See The Failed Earnings

Then there were the mornings it was next to impossible to get out of bed, to go out into the literally freezing cold and walk the route. Slipping on the ‘black ice’ that sometimes formed on the paths on the hills. Struggling with the weight of the papers (and remember I am not a big child) up hill and down. Eventually, the drive to deliver these papers faded like the summer sun (waxing lyrical there and a little ironic) and the paper route was discarded to others. However, looking at the earnings, they never amounted to much. With the variety of attempted jobs, the small amounts of cash rapidly disappeared with one small purchase or another. Particularly around the Christmas holiday. Trying to buy nine presents with such a small amount of cash, limited the quality and the value of any particular gift. These are the things I am trying to highlight, so you can appreciate the idea of financial value we placed on anything we personally owned.

I used to buy ‘The Phantom®’ comic with my earnings. Every fortnight. 15cents would secure me the latest adventure of this very human hero. As the small collection built up, it became a tool of my parents to use it for that third punishment form. The ‘fiscal’ punishment. If you didn’t do what was asked, or, if you disobeyed, were found to have committed a wrong act, then it was your comic collection in a flash, that would be taken away and donated to the next school fete or fair, charity or fundraising drive. This happened all too often. No sooner had I acquired two dozen or so issues, then suddenly the moment I was in the wrong, ….. gone. The idea that I had worked to buy them, they were my property, never seemed an issue. I could arrive home to find they had been taken away. If I was quick on the day of the fair I could rush to the event, locate the stall selling them and barter to buy them back. Making them cost effectively twice as much. But I still tried to collect them.

After the incident with the chocolate fish deception and the physical  punishment administered upon me by my father, a further additional penalty was imposed. My father took my bike away. He said since I couldn’t be trusted. Then my brother could have the bike. That was a pretty severe blow. My error and decision cost me the one thing that allowed a certain freedom. The bike allowed me to get out on weekends and ride elsewhere. The beach across town was often appealing, and on occasion I, and others had ridden there. Down the valley, round the one way system through town, past the Cadbury© Chocolate factory and out past the railway station. Getting away for a day. Heading down the long straight to St Claire and St Kilda beach, where the roaring, rolling surf drew you in. Eight degree temperature water in the Winter and eleven to fifteen degrees in the Summer.