Tag Archives: holidays

JIMMY JONES – WHO WAS HE?

Glad you asked. 

And I wish I could answer.

But I’ll have a go anyway.

While Jimmy (James Henry Jones) was part of my life throughout my childhood, teens and early 20s I never really knew him. I don’t think anyone did – including Jimmy himself most of the time.

But he would have been one of the biggest and most mysterious characters of all time to me. When I was younger I always just took him for granted – but now that I am older and have had a chance to reflect and reminisce on my younger life – there he is, not exactly standing proud and tall – but there, VERY much a presence.

So who was he? There are a few facts which we do know about him. He was born in New Zealand (in 1885, apparently and I do recall him proudly describing the day of his birth as being the same day that they hung Ned Kelly – but I wouldn’t swear to that) but no-one knows anything about any family or much about his early life. My late father recalled that Jimmy came to us as a ‘cowboy’ in January 1945. Apparently he was drafted into the New Zealand Expeditionary Force when the Great War broke out, but then deserted, throwing away everything but the boots which he wore for life. And I mean for life – they were the only shoes of any sort I ever saw Jim wearing.

According to my father, Jimmy moved through various employment in different states, through which he accumulated a wealth of knowledge. He was a Seventh Day Adventist or Christadelphian and claimed to be a Russian Communist – apparently, shortly after he arrived at our station, my grandmother asked if he would like anything to read. His response? ‘Do you have any Judge Rutherford tracts?’ 

I do recall clearly that Jimmy was not a talker – at all. And when he did talk, the topic could be months or years after the event had taken place. An example of this was when he was being driven home from the local town (60 k) after his annual holiday. I believe he had been enjoying a drink or two – or three – or…  The journey was the usual completely quiet event but for Jimmy suddenly announcing his opinion about a friend who had died years before. ‘Clarrie dead hey! Best place for him, the sod – no hereafter for him!’ Guess they were not best friends. On the whole, Jimmy’s entire vocabulary could be counted on one hand – two at a stretch. His main words were: ‘Woosh. Woosh’ – to this day, no-one knows what it meant but it was Jimmy’s favourite line. He did also mention the weather on the odd occasion: ‘Hot, eh?’, ‘Cold, eh?’ or whatever was relevant.

His hygiene was not the best and we always knew when he had showered or bathed, or whatever he did – about once a year. He’d come to his meal (in the main station kitchen) and simply say: ‘Water hot’. That’s all it needed. We knew. Mentioned above are his boots – I was trying to remember his general wardrobe – or lack therein. All I can remember is a very old cloth cap (similar to those that I have seen coalminers in the UK wearing in the past, in films), a deep blue or brown denim jacket and long cloth pants, kept up with a string tied around his waist. As can be imagined from this – the poor old bloke did smell – badly.

His duties on the station did diminish over the years. Milking our cows was one of them – and it was quite the vision watching him after a day in the afore-mentioned local town – particularly when he tried to walk up a rise into a westerly wind. Something like this – not quite in a straight line and often backwards – for three steps forward, he would take one back. And the cows must  have enjoyed those particular milking efforts – very light on if at all!

My father recalled one particular evening when Jimmy asked one of the other employees what time the sun went down. Upon being answered, he’d tell them there would be a corroboree about an hour later. And sure enough – around the mentioned time, spurred on by a good few alcoholic drinks, Jimmy came out of his room, dancing and singing. Quite a sight, so I have been told.

Jimmy was also an excellent writer – beautiful hand writing and excellent command of language. I believe several books were discovered under his bed after his death and these remain in safe-keeping on the station for any of his relations to claim – if they do. One of his other hobbies was absolutely unique – he made models of lyre birds and bunches of flowers and worked on perpetual motion. His tool kit consisted of pliers, tin snips and soldering iron (solder he obtained by melting it out of tins) and his material: wire and thin pieces of tin. His lyre birds and flowers were cut from tin and fashioned into the most beautiful, colourful and incredible works of art. His ‘perpetual motion’ was not so successful but did display an amazing sense of creativity and imagination – his efforts were complicated machines of arms, levers and all sorts of things – but sadly, none worked. Further evidence of his imagination was in his dart for shooting rabbits. It consisted of a short piece of number eight fencing wire, sharpened at one end and let into a tube of rolled tin. The other end of this tube had a short strand of rope inserted in it and towards the front, a form of fin. The thrower, along the lines of a ‘shanghai’ was a piece of wood held in the hand. On the top was fastened 15 cm strip of rubber (old motor tube) with a slotted piece of leather fastened to it. The fin on the dart was fitted into the slot on the leather, then drawn back as far as possible – and released. The dart would have been lethal for a long distance as the pointed wire, which such force, had good penetrating power.

Jimmy Jones (or James Henry Jones – that part we do know definitely) passed away in the mid 1970s. An amazing and unique character.

TO ANYONE WHOM MIGHT WISH TO CRITIQUE THE ABOVE FOR ANY ‘MODERN’ REASON WHATSOEVER, PLEASE BEAR IN MIND THAT THIS DID ALL OCCUR IN THE 1970s AND EARLIER.

No Looking Back – School’s Out and Life Begins (Pt IX)

Chapter Six – 1971 – 4th Year (Leaving – Second Attempt)

We were now nearing the end of my school days, thank goodness. And nothing had improved – I was still as unpopular as ever, although I was getting a bit more of an idea why this was so but still couldn’t do a jolly thing about it.

And that sense of foreboding was still there.

At some stage during 1970, the school had acquired another property. It was a house, just a bit further up the road from the main school. Certainly within walking distance still, but there were a few privately owned homes between the school and the new property. This house had been purchased for the senior boarders. I was a senior boarder. I should have been going into 5th year (matriculation, or Year 12 these days) but as I followed my own history of failing miserably at my first attempt at leaving, I was kept down to give me a chance to have a second go at it. Still failed.

Since I had been kept down with the boarders of the year below me in 1971, when I left for the summer/Christmas holidays, I do have to admit that I was worried that I might be left with those girls – which would have been fine and suited me perfectly – except that I really wanted to go up to this new boarding house. I am still not quite sure why I wanted this so badly, given that I would be in with the girls of my own year again. And I didn’t really think I wanted that.

This feeling that I did want to be in the new boarding house really gnawed at me during the holidays. So much so, that I asked my mother to call the school in late January and find out where I’d be allocated. And I was really relieved to find I was indeed in this wonderful new boarding house. I can only think that perhaps the boarding house staff had considered this carefully and decided that the girls that I just did not get along with, had gone. There would be a dozen of us in the new house and at least three were new. Irrespective of this, I am still mystified by my own feelings about it at the time.

I was allocated a bed in the largest room with four other girls. Two of them had been there throughout, the other two were new. In fact one of the older ones was that other country girl who was with me in Grade 7, but we were anything but friends. To be fair, none of these girls did or said anything nasty to me and I was comfortable in that dormitory. In fact, my final year at that school was almost pleasant.

I even befriended one of the new girls for a while. But it didn’t take her long to start disliking me so that was really the end of that friendship. One of the other new girls was really lovely, but for some reason that I will never understand, was as unpopular as I was, but it never seemed to bother her. We became quite friendly but never really close.

It was during this final year that I had a bit of time in hospital. It actually began during some school holidays. I know I was home when I suddenly developed really severe tummy pains. Mum took me into the doctor (45 minutes away) and he checked me over. But he wasn’t at all concerned about the tummy pains – probably because they had all but disappeared by then anyway. He was far more concerned at my lack of physical development. It was something I had never given any thought to even as all the girls around me were developing and I wasn’t, but it had never worried me. And his concern in turn started to worry Mum. We went home, tummy ache completely gone and I carried on as usual, not a worry in my mind, except the end of the school holidays meaning I would be returning to school, but it was my very last year and it was progressing. So – no worries – just happy.

Back to school I went. And wasn’t really much happier except that I knew that the end was in sight. The end of my six years at that school, the day I would walk out forever. It was gradually coming nearer.

One evening at dinner one of the other girls came to tell me that the senior house mistress wanted to see me. Scared out of my wits I wanted to get this out of the way as quickly as possible. Over I went and was told that I was going into hospital the next morning.

Hospital? Why? 

There was nothing wrong with me, or not that I was aware of anyway. But it seemed that the fact that I wasn’t developing was really bothering my mother. It had been organized that I was to be admitted to hospital for tests. Ok. So I was going to hospital. And I think my Godmother must have picked me up and taken me the next morning.

I cannot remember much about the next few days in hospital except being knocked out while I underwent a series of tests. I do recall waking up from that and being very sick. It was almost like that original tummy ache was coming back to haunt me. The results of the tests were all perfectly fine. There was nothing wrong with me – apparently. Sheesh – I could have told them that all along. But that wasn’t the end of it. It seemed that Mum was really worried about me. I still don’t know why – I wasn’t worried at all.

So, I was then put onto some form of tablets. Presumably hormones of some sort – and these worked. Suddenly my body woke up to itself and started sprouting everywhere. I didn’t like that. I had never worried about my lack of – whatever – but it seemed I was the only one. Thankfully, when everything started working I was taken off the tablets and it all stopped again. That suited me. It seemed to prove that my body was fine.

Or so I thought.

Apparently, I thought wrong. During the next school holidays, it was arranged that I was to have a series of injections – in my backside. Ouch! No-one asked me if I wanted this. Actually, I was not consulted about any of this at all and had I known what was going to happen, I might have just tried to put up with that little tummy ache which triggered this whole thing.

So these injections were arranged. Two a week. This was to happen during the school holidays and the owner of one of our neighbouring stations happened to be a nurse or sister at the local hospital so Mum took me over there for these injections. This lady was very good to do this as she didn’t have to. She could have told us to go into the GP or the hospital, but instead she administered them, saving us a considerable amount of driving. They took all of two seconds to administer. It took longer for me to prepare than it did to actually have them. Once the injections stopped, so did my body. I mean, it kept going – just stopped developing.

Back to school and I reckon we were getting pretty close to the end of the year. We only had two lots of holidays in those days, finishing with the long summer/Christmas holidays.

While a lot of the girls, both boarders and day bugs, were sad about leaving school, I wasn’t. I think it was the only term in the entire time I had been at that school that I was actually happy. I really was counting the days down until the very last one. And that last assembly – well, let’s just say I’d given up on expecting to receive any sort of award. It just wasn’t going to happen.

I attended an end-of-school party at the home of one of the day bugs. A girl with whom I became friends in about 2nd or 3rd year. We are still friends on a ‘vague’ level. It was a friendship that began as some do, in an odd way. I was actually friends with two other girls but after a while, it seemed I was the ‘third wheel’ and not really wanted – to their credit, father than just ignore me, they ‘offered’ me to another couple of girls. It was actually the best and nicest thing they could have done. I became very close friends with these latter two and, as mentioned, still have annual contact with one of them. The other? Well, I am not sure what happened there but we seemed to lose contact some years ago and while I did try to maintain this, it was clearly all one-sided, so I gave up.

Life can be funny. As it turns out, many years later one of the girls from the first couple mentioned above is now great friends with one from the second couple. They seem to be part of a group of four very close friends, these two and one other girl with whom I was acquainted at school, but never really friends with and yet another, who didn’t go to our school at all.

And my body did develop – all by itself, some years after I left school. I’d never been a tall person and certainly won’t be now, if anything, I think I am growing out rather than up or down.