The essence of this story is true, Dear Reader. Ahh me; I wish I could claim it as my own but it was related to me by the individual himself. One has merely devised a means of passing it on to you.
|Series:||CHRISTMAS UNDER THE BANYAN TREE Tales of the Festive Season|
|File size:||111 KB|
About the Author
There's not a lot to tell really, though on reflection, looking back on it through the lens of one’s recollections and memories, the whole business seems more akin to an extended Huckleberry Finn adventure, but set in the vastness of Central Australia. Born, raised and schooled in Alice Springs; taken from the leafy glades of learning mid-way through Year-eight to work at my father's remote little copper mine; later employed for some years driving his cattle-hauling road trains – him having pioneered road trains and the cattle hauling business (see "Kurt Johannsen: A Son of the Red Centre"). Married in the fullness of time; built a bush homestead on the northern edge of the Simpson Desert and raised a family there, all while running a small tungsten mining business and provisioning the hundred or so Aboriginal people local to the area who adopted us. Sold our mine and homestead a few years after the kids had flown the coop, acquired a forty foot (12m) touring coach, converted it into a big steel-wheel mobeel Palaise-de-passion motor home and took to the roads of this great land of Oz - in the main visiting our offspring (most of whom had moved to coastal regions), our grandchildren generally and a couple of great grandies, plus various friends and associates from years gone by. So these days all I have to do is keep the missus happy – my Bride my Precious Lamb and Flower of the Early Mid Morning. "Anywhere you wish, my darling," I tell her. "You just say the word and we'll be on our way." So it's free as the breeze, we are now, out and about having wild and exciting adventures and being amazingly cool generally. Best job I ever had.