Somethin' Fishy! John Duell's stories

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00. Home Page – eBook Title & Introduction

Separate short illustrated stories in this eBook are located by clicking on the Category (Chapter) index in the right hand column>>>>>>>

Portrait of John Duell by Julie Duell – in memorium

Julie Duell with wallaby at Waterfall Springs 2006.

In the spirit of honouring our responsibilities as caretakers of our precious Planet Earth and the miraculous myriad of life it supports, it is with great pleasure that all proceeds from sales of the print edition of “Somethin’ Fishy” have been dedicated in support of the work being carried out at Waterfall Springs Wildlife Sanctuary, Kulnura, saving endangered native Australian wallabies.

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Disclaimer: Designed to be entertaining, the stories in this eBook have been drawn from recollections of John Duell, his family and friends, later retold and illustrated by John’s wife, Julie. Any error or omission in terms of factual information or offence to any person, living or deceased, is accidental and unintended.

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41. Conclusion

As you may have gleaned from the stories herein, John did not fear death, hence his full embrace of life in terms of adventure and risk-taking. He did, however, believe that no-one should die alone and at one time climbed into a wrecked car after an accident to sit with the trapped driver until help arrived – knowing that with petrol everywhere they could go up in flames at any moment.

At the age of 61, John developed a brain tumour and was advised he had only a few months to live. During that time, by necessity, we had to move house and leave our beloved oceanfront environment.

As weeks flowed by, I watched John cover all his options in a practical sense, somehow achieving the difficult balance of living positively whilst at the same time taking in hand arrangements for his own funeral! “It’ll happen sometime Bub, so I might as well arrange it now. I don’t want any baloney and this way it’ll be easier for you.” he said, then got right back to putting up holders for all his fishing rods in our new garage and planning excursions for when he got better!

One thing I couldn’t understand at the time though, was the pressure he put on the builders to install a sensor light which seemed to be superfluous to our needs.

For eight months John battled his affliction, undergoing surgery, radiation and steroid treatment. The same people would be in the waiting room at the radiation clinic each visit and their long faces would light up when he walked in. They were ready to respond to the wide grin and customary greeting delivered in a clear, cheerful voice…“Hello there! How are all you good people today?”

One day he was very quiet and everyone crowded around me when he had gone in for treatment. “What’s wrong with John?” they wanted to know. “Well, I guess he’s a bit tired today” I replied. Then they opened up to me with stories of their terminal illnesses. “Why is John here?” they asked. “Well, he was told some time ago that his illness is terminal too and that he’ll be lucky to see Christmas” I replied. They seemed surprised and quite thoughtful after that.

One afternoon, John and I were sitting on our front porch when a small feather floated past on the breeze. Then he delivered a surprising statement. “You know Bubby, I don’t know if it will be possible to make contact with you when I pass on, but if I can, I’ll send you feathers! I mightn’t be able to move anything heavier.”

True to his use of black humour, in December, 1996 on FRIDAY 13^th John left behind his ailing body and was reborn in spirit. True to his word, along with other contacts through thought and deed, he made contact. When I was feeling low – small feathers would either float past my eyes, dance along the road in front of me or flutter madly, conspicuously stuck in some place where my eyes had to focus, (eg. stuck in the car door handle) Feathers also appeared in a number of meaningful ways to family and friends.

Oh yes … and that sensor light John pestered the builders about? It kept coming on involuntarily as soon as I would speak his name…a lovely, enthusiastic, lively response! In the midst of my grieving, I could not help but sense John’s exuberance and I rejoiced in his freedom from such a debilitating illness!

It is now many years since John transcended in 1996 and I still feel a very real and deep connection to him, even though we have each moved on into new phases of our journey. My later partner & soul-mate, Tony, thought of him a sort of brother, even though they never met. It is my fervent wish that everyone losing a loved one could experience the warm reassurance of the continuance of life after death of the physical body. Numerous people have told me they have.

I treasure the 20 years I spent with John and am deeply grateful for the love and caring that flowed so easily from this unselfish man who taught me how to fully embrace life and to truly laugh! I hope some of that essence has been shared with you through these stories and sincerely thank all who contributed to them.

In parting, I raise my glass in a toast to you, the reader,

‘John style’…………….CHEERS EVERYBODY!!! Julie Duell

40. Hospital Exploits 1980s-90s

John’s troublesome knee from his motor bike accident at age 20 forced him to undergo periodic visits to hospital and I could never quite believe how he and others like him, managed to remain so cheerful during these procedures.

I particularly recall one ward where the patient opposite John managed to fasten a large pin-up of Marilyn Monroe to the ceiling, using blue tack applied with his crutches!

Another had a plastic bladder slung up alongside the drip bag, in which he had white wine to suck on when the nurses weren’t looking.

John’s contribution of course, was yarn telling. Together they managed to keep their spirits high and the nurses always left the room smiling, though they sometimes pretended to be cross.

In John’s last year of physical life, he underwent a knee replacement and shortly afterwards, brain surgery to remove a tumour. Yet again, I marvelled at his buoyant spirit and use of black humour, joking with the nurses in Intensive Care about things such as serving him brains on toast for his first meal after brain surgery (true!) and wondering if ‘the roof might leak’ if he took a shower (meaning water entering his head wound).

On his first day out of Intensive Care, I couldn’t get near his bed for new and old friends he had organised to meet there, knowing they had much in common through interests in wildlife, fish and aquariums. It was so uplifting to hear peels of laughter and yarn telling in the usually somber neuro-ward at Royal North Shore hospital!

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39. The Shark that refused to die – 1980s

During John’s spearfishing years he occasionally brought home a shark, usually speared in self defence.

One such shark, 2 metres long, had grabbed the fish on John’s float line and taken off! Now one would think the sensible thing to do in this instance would be to cut the line and say ‘Bye bye fish!’ but not John!

Refusing to give up his gear and catch, he grabbed onto the line, allowing the shark to drag him out to sea! Finally it grew tired of dragging all this weight and John was able to spear it, thus swimming back to shore with not only the majority of his fish catch & gear, but the shark as well!

I recall the huge translucent fillets laid out on the kitchen bench; then as John plunged a knife into the flesh a strange thing happened. The whole filleted slab jumped involuntarily on the countertop!

“These bloomin’ sharks never die you know!” said John…”Just feel the weight of this” and he place a cold wet steak of it in my hand. The meat twitched violently in my grasp! My spontaneous reaction was to throw it to the other end of the kitchen, shuddering! When John’s laughter subsided, he explained that the nervous system in the shark flesh still reacts for a time to touch and especially warmth.

“Never put your hand in a dead shark’s jaws” he told me earnestly, “It can still snap them closed!” I nodded seriously, mentally adding that bit of advice to my ever growing ‘Survival List’.

Later that evening, the kids and I were all dressed up to go square dancing. Unfortunately for us, the light globe in the garage had blown and as we were feeling our way to the car, we walked slap bang into a large, smelly, soggy, dripping apparition!

Hearing our screams, John appeared with a torch…”Oh oh! Sorry! I forgot to tell you I’d hung the shark carcass there!” He played the torchlight onto an unforgettable image of a large gaping mouth with backward facing teeth attached to a livid expanse of exposed flesh!

Much shuddering and showering followed as you can image and we forgot all about square dancing that night!

John always returned to the sea anything inedible to us. ‘No waste’ was his ethic – so the following evening he sent the remains of this same shark out with the rip in a run out tide in the corner at MacMasters Beach. The plan didn’t quite work! It decided to come back in the next day, riding the waves, in among the surfers!

Panic reigned supreme at the Surf Club and shark alarms were sounded, until they realised that the ‘monster’ was indeed deceased!

38. Artistic Endeavours – 1980s

Harking back to the bonfire episode, it seemed John couldn’t escape the flames at home either! In a period I dubbed ‘Gone Potty’ I had taken on ceramic sculpture & pottery. As with everything I undertook, John supported my new passion wholeheartedly even if he did keep coming up with clay designs for me to try that kept exploding in the gas kiln (and we won’t mention all those custom-built ‘gozunders’ he wanted me to make). In case you haven’t heard the term, that’s another name for chamber pots – they ‘gozunder’ the bed!

One incident almost required the fire brigade when a flammable sculpture support sent flames and plumes of black smoke out of the kiln shed flue for a good half hour! In retrospect, we apologised profusely to the ozone layer.

John also went to great lengths to research native flora and fauna in support of my Children’s books on Australian Bush Sprites – locating and photographing specimens for me to illustrate to the best of my ability. Many of these we studied in rainforests near the Allyn River – Barrington National Park. As you can see, John really got into the spirit of it by modelling for “Old Man Lichen”. I stuck the lichen onto him with honey and he urged me to take the picture quickly as things were beginning to crawl into his ears. I snapped this shot before he ran into the creek to wash it all off!

37. John the Youth Worker – the Great Emu Venture! 1980s

A fellow Youth Worker of Johns was of aboriginal descent and a magnificent carver of emu eggs. Watching his skilled hands at work, John got the bright idea that it could be something special that could be taught to the Aboriginal boys at the School…if only they had a source of eggs!

It wasn’t long before John gained permission to enclose a suitable area to house a pair of emus he had lined up to collect from a Wildlife Park.

No doubt they should have had a tranquilliser gun – because many hours overdue, the emu catchers arrived back exhausted, with only one bedraggled looking emu on board! You can imagine the chase!

Putting the poor bird into the very high wire enclosure, they were astounded to see it jump over effortlessly to freedom!

Over the next few days, complaints flooded in from all over the School. ‘Duell’s flamin’ emu’ had managed to frighten the disabled children’s riding ponies, put all the prize cows off their milk and was seen to snatch a sandwich from the hands of the School’s startled hospital matron.

To make matters worse, the School’s Dairy Officer broke his toe on a hard cowpat whilst chasing the emu from his cows and was most annoyed.

Not able to take out his frustration on the illusive emu, he decided to eliminate hard cowpats from the paddock by feeding the cows molasses which gave them permanent diarrhoea! John reckoned they ‘sprayed the clouds with sunshine!’ for weeks!

Sadly, this was the end of John’s emu egg-carving dream.

The emu? It was last seen heading for the open bush, relishing its newfound freedom!

36. John the Youth Worker – A Cracker of a Night! 1980s

Queen’s Birthday weekend in Australia until approaching 1990 was always celebrated as ‘Cracker Night’ with families letting off fireworks around bonfires built on a bit of vacant land in just about every street!

In those days it was legal to buy fireworks and every bit of kids’ pocket money would be carefully spent, savouring the possibilities of mysterious cylinders of cardboard labelled with magical pictures such as Mount Vesuvius erupting or Catherine wheels spinning.

Boys, of course, were attracted to sky rockets and the loudest bungers – whilst girls mostly went for the prettiest and most colourful, maybe venturing to hold sparklers or the tiniest of the bungers, called ‘Tom Thumbs’.

For the adults, it was a chance to legally burn all forms of rubbish, from deadwood to mattresses. There was usually an unofficial neighbourhood competition to see who could build the biggest bonfire. With increasingly populated areas, this activity was curbed and channeled into just one large ‘legal’ bonfire in each community. Later still, with awareness of global warming, bonfires have been pretty much phased out, replaced by community firework displays only.

In the days of the BIG Community bonfires, John was often selected to build them on behalf of the Boys’ School where he was a Youth Worker.

One particular year, feeling that bonfire efforts in previous years had been ‘a bit tame’, he harnessed the boys’ enthusiastic energies to concoct a truly mammoth pile of wood, mattresses, tyres, old furniture etc! When finished, it reached the height of a 2 storey building and I think the most part of a demolished house was in it!

Word soon got around and kids from all over the district pestered their parents to take them to the ‘Big Bonfire’ on the mountain!

The frosty winters night finally arrived and literally hundreds of people assembled, huddled in coats and blankets behind the area John had wisely cordoned off. Due to the arrival of some VIPs, John was given instructions by the Boss to light the bonfire ‘at precisely 6 pm’.

John sent one of his trusted boys to mix some lighter fuel, consisting of 1 part petrol to 2 parts diesel.

“5 minutes to 6! Where is that boy? Aaah – there he is! Good reliable lad that!” The boy was trundling over the rough ground towards John, with a kerosene tin balanced neatly in a wheelbarrow.

John and the boy disappeared into the tunnel leading to the centre of the bonfire, sluicing the fuel around carefully, but liberally.

Looking at each other with a big toothy grin, John announced “That should do it mate! Let’s get out of here!”

Upon leaving the tunnel, he turned back and threw in a wad of lit rag, expecting it to quietly ignite the kindling in the middle. Instead……..

‘BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!”

John and the boy were catapulted through the air! Landing in a dazed state, John ventured to ask … “You OK son?” “Yeah, I think so, sir!” was the shaky reply. “What the hell ratio did you make that lighter fluid, son?” “Just like you told me Sir, 2 of petrol and 1 of diesel”

That explained it! He had the ratios the wrong way around!!!

They seemed OK except for scorched overalls! John stood up unsteadily, ears ringing, feeling his singed eyebrows!

Quickly he checked the stunned crowd behind the cordoned off area. There appeared to be no casualties (although one couldn’t vouch for their eardrums!) Looking up to the dais, he could see the Boss with his VIP visitors standing stock still, dumbfounded at this massive Bonfire which somehow, magically, was instantly alight from top to bottom!

Keen to save face, John pulled himself up to his full height and marched up to them. “There you are, Sir, she’s alight! Right on 6 o’clock as you requested!”

We found out later that windows had been shattered in homes a kilometre away! Whew!!! WHAT A CRACKER NIGHT!!!

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This wasn’t the only episode in John’s life during these years that had to do with fire and explosions. On one occasion, in his capacity as Fire Captain of a Bushfire Brigade, an unexpected wind change turned a severe fire back onto John’s unit – an old army Blitz truck unable to outpace it.

Calling for his crew to brace themselves, he drove full pelt into the flames – ‘gunning it’ through the fire until they emerged, relatively unscathed, on the other side!

35. John the Youth Worker – Abseiling Adventures – 1980s

Part of the bushcraft skills John taught the boys in his care involved abseiling down rocky escarpments. One excellent location was a sheer rock face overhanging a deep pool in Kangaroo Valley. John began to plan his mischief. His aim was to inject a new element of surprise and excitement into the activity – a challenge, because these boys were fairly experienced abseilers and considered themselves ‘pretty tough!’

First, he dived and explored the pool carefully for any branches, logs or rocks and gave it the ‘all clear’. Then, from the top of the rocky cliff, he measured the length of the drop by lowering a rope and pulling it up to note the wetness. It only just reached the water. Next, John insidiously shortened the rope by 5 metres!

The big day arrived. John and a fellow Youth Worker led the boys via a lengthy hike to the location. A sturdy tree was chosen as an anchor point for the rope and all the usual careful instructions given. The boys were lined up in readiness, the toughest of them placed last in the queue.

John charged them with confidence in his usual fashion. “I’ll never ask you to do anything I won’t do myself” he said “and just to prove it, I’ll go first!” then he added “Oh yes, I’ve been told there are some campers down below, so if you hear any commotion, it will be them.”

John moved off confidently, bouncing off the rock face with his legs as he controlled his descent with the special buckle on his belt. It was impossible to see where he had landed from the takeoff point, due to overhanging rocks. Hearing his whistle after a couple of minutes, they assumed ‘Mr. Duell’ had reached solid ground! In truth, John had dropped quietly into the water from the shortened rope!

With plenty of urging by the others, the first boy walked gingerly backwards over the edge. His descent went well at first, then suddenly he ran out of rocks to bounce off with his feet. Looking down, all he could see was water!

Swinging in mid air, he began to slowly lower himself by loosening his buckle. Suddenly something unbelievable happened….THERE WAS NO MORE ROPE!

His heart must have skipped a beat or two as he felt himself free-falling for 5 metres before being plunged into the cold mountain water with a yell!

The next thing he saw was John’s big, reassuring hand outstretched towards him backed by a mischievous face bearing a big grin!

Not wanting to be the only victim, it was easy for John to encourage him to be quiet, so sitting on the bank shaking from cold and shock, the poor lad soon forgot about his own trauma and became keenly interested in watching the effect this trick had on his mates!

The line of brave abseilers progressed. Results were identical with each – the sudden surprise of finding themselves dangling in thin air, then facing the inevitability of descending into water… and finally, the anguished cry as the rope ran out, releasing them to fall into the icy pool.

Assembled, dripping, on the bank, the boys especially relished watching the ‘tough guys’ who were last to descend.

Their bloodcurdling cries were just as loud and luckily for John, everyone would see the funny side of the whole episode as it was related around the campfire that evening!

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34. John the Youth Worker – Bunyips & Bull Ants! 1980s

Stories around the campfire at night can easily get out of hand as yarns become more and more exaggerated! John encouraged this natural tendency as a means of preventing the boys in his charge from absconding from bush camps.

Sometimes he would be aided and abetted by his son, Adrian, who would pay a late night visit to the camp unannounced (except to John, via their language of bird calls).

Draped in an old blanket submersed in the creek, Adrian would prepare to play Bunyip!

Having achieved a fair level of spookiness through yarn telling at the campfire, John would select a mischief-maker in the group and ask him to fill the billy down at the creek.

“Watch out for Bunyips, son!” he would say, handing him the billy-can with a smirk. “Oh sure, sir!!” would be the sarcastic reply, the boy swaggering jauntily down to the creek edge.

Then just as planned, as he stooped down to fill the billy, Adrian would jump up with a bloodcurdling yell! Falling over backwards, the recipient of the joke would sometimes have to be revived – being white as a sheet and close to fainting!

Then, casting off the dripping blanket, Adrian would step up and shake everyone’s hand, introducing himself as John’s son. A good laugh would be had by all …even the victim of the practical joke… once he had recovered!

By now all the boys would be revved up with adrenaline and it was the task of the Youth Worker in charge to somehow get them sleepy enough to retire for the night.

Using reverse psychology, John didn’t impose a curfew. Instead, he allowed them to play ‘spotlight’ with their torches as long as they wanted, PROVIDED they had their supper first!

Now ‘supper’ consisted of one of John’s dampers – a deceptively light, fluffy type of scone mix with plenty of raisins thrown in. Cooked in his mother’s old camp oven on the open fire, it tasted delicious – especially lashed with plenty of ‘Cocky’s Joy’ (golden syrup). The boys were in heaven! Not only could they stay up as long as they wished out here on this bush camp, but they could eat all they wanted of this delicious damper!

Soaking up all the compliments relating to his abilities as Chef, John encouraged them to back up for second or even third helpings! What he knew was that this damper, so light and fluffy when hot, would set like cement in their stomachs as it cooled!

It wasn’t long before boys were crawling into their sleeping bags, no longer keen to race around in the moonlight playing ‘spotlight!…So ‘Mr. Duell’ got a good night’s sleep after all – swinging gently in his hammock to the sounds of the sea.

On the final hike home from an overnight Bouddi Camp, John would occasionally knock the top of a bull ant nest and halt the single file he was leading, so that any problem boy was pretty sure to get a bite or two! Howling and jumping around, the stung culprit would come to John for sympathy and treatment. Knowing the stings were painful but harmless, John would say “Oh come on, son! They aren’t that bad!” Then he would disturb the nest of a similar looking, even larger type of ant nearby. Stooping down, he would allow them to swarm up his bare arm, knowing that whilst they give a physical bite, there is no stinging acid injected from this type! The boys would be in awe, thinking….‘Wow! Mr. Duell sure is tough!’ (Yes, & more than a tad devious too!)

33. John the Youth Worker – saltwater tea & Vampire Bats! 1980s

John’s occupation for 28 years was that of Youth Worker, helping to rehabilitate wayward teenage lads. His attempts at diverting their energies into harmless personal challenges and adventures, commencing with the ‘Duke of Edinburgh Awards’, resulted in some highly unusual and sometimes hilarious episodes.

‘Mr. Duell’s Bush Camps’ became legendary, and most boys would strive to earn the privilege of sampling this unique kind of excitement, new to most of them. Camps were modified over the years, but one early survival camp involved John being dropped off with eight boys for three days at a beach with a fresh water creek nearby. All they had were the clothes they stood up in, a box of matches and one knife between them.

After scavenging what they could, they proceeded to collect edible shellfish and stinging nettles for ‘greens’. These they cooked in tin cans washed up on the beach. John asked a boy to boil water for some sort of tea made from native vegetation, only to find it very salty! The boy, having grown up inland, naturally did not know the sea was salty and used salt water rather than fresh creek water to make the tea.

The boys were then urged to choose one of the many caves in the area for sleeping, preparing it with a ‘mattress’ of soft wallaby grass. All but two of them complied – these two preferring to sleep on the sand. In the early hours of the morning a strong southerly wind brought heavy rain with it and John, curled up snugly in his north facing cave, could hear strange scraping sounds in the night. First light showed the two ‘beach boys’ shivering and wet under a rusty old sheet of corrugated iron they had dragged out of the bush to use as a ‘blanket’ type shelter. The following night they were sure to cosy up their cave, having learned a valuable lesson about bushcraft and the elements.

Other camps involved the more orthodox use of tents and sleeping bags, with abundant food provided. Scorning tents himself, John used his trusty home-made hammock invention with waterproof fly over. This, placed in an elevated position, gave him far better means for supervision!

Knowing the boys would no doubt be after revenge during the night, sure to blame ‘Mr. Duell’ for the creepy crawlies they found in their sleeping bags, (would he do such a thing?) John would always sling his hammock in a good thick patch of stinging nettles or similar deterrent! Facing the challenge of giving these camps an injection of excitement, John often chose the old backyard of his youth, Bouddi National Park, which he knew intimately. There he could show the boys Aboriginal rock carvings with great reverence and introduce them to wildlife in fascinating ways.

In one area of Bouddi there lies a deep cave the size of a railway tunnel. Accessible only at low tide from the open ocean, it turns at right-angles some distance in, creating a small beach which never sees daylight.

This tiny beach became a time capsule of man-made flotsam. John noted that it showed layers going back to the days before plastics,where only rubber, glass, cork and metal & timber objects had floated in.

At one stage there was even an old spiked World War II mine trapped and rusting away in there!

John decided to use this cave to create some adventure for the boys. First there was the excitement of timing their swim across an ocean gutter between waves, to reach the cave entrance. John would go first, slinging a rope across for them to hold on to.

Next, like intrepid explorers, they would comb the boulder covered floor of the cave by available daylight, searching for anything of interest.

Then they came to the smaller cave, in complete darkness at right angles to the main one. John would produce his one and only torch and urge them to follow him. After some hesitation, the boys, after egging each other on to take the dare, would follow their ‘Pied Piper’, putting trust in this man who in some cases had become a father figure to them. When John could reach back and touch the last boy in the line, he knew they were ripe for his next trick.

‘There’s no need to be afraid, boys, but I have heard there are Vampire Bats in this cave! You don’t have to worry though – they won’t come near the torchlight! (Actually, there were bats, but not of the vampire variety!)

Sighting a big heap of dry spiky seaweed ahead, John would stoop down to pick it up, at the same time putting the torch out with the exclamation ‘Oh damn! The flamin’ torch is playing up!’ With that, he would hurl the seaweed over his shoulders, high up above them.

With imaginations fired up about blood-sucking Bats, and suddenly plunged into complete darkness, the spiky seaweed falling across their heads and shoulders caused sheer havoc! Screams and yells echoed through the cave as boys ricocheted off the walls, fighting off the terrible ‘bats’ that were ‘attacking’ them! Content that the boys now had something exciting to relate to the others back at the School, John would ‘magically’ repair the torch and with some measure of bravado and order restored, lead them to explore the items among the driftwood in the hidden beach!

32. A Night in Nundle 1979

It was a bitterly cold, clear, still mid-winter night. John and I were gathering plenty of bone dry deadwood for our campfire. We’d chosen a relatively level site high in the Nundle hills for our first night away – on a private property, with permission of the Warden family.

The full moon gradually added light to an infinite starry sky set in what looked like black velvet! I shivered uncontrollably, both from the penetrating cold and sheer exhilaration at the sight of it.

Finally we could just make out the silhouette of the old Toyota van – our shelter for the night. John pointed out a tiny sprinkle of yellow lights far below us – indicating the lights of Tamworth.

Not one to do anything by halves, John soon had a 2 metre high campfire blazing and sending showers of sparks up into the blackness. Tucking into a welcome hot stew, it was quite some time before we could sit anywhere close to it!

Every sound seemed accentuated in the stillness. Two large spouted billies added spirited spitting and bubbling to the crackling of the logs and every now and then trapped sap would hiss it’s steamy escape from one of the logs! (You can see how this environment enhances one’s poetic side!)

Now John and I had a habit in common which we both very much appreciated –we never went to bed without first washing ourselves all over! This was easy enough in the comfort zones of home, but in a rough winter camping situation, most sensible folk wouldn’t bother. Still, old habits die hard and we both felt we’d sleep better after a nice hot all-over wash!

Being the chivalrous type, John insisted on ‘Ladies First!’ as he prepared the enamel dish of hot water! Bravely, I stripped off and proceeded to perform a delicate pirouette in the small bowl, one side of me freezing and the other steaming as I sponged myself down.

I’d just about completed this strange ritual when I had the definite sensation I was being watched by someone out there in the darkness – though considering our remote location behind locked gates, this would be almost impossible!

I told John what I was sensing. Without hesitation, he threw an armful of leaves onto the fire, sending up a burst of embers, so that we could see!

Beyond the blaze of light, we peered out into the blackness and were greeted by an amazing sight! A ring of curious kangaroos had assembled to study my antics with obvious fascination!

These were no doubt the same roos we had been trying to get close to earlier! I decided that this was as close as I wanted to be! Breaking all records, I climbed into my tracksuit, to the sound of uproarious laughter from John!

Later that night, we were laying quietly in the old Toyota – unable to have a light on because of dozens of huge moths descending on us through the open windows. We both heard growling noises. “Was that your stomach!?” we asked each other simultaneously, instinctively whispering as one does in a very quiet environment. Laughingly, we each denied it was our digestive juices at work. The growling became louder!

Peaking out, we shone our torch to reveal dingoes busily licking ‘clean’ our dinner plates –left on the ground to deal with in the morning! Well that helped a bit with the washing up!!

Just as it was on land, the family tradition of practical jokes apparently carried on beneath the surface of the water. The next illustration shows Adrian, pretending to ‘drive’ the wreck of an old Ute at Nambucca Heads, while John no doubt was vowing to invent a grin-proof mask that would not fill up with water when the wearer laughs!