Ian Granland 

A STORY OF LIFE'S ADVENTURES

In 1963 I had put my name down for the Under 15 cricket team and because the side didn't have a full complement, I gained a place.

I liked the game but didn't have enough experience, well talent really to play at a competitive level even though I practiced day after day bowling down the driveway at home to an imaginary Alan Davidson who was missing my every delivery.  "Zzattt..."  I would shout but I think he remained not out during each of my many overs.

I have no doubt the people next door must have been driven crazy by the consistent "kerr-bang, kerr-bang" as the ball bounced from the concrete and on to the garage door.  Though they never really said.

We played against schools in our zone, one being Vaucluse Boys High in New South Head Road, adjacent to the small Vaucluse Shopping Centre. To get there we had to catch a Circular Quay bus from outside the school in Anzac Parade to Park Street in the city then change buses for one bound to Watsons Bay.

We piled onto the bus, eleven kids and a teacher from the science department, Mr Thornton.

For some reason and I think it had to do with perving on the prostitutes who worked in and around the East Sydney District, we alighted in Liverpool instead of Elizabeth and walked down the notorious Crown Street with all its lanes and alleys off to the side, to William Street. We all laughed as we trotted down this red light area full of mirth and smart comments to these working girls. You can imagine the comments we made to them as we passed by them only to receive very brusque replies with language many of us hadn't even heard before. A teenager or anyone for that fact can gain no better strength than in numbers in a situation like that and besides, we were kids. Mr Thorton though played a straight bat.

We all had to carry part of the cricket kit. Some had pads, some gloves, some stumps and some bats etc. and all in full school uniform.

There weren't as many traffic lights in Williams Street then, so we skipped across the road to a tune of honking horns and indignant remarks from the drivers.  We waited for our bus right next to an old chemist shop and it was there, then that George Elliott was apparently accosted by someone he described as a "poofter".  (I had since driven past the spot several times over the years and alway recalled the incident in my head)   George took no prisoners and in quite a brazen act for a 14 year old, wacked the guy attacker over the head with his cricket bat. I was standing quite close to George, although talking to someone else and it was the sound of 'bat on head' which caused me spin around only to see George laying into this man.

Seeing this, Mr Thornton ran to break up which was really a very brief melee and managed to get the alleged assailant on his way amid threats of suing the school and all sorts of violence to us.  We in return followed up with a mouthful of insults which would have made the girls up the road blush, in true Matto style, whilst George, a little flustered from is experience became an instant hero.  Of course the tale became a school legend for many weeks if not months after that amongst the likes of us who never let an opportunity pass to flower the scuffle up into a major incident, one well worth of reporting to the police OR the newspapers - which of course, we didn't.

GETTING TO THE BASKETBALL MATCH

In the summer of 1962 or early '63 I was playing basketball for the school and like the cricket, we played against schools in our zone.

Remarkably enough for the quality of this story, on this particular occasion we were again pitted against Vaucluse Boys High.

Sports days were Wednesday Afternoons and it was a fair travel from Matto to Vaucluse.

We only just had enough players on this particular occasion and had organised ourselves the day before and during recess. (We always called it recess or playtime)  The team had to catch a particular bus in order to get to the game at the prescribed starting time. I don't think a teacher accompanied us on this journey. He probably nicked off the races at Randwick.

For one reason or another both Norman Tse and myself missed the bus. We were stranded. The next bus offered us no consolation because it was an hour away and we would never had made the game on time, what with the change at Park Street etc.

Both Norman and us felt so compromised. We didn't want to let our team mates down and need to win this one in order to stay on top of the table, ahead of our nemesis, Maroubra Bay High School.

Norman, who seemed much older than the rest of us (we all reckoned he was 17) and spoke poor English but, I might add did exceptionally well at school, particularly in the maths and manual arts subjects, suggested we catch a taxi.

I looked at him and shook my head. "You have got to be kidding" I said to Norman, who by the way went on to own several successful chinese restaurants.

"I've got 3/6". Enough for my lunch and bus fare to and from. As you well know, in those days mum cut your lunch and you only bought it of a Monday when the bread was stale. And for that she would allow 2/-, maybe you could get a bottle of green G I  as well if you were frugal enough, and thats if you were lucky.

I can always remember buying packets of Twisties at school (they weren't allowed to sell Smiths Chips) at the school canteen and on bringing them back to the group of my friends who would all say mockingly, "bags some, bags some" only to be left with a few broken ones at the bottom. I soon learnt that the trick was was to hold the bottom of the bag in your palm, making sure that it contained the majority of the Twisties whilst your mates scrounged to get no result.

Maybe a few cobbers and freckles were better value.

"I pay" Norman said. Who's arguing I thought and the both of us walked to the bus stop in Anzac Parade just outside the school and it wasn't long before a 1961 FC Holden Special Delux Cab, the red and black ones, came whaling up the road. Norman hailed him down and we both piled in.

"Where to"? He enquired laconicly, "Dover Heights Boys High School" I replied with an air of triumph in my voice. You see whilst Norman was happy for me to do the talking, I had never hailed a cab like that before, if at all, let alone call the shots.

"Yous got money?" the cabby questioned wearily. "He has," as I pointed to my fine Asian friend sitting beside me. The driver hit the meter, 1/3 flag fall and 1/6 a mile.

Well off we went, along north along Anzac Pde through the Junction, turning up Avoca Street at North Maroubra, into Randwick and eventually to Vaucluse.

"That'll be 30 bob" the driver said as he swung his head around the seat to me. Norman pulled out his wallet and produced a lovely crisp blue five pound note which he handed over.

In the meantime we had beaten our team mates to the venue and were sitting leaning against their handball wall, changed and all set to go drinking a chocolate milk, again courtesy of Norman Tse, when they arrived.

"How the heck did you get here, we thought yous weren't coming?" was their delighted reaction when they saw us. They had realised that we had missed the bus and were looking down the barrel at a forfeit.

I told them the story, which I don't really think they believed and we went on to play the game, which we won and then caught a bus home.

 FUN? IN ASSEMBLY

In 1962 general assembly was held for the whole school during the fourth period of a Thursday in the auditorium.

There is or was a platform above the stage part of which housed the unit controlling lighting throughout the hall.

Somehow I nominated myself to work this panel and on assembly days, with no experience or tuition, controlled different coloured lamps which lighted the stage in particular.

I used to get great delight in switching on the lamps and watch as the rays made the teachers on the stage faces turned red, green and yellow as I switch different lamps on and off.

As you might remember, members of staff including the headmaster and deputy, sat on the stage whilst the assembly proceeded. (who can forget on one occasion, maths teacher, Tommy Gleeson striding so egotistically down the stairs at the front of the stage onto the floor, wearing his trade mark grey dust coat and slipped arse over head on the second step from the bottom)

Somehow Alan George (later school captain) Sid Patterson, Barry Wade, and Stevie Kyneur, (names to be confirmed) all from 2B, had ensconsed themselves on the catwalk over but in front of the stage, and well hidden by curtains, before asembly had begun.

I had done my usual trick with the lights - faces from red to green etc., then joined them as we opened a small door which led to the cavity between the false ceiling in the hall and the roof.

We walked along the rafters and were able to peer down on the pupils below us, all seated attentively, through a vent which surrounded the large circular lights. We thought this a great joke as some of the group decided to let their friends know they were there by spitting through these vents and onto the kids below. Some the surprised faces gazed upwards, whilst we, in the dark waved like mad whilst laughing and carrying on like lunatics.

The fun over, we decided to make our way out, however Barry Wade had misplaced his foot and stepped on part of the false ceiling causing it to pierce the material and for a moment, had his foot and part of his left leg dangling precariously through the ceiling and above the whole school who sat fascinated amid churlish laughter from most if not all of the audience.

We could do nothing but curse Barry who took some effort to reclaim his foot and together, we all made our way to the small exit door and a waiting deputy headmaster who eventually dished out six of the best to each of us.

In actual fact it was very dangerous what we had done; because as Barry had unfortunately demonstrated, a slip or the wrong step and any one of use could have fallen through the ceiling onto the children below.