Walking to primary school in the 1960s the 2 or so kilometres from home to the school. Sometimes in 5th and 6th class riding my black Malvern Star bicycle that Dad had purchased second hand and done up. On the way to school we passed through the grounds of McCall's Bakery. Keith McCall was in my class and more often than not we would grab one of the discarded bread rolls from a pile near the door to munch on the way to class. When it was Keith's birthday or another significant celebration, his father used to bake a large loaf of bread shaped like a crocodile for the whole class to enjoy. I always loved that.
And in the 60s no school would be complete without the daily delivery of those 1/3 pint bottles of milk that we were forced to consume at recess. They sat in the playground until around 11am, often in the sun where they rapidly started to go off. I was never a big fan of plain milk to start with but used to hold my nose and drink it all down in one go until one day I got a bottle that was really off and I almost threw up just by smelling it. That was it for me, from that day on I refused to drink the school milk much to the consternation of the teacher and my parents. This milk phobia has stayed with me ever since and even today I will not drink plain milk, however, add a couple of spoons of chocolate flavouring or coffee and - yum yum.
Of course primary school in those days was vastly different to today. We did our maths with pounds shillings and pence and had ink wells with a dip-as-you-go pen to write with once you graduated from the lower grades where all you got was a pencil. Everyone used to get blue fingers from the ink. I remember it was someone's job to go around to all the desks in the mornings to fill the ink wells.
My 4th class teacher was very unusual for that time (1963). He was from Borneo and wore a turban and his name was Mr Gora Singh Mann. Mr Mann for short and he arranged all us pupils in a particular order in the class room and gave us numbers instead of calling us by our names. I suppose that was so that he could get used to who we were if we stayed in the same spot. I was number 13 - lol. A funny thing but I saw him again in the early 1980s when I was at a market at Kirribilli, still wearing the turban and not looking a lot older. I said hello and he remembered his time at Glenbrook Primary School but not me specifically. Oh well.
My 5th and 6th class teacher was a middle aged, jovial fellow called Mr Fitzsimmons. He played piano and as there was a piano in our class room, most mornings he would come in and play a tune and we would all sing along to Heart of my Hearts or something like that. I clearly remember one morning he walked into the darkened classroom and asked all of us to raise our hands. He then switched the light on and said "many hands make light work" - *groan* - but it was funny at the time.
The playground was quite large and had an enormous grassy area at the rear that butted onto the back yards of several homes. There were 2 large persimmon trees there and I used to eat the fruit when it was ripe enough. Someone would climb the tree and pass down the fruit. I have not eaten Persimmons since, funny that.
I always enjoyed the annual school fete and Mum would give me 2 shillings so that I could have some fun. My favourite game of chance was hoop-la and I won a few small prizes over the years. Mum would make toffees and coconut ice to sell at the cake stall. Toffees were 1 penny. There was also a stall that sold Indonesian food. It was run by Mrs Van Gent who I suspect, looking back, must have spent some time in Indonesia. She made this wonderful beef curry with toasted coconut on top. Sucn an exotic dish for the 1960s. It was served in small round containers like you used to buy icecream in. Delicious.
About 6 weeks before the end of term in 1963 I broke my right arm so I got an early school holiday break and went to stay with my grandparents at Narrabeen. Mum had her hands full with my 2 brothers and 1 sister so didn't need me hanging around to make extra trouble. I had a wonderful time at Nana and Pa's being thoroughly spoiled.
We did not get a TV until 1966 so on Sunday evening we used to go across to the neighbours house and ask if it was OK to watch Disneyland and McHale's Navy with their kids. That was a real treat for us. Oh there were so many things that I loved about growing up in the 1960s. Now that I have started I had better continue before the old brain goes mushy and I forget.
Until next time, take care and keep well.
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