Saturday, May 07, 2005

A Moving Story

Big clean up of the garden shed for Mum today. Dad sure was a collector. He kept so many bits of wood to make and repair things with that the old shed was full.



We found old brass taps, soldering irons, a big ladle that Uncle Alf used for melting down lead to repair gas pipes for the Brisbane Gas company, a Carbide Lamp, bits of chicken wire all neatly rolled up and tied with a piece of string and, right down the back, was the market bag barrow.

It was the sort of solid barrow or trolley that you could wheel a bag of flour or spuds on and, of course, when we were kids, Dad used to wheel us around the back yard for a bit of fun.


Deb Barrow

It reminds me of the story of how he went to the Brisbane markets as a young boy helping his father drive the horse and cart from the shop in Auchenflower to the Roma Street markets. When Grandfather was backing the horse up to load up some vegies a couple of pigeons that had been eating spilt grain on the road flew up in front of the horse. The horse shied and reared up, throwing my Dad onto the road between the hooves of the rearing horse.

The market men in those days were well used to horses. One grabbed a bag and threw it over the horse's eyes to calm it, another grabbed the reins and a third pulled the boy out of the way. Dad lived to grow up with a love for life and for interesting pieces of wood and stones from the Oodnadatta Track and music, lots of music.

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