OFFSHORE WINDS OF CHANGE.
Another move back to Sydney- now first love Bondi Beach was just a short bus ride away.
Through my friend with the red board I quickly became friends with some locals, great surfers, great guys and real characters.
A couple were Australian Junior and Senior Champions, so surfing standards were amongst the World's best. It was beautiful and inspiring simply to watch them and study their individual styles as they 'flowed' with the waves.
Inspired, I took my first job - delivering newspapers, well, most of them, selling more than a few along the way for cash, a few shillings of 'milk money' left on doorsteps for the milkman also ended in my pockets.
I was soon the proud owner of my own shining custom-made surfboard, and surfing with my own 'crew', they even had cars so we could chase perfect waves up and down the coast of what was then deserted beaches..
My surfing came together, my schooling fell apart.
My tenuous link with an army career also snapped.
My new High school hosted a unique blend of ethnic backgrounds. The school tried to educate, but the kids were busy teaching themselves to build knuckle dusters in metalwork or how to create a 'book' to bet on the races.
I laboriously copied an absence note from my mother saying I had been sick, and the number of notes in the headmaster's files steadily mounted.
I was in the final year of Matriculation, which would qualify me to go to University, and there was a huge amount of pressure to do well.
I had gone from an A student constantly to actually narrowly failing the “Leaving Certificate.
JUDGMENT DAY
A few special schools were set up to give those who had failed a final opportunity to qualify for University.
Some mates were going to a Catholic college in an old sandstone building with a beautiful church in the city’s heart.
Wear what you want, whatever haircut you wanted and even smoking between classes, it was the perfect school for me.
I was still an imperfect pupil, the local snooker halls beckoned.
If I wasn’t taking time off to head for the bliss of the beach, I was heading for the snooker halls.
Suddenly, my own Judgement Day arrived.
I was called before the school board.
Five Brothers in black robes sat at a huge raised table creating a distorted sense of perspective, a pitcher of water placed precisely half-way.
Experiencing purgatory, I sat humbly below their steady gaze as they listed my evil ways:
“Never at school, always at the beach, spending time in snooker halls,
If you want to a professional surfer or snooker player you would be better
leaving now and pursuing those activities
and we wish you good luck and God speed!"
A quick internal review of my snooker and surfing. Ok at both...but earn a living from either, my stomach contracted, and my heart sank.
“Or, you could spend the rest of your time here and we will do all within
our power to help you achieve some sort of academic qualification.”
Instant decision, I’d go for it.
My new English teacher was totally passionate about his subject and shared his love of English.
Classics burst into life, words had color and depth, meaning, rhythms and textures. I'd been attracted to writing little stories since I was a child, mostly war stories as a way to connect with my father. The teacher recognized this and nurtured it.
I delivered on my promise to apply myself, and became the proud possessor of a Matriculation Certificate with an ‘A ‘in English -
I was qualified to go to University, but I'd had enough of schooling.
Advertising! A career that promised to be 'creative' and combined writing, graphics, and film, all the things I was beginning to be interested in. I started writing to advertising agencies asking if they were interested in someone interested in learning,
The winds of change were also blowing through the music world.
The Beatles were starting to ride the airwaves and actually came to Australia, before their swell of popularity became the huge wave of Beatlemania.
My Auntie asked me if I would chaperone my younger cousin to their show and she would buy the tickets. Oh Yeah, yeah, yeah!
Beatlemania? Pandemonium!
Dressed in suits my father would have approved of, but maybe not the haircuts. The screaming started before a note was played and just grew in intensity, millions of waving arms like upside-down beetles with the Beatles barely audible.
Little did I know The Beatles would play a big part being the soundtrack to much of my formative years.