And So The Journey Begins

By Neil Milliner

"Books are the plane, and the train, and the road. They are the destination and the journey. They are home." —Anna Quindlen

"There is nothing more luxurious than eating while you read—unless it be reading while you eat." – E. Nesbit

Are you looking for a quick read? Or something that will surely brighten up your day? Then read on.

Find out about:

• Why I Was Swimming In The Sump Oil

• Why Was The Cow In The Kitchen?

• How I Came To Be Sitting Next To The Tribesman & The Stone Axe

• The Day A Russian Pulls Knife On Me

• When I Watched When A Guy Drinks Himself Sober

• How Our Pup On The Highway Got His Name

These and many, many more exciting dramas from my life. All here in one amazing book.

 

If you want to add some excitement to your life then scroll up and click the "Add to Cart button" to get your very own ebook instantly

• Language: English
• Publisher: Neil Milliner
• Release date: Jun 3, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393117698

Book preview

Swimming In The Sump Oil

WELL, HERE WE ARE IN this tiny little town called Richmond in central North Queensland, Australia. Located halfway along the railway line between Townsville and Mt Isa it serviced the nearby cattle stations mainly plus all the folk driving through.

I am about 4 years old, ready for some fabulous adventures and it is as hot as hell.

It was a bugger because not only was the towns swimming pool right next door to our house but there was even a little gate in our side fence where we could go in at any time. The wading pool was near that gate then past that there was the main pool. The big pool was too scary for my little sister and I as we couldn’t swim, but my older sister used to try out the shallow end of the grown ups pool.

One day there was one of those parties at the swimming pool. You remember back in the sixties when swinging became a thing? Yup, it was a drunken orgy, right next door to us!

Anyhow the next day after the party before they sobered up and cleaned up the mess we all went over for a quick dip. My sister sliced her foot open on a broken beer bottle and when mum found out we were over there we were banned from ever going there again!

We begged and pleaded, argued and threw tantrums but we still couldn’t go. No amount of pleading could change their minds. There was no way us children were going into that den of iniquity.

Well, nobody was going to stop me from swimming. I had to cool off somewhere. My two sisters and I played under the hose for a bit but that got boring.

That little wading pool right next to the fence looked awful nice on a stinking hot day like today. What would happen if I just sneaked in for a little bit while no one was looking? There was still some broken glass around but I reckoned I could avoid that. I asked my sister to come with me for a quick swim but she wasn’t going to disobey our parents and get into big trouble.

But, alas the gate was tied shut. Dad had foreseen my devilish plans and my dreams of a splash were dashed in a flash. There was no other way in to the pool complex except through the front door where the kiosk and changing rooms were and you needed money to get in that way. Besides the managers would most likely tell our parents we were over there. So, pool was struck off the list of possibilities.

Our house was the last house on the edge of town because in our backyard on the other side of where the council pool was is where the towns powerhouse was. Dad was overseer and engine driver plus the towns electrician. Back in the day each town had their own electricity generation plant. We all call them powerhouses and they were phased out when the electricity grid system was set up. Dad loved working on the engines so I spent half my life living next door to a powerhouse.

Anyhow on this fateful day I was looking around the powerhouse for something. I can’t remember what because I had given up on the swimming idea for now. I had already scoped out the cooling towers. These were there instead of the normal engine radiators we all know. They had a nice little half tank you could play in that wasn’t too deep. The water was pumped up to the top and the evaporation effect would cool down the steaming hot water so it could cool the engine down again. Each engine had its own cooling tower. But, alas they still to hot to swim in. I was looking to cool down not get any hotter. So that plan was foiled too.

I was wandering around the doorway trying to talk to one of the engine drivers when I spotted the concrete sumps. Sometimes if the drivers weren’t busy they would stop for a quick chat otherwise they would just chase you off.

Now, these sumps were made of concrete. When you changed the oil in the engines the old oil ran out a concrete drain underneath the engine and into these small square tanks. You then pumped the old oil out into drums for disposal.

There was a sump for every engine and there was one with the oil still in it! So I got a stick and measured it to see how deep it went. The other empty ones weren’t that deep but I had better check just in case. They would never find me under a layer of dirty old sump oil.

I measured it against myself. It was not too deep either! About the top of my shoulders I estimated. And it was cold too. I had found my very own swimming pool!

I waited till the driver went for lunch or a cup of tea or something like he always did eventually. OK, all there was left now was to strip off my clothes and voila! My very own wading pool.

So here I am up to my neck in thick black engine oil having the time of my life when my sister comes over to see what was going on. I invited her in for a swim too but she wouldn’t be in on it. So she ran in and told mum.

Have you ever seen your mother so mad she can’t even speak?

Playing With The Wild Goats

WHEN I WAS A TODDLER we were living on the outskirts of this little town next door to the powerhouse. Actually it was in the same yard as our house. Guess it was a pretty good generator set eh?

Every now and then there was a herd of wild goats that came into our yard and eat everything. Yes I did say everything. They used to knock the rubbish bins over looking for scraps to eat. I even seen them eat tin cans. I don’t know how it didn’t kill them.

Anyhow one day they were all in our yard eating the rubbish out of our bin that I went out to see if I could pet them and play with them. They weren’t too worried about me after a little while. I did get to pat one or two that weren’t too skittish.

But mum heard the noise of the metal rubbish bins being nudged and kicked around the front yard and came out to see what all the commotion was all about.

Here was her child in the middle of a feral goat pack! Maybe twenty or thirty of them? You know, all hooves and horns and biting things. She panics runs out to dads new car parked in the driveway and screams for me to get into the car with her and slams the door shut. She blows the horn but that wasn’t scaring them away. She gets out the door on the opposite side of the goats to go off to ring dad to come home get rid of the pesky things out of the yard.

The only problem with this is that the windows of the car were wound down because of the extreme heat and so some of the goats decided to jump in to the car with me. Mum races out and drags me through the window and back safe inside the house. I never felt I was unsafe in the first place and could not fathom her reaction.

Now, the seat of the car was a bench seat and it was stuffed with coconut fiber covered in vinyl. So the goats started eating that. And the steering wheel. And the knobs on the radio and the controls.

Dads brand new car.

A Firetruck In Our Backyard

When I was maybe 5 I had a real firetruck in our yard to play on.

At the time we lived in a house in a tiny town called Bollon. It was owned by the electricity board and was located right next to the powerhouse that dad was in charge of. The powerhouse was on the other side of our driveway.

Part of dads duties was being volunteer fireman and he was placed in charge of the towns only fire engine. And that fire engine was parked out the back of the powerhouse near to the telephone.

This firetruck was one of those really old crank the handle to start ones and it came with a brass bell, a wooden ladder on top and this super cool shiny brass helmet that was always left sitting on the drivers seat in case of an emergency call out.

I loved sitting behind the big wooden steering wheel pretending I was off to fight fires and rescue people from burning buildings andsave the day. The wooden ladder could be used for a climbing frame but I was only little and it was too big a climb to get into the back. If you stood on the seat you could reach it. But that wasn’t the interesting part. The best part was trying on the helmet and sitting behind the steering wheel racing down the road ringing the firebell off to be the hero.

But this darn helmet was so heavy I couldn’t hardly lift it. I was only a toddler remember? I’d only just learned to walk. After a half dozen times I of struggling I did manage to get it on my head but then I started tipping over sideways!

You never got a good long play on it because dad could always see out the back door of the powerhouse and would come over and chase me off. Telling me never to get on it again. It was not a toy. Right, my very own firetruck and I’m not going to play on it?

It was only used the once in the year or so we lived there.

Dad gets a phone call from the grocer. The grocer was the fire chief and he rings dad first to get the engine started. Then he rings everybody else up and dad goes around town picking up all the crew.

Like I said Dad had to start the thing with a crank handle, get into his helmet etc and drive around town to pick up the rest of the crew.