A Point of View

Well I suppose it all started back in 1956 when my parents decided to emigrate to Australia. My dear old dad god rest his soul, worked a the head cowsman on numerous dairy farms that were scattered across the English country side. We weren't rich by any means, but those childhood memories of growing up on a farm will stay with me for the rest of my life. Dad called us all together one day to inform us we were moving to Australia. His decision could have been influenced by the full tank of fuel an American jet had accidentally dropped in the side paddock just four weeks prior. The explosion just about blew up the house and us with it. Good old dad made them pay dearly for that inconsiderate stuff up, and made them cough up twenty quid and two packs of Yankee chewing gum. The orchard that normally flourished at the side of the house was never the same after that, and neither were my parents. During the second world war, mum lived in London during the Blitz, and dad was in the R.A.F assigned to a bomber squadron. They thought they had seen the last of the bombing.

After six weeks sea sickness, and twelve thousand miles of what I thought never ending rough sea, I arrived in Sydney slightly the worse for wear. We moved straight to Brisbane, and that's where I've stayed to this day. In 1965 I decided I'd finally had enough of high school. I thought my teacher was unfair in confiscating my .22 semi-automatic rifle and my hundred rounds of ammunition that I used on a Wednesday afternoon instead of going to boring sport. I'd peddle my bike five miles to the bush at the back of our house and go duck shooting. I got my rifle back, but not for long; Dad took it for keeps this time after a stray bullet went through the wall of the outside fibro dunny while he was sitting on the thunder box. Later I nailed a job in a supermarket which I thought would keep me in cash until I could make a few million playing drums in a rock band. If Ringo Starr from the Beatles could do it I thought, so could I. Yeah, that worked a treat didn't it. Riding motorcycles seemed to me, at the time, another great idea. I would be a world champion motorcycle Grande Prix racer. After getting out of hospital, I thought it a better idea to stick with retailing, which was not as lucrative as the above, but a hell of a lot safer. I ran my own marketing company for quite a number of years and after a heart attack in 2002 and a quick bi-pass, I was introduced to Ned Kelly. While recuperating my tactful wife brought home from the library a book titled A Short Life. As I stared inquisitively at the cover, I thought, 'Gee whiz Ros, a bloody book about Ned Kelly, and look at the title. Are you trying to tell me something I don't know?' With no other new reading matter at hand, I started to read, and read and.... Yes, Ned had me hook line and sinker. Ever since that day I've read whatever material I could gather on this Australian legend, in hard copy or on the Internet, and that's what eventually led me to Glenrowan 1880 and Dave White. In 2006 I published a book of verse on the Kelly story titled Bound For Judgement and Dave was kind enough to review it and advertise it on his site. In my retirement I have just completed a novel titled Far Beyond the Falls which you can read here on Glenrowan 1880 thanks to Dave. I'm by no means a researcher on Ned Kelly, but by crikey, I do love to talk about him.