COUNCIL had a remarkably professional ‘in-house’ Training and Placement organization; BYRON EMPLOYMENT AND TRAINING CORPORORATION. This organization was staffed by professional, caring people, I know I was one of them. A later story. MORE "RED SCHEME" Chronicles. And so for 9 months John and I did our service to the community, we earn our Social Security, and we loved it. We met some great people and had a lot of experiences. Won’t dwell on the not so happy people who just did not want to be there, only a few. ME MATE THE "SPARKS", AND A NAUGHTY TRICK. WE built the old peoples community hall at BYRON BAY. This hall is still in use today, it had meeting rooms and amenities, a large hall and WAS just up the road from FERROS VILLAGE IN BYRON BAY. NOTE; Any body that is a local in ‘THE BAY’ will know the incredible amount of time and effort the old bloke MR. FERROS put into community. He worked tirelessly to provide a HOME for the older people. Anyone can research this great blokes input. Any way, John and myself tiled and painted this lovely edifice. We were so particular; we primed and under coated every stick of exposed timber and trim work, before it was cut to size. The carpenters were incredulous. Wettie was professional, he is the only painter I know who was an indentured apprentice tradesman. No stuffing around, "paint the bastard proper". "THERE SEEMS TO BE TO MANY WIRES". Things were a bit slack one day; the electrician has come to town. He has to pull wire throughout the building. He needs a helper, and he gets me. AC / DC, no not really. The relationship lasted for many years, I became a TRADESMANS ASSISTANT. We wired the building, we fitted the lights, and we wired the power points, hot water service, fans and all the jazz. He actually left me in charge on day, he was to regret this decision, would Peter Ryan. In the centre Courtyard there would be a series of outside lights, we ran the wires around the inner timber frame prior to the BRICKIES runnin’ up the brick wall. The wires would protrude through the brick course ready for a light fitting, there were six lights, and I knew that. My job was to insure that the Brickies laid the wires in the correct position, and that the wires protruded through the brick course. No probs here, until. "LET’S PLAY A TRICK". The long and the short was that several pieces of lighting cable were protruding, (MORE THAN THERE WERE LIGHTS ON THE PLAN). Now I’m half smart, the bogus pieces of wire were duly noted, ON PAPER! A short time later me mate Peter arrives, he checks out the light circuit, alls well Farls, "we’ll fit the lights later". BIT OF A SHAGGY DOG STORY THIS ONE, you still there? BUT HANG ON, "THERE’S 10 CABLES AND ONLY 6 LIGHTS, BLOODY RED SCHEME", you grinning, I was, (albeit embarrassed), the brickies was, Just as well I kept some notes. Peter checks and double checks and the admission; "you pricks". ME, ME BANJO, AND 18 METRES OF BLOODY SAND AS I have mentioned, the first, did I? Was the MEMORIAL HALL IN FINGAL ST? The contract was to re furbish and paint the old brick building, including an extension at the back of the building. The extension would be complete with a new kitchen and ‘Loos for the Patrons of the many community gatherings. This building is used when the ‘shiny’ bums seek (re) election, a place to cast your democratic rights. Over the years this old hall has been the venue for many functions, it well and truly needed TLC. Basically I was a "roustabout" and laborer, sanding window frames and assisting various trades’ people. And then the extension outback. "Can you mix mud?" Now I knew what they were eluding to; Batch up mortar for the Brickies and generally attend to their needs, like set up their work stations, supply bricks and listen for the constant demand, "more friggen’ mud". No problems, you show me, I do. I must point out that there was not too many Bricklayers out of work, OCEAN SHORES DEVELOPMENT CORPORATION, (WENDALL WEST AND PAT BOONE), were in the early stages. There many dwellings being constructed on the development and bricklayers were mainly employed on the "Brick and Tile" Village. The RED scheme had to wait for a ‘window’ to get teams, one catch; the Scheme had to supply them with laborers, I became one of the first in our area. The work was hard, but only two brickies, and they were patient. WELL, why not, they were paid by the hour, far more than what I was getting. They showed how to get the "mud" right and actually helped with the laboring and the "raking" out of the mortar joints, I would discover later that (5) brickies is a killer. Anyway the brick foundation for the extension was completed; all that was needed was to back fill in preparation for a concrete slab. Who back filled the foundation? You got it, 36 years of age, rarin’ to go. 5% of mechanical means? Make that 3%. No back hoes, no conveyers, just muscle power, AND 18 METRES TIMES 2 OF WASHED BEACH SAND. OH YEAH! And just me. When the job was completed I had muscles in me eyebrows, like biceps. WHO IS THAT OLD PRICK? AGAIN, i ASKED. So here’s the scene; A huge BATSON’S TRUCK appears, it dumps 18 metres of sand. Not close to the site, but 2 shovel throws from the job. I have to throw this pile of sand to another pile and pelt it into the foundation. Day after day, what have I got? A no. 5 ‘Banjo’, short handle. Nevertheless I did it, was I shagged? Well I slept well, after feeding the little fellas’. NOW HERE COMES THE SECOND LOAD. It’s history now; I look back and cogitate, what was that? Some sort of an achievement, a triumph, an exploit? No, the feat was PUTTING UP with the older block who would visit nearly every morning, lean on the fence and generally talk. I nodded, grunted, acknowledged, and tried to ignore this bloke. But never did stop from my appointed task, he learnt my life’s history. This, when I think back is a puzzle. He would ask a question, I’d nod, "you got kids?" I’d grunt, "how many?" two fingers. "Great place Brunswick Heads, A?" nod. Day after day. WHO WAS THIS MASKED MAN? One day I approached the Supervisor, used a fair bit of tact; "who’s the old prick who comes down every second day and hassles me shitless?" OH John, that’s our SHIRE PRESIDENT, he reckons’ you are a great worker. "QUOTE". Bugger, Bob become a friend, he pulled some "strings" later. HOW WE SURVIVED. (THIS SHOULD HAVE FIRST).  OK we did it rough for while, mentioned I was broke. That was somewhat true, I had a coupla’ Superannuation Policies, they were my backstop but inaccessible. (The hardship clause has been included in later life). I paid rent, and lived frugally, and supported the boys with the money I had. Until I found some work, that was how it had to be. But work was evading me. How does one look after two small boys and hold down any sort of profession, they commenced school, which left me from 9am / 3pm. Not many jobs in that time frame. My good friends from Avalon would offer some work as they could afford, but remember the recession? Not the bugger "We had to have", the one in the 1972 / 75 era. It helped to put me on the bones of my pants, my Company(s) suffered, we suffered. I guess I never came back. And yet here was a person with many skills, but where to apply them? To some degree life experiences don’t help when things go ape s—h—1—t. But wait! You can put the hankies away; remember the opening HOME PAGE line; "You who expect nothin’ from life will not be disappointed", quote; ‘Winstine’. Well thank you JERRY REED you old "’GATOR MAN". Smell the flowers you great picka’. "Well what you expect is not what you get", quote; JohnFarls, maybe someone else said that, will this be my first plagerisation? Sue me, you can’t get piddle from the diddle of a bloke my age. We get there in the end. And then one day I’m walking up Fingal Street, that’s BRUNSWICK HEADS NSW. A lot of action is happening at the Memorial Hall, banging and hammering and tradesmen tooing and frowing, (spell checker spits the dummy). A very important man is approached; "Can you use a willing worker", my inquiry is parried by; "Are you unemployed". Well the reply is off course in the affirmative. "Well have you got a pink certificate, I may be able to find some work for you", however; "You will have to go on the waiting list". ‘Pink certificate’, haven’t even got a Birth Certificate. (In fact I never had an original Birth certificate until 2006, but that’s another story). We commence to dialogue, and I discover that you have to be "ON THE DOLE" to get this pink piece of paper, well I’m friggen not. Is that it? Will this be my enigma, my final bloody straw? A plan is hatched on the spot, "If I get a @%$# PINK (* %&^$) CERTIFICATE I will see you in (2) days for a job, OK? I have two small boys to support, I need some income". This man was to become, begrudgingly, my friend, and my Brother in Law’s friend. I went to MURWILLUMBAH, applied for DOLE, did the deed and returned to haunt him, the good man relented, for (9) months I found justifiable employment on the REGIONAL EMPLOYEMENT DEVELOPMENT SCHEME. Now I am a Brickie’s Laborer, a Tiller, a Painter, and an Electricians Trades Assistant. My Brother In-law Wettie and my Sister In-law Rowie would move up here in a very short while, they will be so wonderfully helpful, in fact; I WILL NEVER LIVE LONG ENOUGH TO REPAY THEM. Nine months we worked on the SCHEME, IS THAT A GESTATION PERIOD? All I know is that hope was born again. THE BLOKE FROM MULLUMBIMBY, GOLF CLUB THAT IS. © john d farley 2008. You won’t know this fella, till I get on with me prose. But I’ll tell ya this my friends, I think he’s one of those. Now before you howl me down and question my social status. My job here blokes is to tell a story, not just how johnfarls rates us.   They stuck him in the Navy; he used to box for sport. Adds. were placed upon his soles you would see these adds quite often. With the gloves my friends he wasn’t good, he should have stuck to golfin. Milkin cows he tried, roamin from wide and far, his hands will bear the evidence, 5 thirty shows the scar.   He has a friend, and, boy is she a cutie, beats me folks how a bloke like him ends with such a beauty. So that’s a little yarn about this bloke, and not much have you gleans. His place in life aren’t nothing much, that’s as a bloke I means. But let me tell you just how much he makes the AUSSIE bloke, yeah golf’s the go, He didn’t have a clue, played off 87, and his goals were for the dough.   Well Bruce and me were average, Ross was good at golf, THE BLOKE had a problem though, his putting, well, was off. His wallet bulged with ego and one day he laid the claim, you and Bruce and Ross and me will play the noble game. Let me dwell upon the rules, sheep stations weren’t the scene. A beer a beer a beer and two bob, you lose, Ok vent your spleen.   The game was in the best of jest, we practiced the art of discourse. But if you lose old friend, two bob thanks, and that has got no recourse. The BLOKE my friends would not lay down, his courage was divine, we all lived of his wagers, all night we wined and dined. Somehow Bruce and me felt time was grown’ thin’, lets have a triathlon we suggested, best of three to win.   Really not the Olympics but a contest just the same, the aim was winnen’, two out three the aim. Darts, Euchre, Golf were the games we competed, glory for the victor let the loser please stay seated. One last thing about our bloke, it concerns that Euchre game, with one spade he goes alone his partner Ross is shamed. The BLOKE was hopeless in all these sports but never would he yield, then my friends the town soon found out he had a special field.   One day we all run last you see, and thinking with a smile, the BLOKE writes some prose, recites some stuff and leaves us for a mile. You see my friends, please forgive my comments oh so rude, RAY you beaut, we re-vere you in gratitude. We enjoy your yarns, we’re infected, you’re the people’s choice. And an Aussie yarn has impetus simply by your voice.   Mullumbimby bred a BLOKE, BUT Bruce and Ross and me, we bred HIM too, THE MULLUMBIMBY BLOKE is out there folks, he belongs to me and you. © John d Farley 2008, but Ray old friend it’s yours. YOU LIKE OYSTERS, HOW DO YOU LIKE THEM? WE have two little blokes, Zack was the first, now we have another little fella, his name is KAI, THEY were both the result of IVF TREATMENT, WRONG. 3 times Belinda was subjected to this intrusion, many miles, much trauma, and then the A LA NATURAL. ZACK you good thing. 4 TIMES IVF, and then KAI, YOU GUESSED IT. (YOU LIKE OYSTERS). ME LITTLE MATE KAI, FARLEY THAT IS. Santa Rudd, oh Santa Rudd you promised me a bike. All you sent me was baby, so Tuggarawong I must hike.   You had the gall to tell us you will keep your wishes true. All I got was this little thing all in baby blue. I haven’t seen me present yet you couldn’t manage that; you delivered him to Gosford miles from where I’m at.   One thing that I can tell you, oh Santa Rudd Mister Sir, I guess that’s your idea of politics; it’s on the positive that you err. But I’ve heard him on the telephone his Mum’s been put to test. BELINDA YOU’RE A CHAMP, his present is you breast.   Little ZACK, HIS BROTHER, Michael and Oh, his daddy DAVID too, THANK you MR. RUDD and I almost forgot BELINDA, THE LITTLE MOTHER, She’s the one, wishes do come true. PS: Mr. Santa Rudd, you couldn’t even get the IVF right four times we sent you cards. Your reply was "do it a la natural", they did, now Kai is here, that pleases this old bard. © john Farley, AKA, johnfarlsbrunz, johnfarls, 2008. I’LL TRY AGAIN. FARLEY’S COMPLETELY OBSCURE. © john d farley Oh how do you WRITE a blues song come out with Brunswick Valley? Can you listen to the mournful sounds of ANZAC and the sounds of old reveille? Well I’ve listened to the white folk, the black folk and also the just no hope. I just don’t need any misery, but I guess we all go down that awful slope.   And I don’t need someone to love me just follow my big mistake. Had a good time doin’ it, thanks to all the girls, give yourselves a break. Been living in the Valley, bangin’ at recallin’ what the hell I’ve done. Tried to bring me boys up in a way that folks expect, had me problems, and then more then some.   Well I got a bagful of worries but go from woe to go, give your head a bloody fist. Dream, it ai’nt really funny folks, how you do’in? you guys followin’ this round of tryst If you can learn how love go’s you’re a winner baby, live it with respect put in a good feeling every day. Don’t let good things bring up much, a sad time is commin’, the love of life so precious will bring dismay.   Every time the sun goes’s down think of family, have a cry then think of the really good times, think of the good shoes. Dwell on faces, have a look at a flower, then picture the happy days, my face is worn out, this is my idea of the blues. Mother’s day at Brunswick Heads, me Mum resides with me, well her ashes, her presence will never leave my span. I’ll go with her, I’ll be happy, but I’ll swear we had happy days, wish I knew her dreams before this life… I recon half her ashes were the cigarette ash in the omelet pan.   SMELL THE FLOWERS while the blossoms bloom, takes the time my friend to sing a happy tune. You could be my everything, my Mum and I invite you in…will ya come by soon. Words slip away, all these words were written using JERRY REEDS ANTHOLOGY. The best bloke ever who could pick’n and sing. © ©John d Farley 2008, thanks Jerry bloody Reed.