The Man From Fiddler’s Green
Bedtime stories of soldiers, seafarers, adventurers, of heroes and villains. The Artful Dodger – a good kid, and Fagin – just a teacher. I never wanted the highwaymen to be caught, I grew up wanting the Indians to beat the Cowboys.
Between the ages of two and three, I remember being taken to the air-raid shelter to escape possible death from the German V1 or V2 rockets which caused 30,000 civilian casualties. I remember Churchill’s voice booming defiance and encouragement to the nation on the wireless. Later I was entranced by the program Desert Island Discs and the introduction line ‘faraway places with strange-sounding names’.
Is it any wonder I grew up a dreamer, a romantic, a lover of books, good stories, poets, adventurers and stories of Australia? Some kids grew up wanting to be a train driver. I grew up wanting to be a swagman.
I followed my dreams. Better than that I found a girl to share those dreams. Trish was to become a wonderful lover, wife, mother and lifelong friend. This is her story as much as mine.
About the Author
Tinker, tailor, poor man, beggar man, thief,
Doctor, baker, fine shoe maker,
Wise man, mad man, taxman, please,
How did I know just what to be?
Good people stopped and gave advice to me.
Who told me what to do?
Will you say that I’ve been true?
Perhaps I’ve been a great success,
Or possibly a dreadful mess.
My life has been a little game.