Patriot Realm

I first saw the light of day .. night actually .. at 3 a.m. on Wednesday 19th October 1932 at the Rosslyn Private Hospital in Macmillan Street in Ayr. Many things happened in that year, in Australia and world-wide, but to a youngster growing up what was going on in the immediate vicinity was pure magic. Being the last born of three, having two older sisters, and living a few miles out of town on a farm growing sugar cane, the main crop of the Burdekin district, was like living in Paradise. We had a Jersey cow called Cherry, who provided lots of wonderful milk, and when I was older Dad taught me how to milk, and importantly to be wary of a nogoora burr filled tail which she liked to use to swat the unwary person on the milking stool.

Sorry Malcolm.... I couldn't help it. Meggsie made me do it.

Not having a separator, Dad made a large flat and shallow tray made of tin which fitted on one shelf of the kerosene fridge, and Mum was able to skim off the rich thick cream to make, with sugar and eggs, an ice cream to die for .. can taste it still. The skimmed milk was much appreciated by a little, soon to be big, pig, which didn’t have a name. We also had mango trees, very useful for learning to climb, and many happy hours were spent exploring their branches. Cherry became very fond of eating mangoes and when ripe ones were plentiful could be seen contentedly munching on one and in delicate ladylike fashion ejecting the seed, and over indulgence sometimes led to mango flavoured milk.

The years scurried by and soon it was time to go to school. Airdmillan School was a one teacher school about three miles away, and as I then had learned to ride a bike, sisters Margery and Mickey and I would happily pedal off each morning for our daily ration of learning. Airdmillan School is no longer there sadly, but there is a plaque listing head teachers to mark the spot.

A neighbour remarked that “those Kirke children are odd, the eldest girl rides along singing, the next one is whistling, and the boy pedals along talking to himself ”, a habit that has persisted for 80 years or so.

 I have done it again and put something in that you will wonder why.. but it did have whistling

We didn’t realise at the time that I was very short sighted, and this led to many anxious moments while riding to and from school when pieces of burnt cane trash on the road looked very much like a snake, as they were not uncommon around the farms. It was a relief some years later when a visit to local optometrist Les French identified the problem.

He took me to the front door of his premises and asked me to read the time on the Memorial clock at the far end of the block. He thought I was kidding when I  asked “what clock”, then realised that I was serious and did have a problem. From then on wearing glasses became part of my life.

 Hence the lead image of this article.That clock tower still reminds me of when I saw the world in all its beauty and I saw what I was missing.

Sometimes we do not see what is right in front of us.

Our family moved to Jarvisfield in 1939 and we lived on a cane farm only a short distance from the school. When we left Airdmillan a neighbour, Mrs Girvan, had given me a little ginger kitten, and this started the delightful association with these great little critters that persists to this day. (Meggsie is nodding vigorously in the background).

The six years at Jarvisfield were very happy. It was a larger school than Airdmillan and many good friends were made. William Ralph (“Bill”)  Ward was the Headmaster, and he instilled much useful knowledge into us over the years. This was during the war years, and his son on leave from service in New Guinea, brought back an unwelcome visitor, malaria, and Dad, my sister Mickey and I all fell victim. Fortunately it was mild, but it certainly knocked Mum about as she had to contend with three patients with fever and the sweats in succession each day. Dad went down first and it was interesting that he had an argument with a local GP when he said that he thought it was malaria, as he had had in in first War. The doctor said that was impossible as there was no Anopheles mosquito to carry it, which later proved incorrect.

Schooling continued at Jarvisfield until grade 6 at the end of 1944 and we moved into town in 1945 and I went to Ayr High and Intermediate School.

When the Junior year was successfully completed in 1948 I was eligible to apply for a Scartwater Scholarship, which took me to Thornburgh College in Charters Towers in 1949/50, and the next rung of the ladder was achieved.

Although there was no history of pharmacists in the family, I had always wanted to be a chemist, but this seemed unlikely at this stage, when out of the blue an advertisement in the local paper inserted by the local Friendly Societies called for applications for an apprentice, and two extraordinary pieces of luck followed .. First I was fortunate to be chosen, and second my master was the manager of the Pharmacy, Joachim Alfred Charles Dlugaj, a gifted Polish pharmacist. As many had difficulty pronouncing his surname he was known universally as Alf and was very popular. 

A single man, university trained, Alf had moved to England after the War and gained registration there,  and had then moved to Australia. Why he would then decide to move to the wilds of North Queensland I do not know, but it was certainly one of the best things that ever happened for me, and I will always be thankful.

Alf spoke other languages in addition to Polish and English, including Hungarian and some French, German and Italian. During the three years of apprenticeship he was able to add considerably to the knowledge I gained from the apprenticeship papers which had to be completed  and returned for correction this being before it was a University Course. Alf later left Pharmacy and studied at Banyo to join the priesthood. He served in many areas of Queensland and died at age 86. He is buried at West End Cemetary and I go up to say g’day and thanks for all he did.

Shortly after there was another stroke of good fortune. One of my long standing friends, Graham Coutts, whose family owned a retail shopping centre in Ayr, told me that they were about to remodel the centre and wanted to include a Pharmacy in the range of outlets, and asked me to consider it. Back then, in the mid 50’s, there were no restrictions on new pharmacies as there are today, and although at first reluctant due to inexperience, persuasive argument from Graham and my wife Joan prevailed, and on Tuesday 1^st July 1958 the pharmacy opened. It was an exciting journey for 45 years, in a community where I was born, and we made many friends, both in customers and also in staff members over this time, our daughter Fiona also having joined the staff in 1980.

The local pharmacist Julie Hollingsworth also joined the staff, and on Joan’s death in 1999 I made arrangements for retirement, and Julie took over as owner on Tuesday 1^st July 2003, 45 years to the day, and now I can obtain all my medications at Julie’s Pharmacy.

It is a funny old world isn't it?

Perhaps we all need to step back and reflect on our lives and, in the words of Edith Piaf, have no regrets.

I hope that our politicians and young voters will look back and say " No, I have no regrets. "

I wonder.

 

 Here you can listen to Malcolm. I sincerely hope you do.