Memoirs - Page 4
I have no knowledge of my father's political beliefs or leanings (I suspect he may have been Labor inclined?) and even less about his religion. He was, I believe, a baptized Catholic - but committed believer and practitioner (I don't recall him ever attending church or Mass with us) I cannot say. He was, however, without doubt an anti-monarchist and certainly anti-English. I cannot consider him as likely to have been at one with or survived the technological revolution following the end of the Second World War in 1945 and still going on apace at the end of the century had he lived beyond 1948.
I seem to recall that he was often ill and/or incapacitated in some way though he did pursue - perhaps in an itinerant fashion - the work of a house to house purveyor of home delivered (by horse and cart - both on daily hire) fruit, vegetables, eggs etc. etc. I would, on occasion, assist - if only to tend the horse and the produce whilst he dropped in to the "doctor" for some "medication" - and, upon further reflection, there may have been a time, or times, when milk and cream were the products of the day. I also seem to recall that, in general, he was a good talker and affable vendor - well liked and received by his clientele. I do not recall him yodelling to announce his arrival in the areas in which he plied his trade in those days, though he did have a loud and lyrical call to alert potential (and regular?) clients to his arrival. I do know that, when he was involved in any regular work, he would come home at the end of the working week with small treats - usually comics - for Vince and me.
Strangely, and unexpectedly, I received - some 2-3 years ago (ie in the late 1990s) - external, unsolicited verification of his Sydney (at least) reputation as being a yodelling milkman. On the occasion of a return journey from a short visit to Sydney Joan and I stopped for a travel rest - cuppa tea and a bun - at our favorite bakery in BERRIMA. We, the only customers at first, were joined later by two somewhat older women. Each of us was minding our own business when one of the women leaped out of her seat and, addressing a painting on a wall, exclaimed loudly "that's not the MANLY I remember"! Attracted by the remark and its unexpectedness I enquired of her "do you know Manly"?, to which she responded that she was born and raised there. For whatever reason I then informed her that my father - the yodelling milkman (whose name I did not proffer) - had pioneered the Manly/Dee Why/ Pittwater area in the late 1920's/ early 1930's.
To our surprise she confirmed that she, as a young girl, had known him (Joe DWYER she, without any prompting from me, volunteered as being his name) and, having been summoned down from her parents home in one of the many hills to the rustic track on which he plied his trade, had often had her milk-pail filled by him. She recounted that the "melodious" yodel signalled the arrival of the friendly milk vendor in the area.
Imagine our further consternation when she volunteered the additional information that she knew his wife (and my mother) Ethel "even better". It transpired that she (and can you believe that in my state of shock I did not even take - and cannot recall - details of her name and then current address/ telephone contact number) worked for an accountant's office in Sydney and was responsible for collecting and banking the daily takings of a restaurant (MOCKBELL'S, in Martin Place) where Mum was, for many years, employed as a specialist cook. They became friendly too over a cuppa and a sandwich or sweet and she spoke in complimentary, and nostalgic, terms of "Et" - to whom my chronicle now turns.