Death and Mayhem in Roleystone – 17th January 1983

A year full of changes. We moved to the 12 acres we bought in Roleystone. No water, no electricity. For six months we lived in a large shed while we built our rammed-earth house.

I enjoyed those months. Life was pared down to basic necessities. A plate and bowl and one set of cutlery for each of us, the washing-up done in a tub on a wooden box. We bathed in the river, sometimes putting John and Rob in an old copper where we also washed our clothes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

A year full of mayhem. The adorable Labrador puppy, we bought to divert the kids from the upheaval of moving house, teamed up with our very old Samoyed, Keisha.

 

 

 

Keisha had convinced us she was too old to do anything strenuous like play with the kids. However, Nelly roused Keisha and together they had a great time chasing ours and the neighbour’s sheep, causing the death of several.      

 

 

Sadly, we took Nelly to the vet who said he would find a suburban home for the very valuable little pedigreed killer.

 

 

 

 

 

 

A year of learning. Don’t be sucked in by a real-estate agent who sells you a block and tells you it’s shame that you don’t want the two horses in residence because they’ll be sent to the knackery.

Don’t build a chook yard at the bottom of the block – Mrs Fox will kill the lot. Don’t offer to look after a friend’s dog even though it’s small and cute and suburban (the name ‘Butch’ should have been a give-away). It too will discover the joys of chasing sheep and you’ll throw off your sarong and find yourself stark-naked in a muddy dam, home to excreting ducks, trying to rescue a water-logged sheep while Butch tries to sit on its head. Don’t climb the fig trees growing wild on the block. David did so, and after reaching out to pick a fig came crashing down, breaking his arm so severely he was hospitalised for two weeks and out of action for months.

 

A year of joys, one of which was ‘EP’ (short for Extra Pooey’) a baby kangaroo, presented to us by a friend who rescued it from its dead mother’s pouch. I had to quickly find out what and how to feed it. I started off with a formula of sunshine milk with various additives, fed from a bottle with a length of bicycle valve rubber. At first it seemed OK but the poor little thing had the scours and took an hour to swallow two ounces every feed time. It improved slightly after I phoned the zoo and was told to put charcoal tablets in its milk. Things looked up for EP after finding an amazing woman called Joan Moore in the Middle Swan. Marsupials and other animals roamed all over her property and you would find her feeding four joeys at once – 2 bottles in each hand. She supplied me with lactose-free milk and special marsupial teats.