Grant and Bazza

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Left: Grant Hofmeyer, born to be a letterpress printer, had one of the largest wine label collections in Oz, print historian, blacksmith, training coordinator and OHS guru.
Unfortunately, Grant has been quite unwell of late and our thoughts are with him.
Right: Barry O’Donnell (international globetrotter, footballer, football umpire, letterpress printer, dear friend of the late great Lew Morrison, (who was a Glaswegian by birth).
Oh! and he took the Greatest diving catch ever at the Old Guv’s Lunchtime cricket games in the 1970s.

Photo by Mark Noble

Hans Roling.

img_4413_zps57aa5c25-scaled500There is absolutely no truth in the rumour that Hans Roling wasn’t having a good time at the Bazza O’Donnell table at the 2012 Reunion.
Just look at him here he’s laughing kitbags!
Let’s just hope we can squeeze a function in by the end of a year most of us won’t forget!

 

Allan Dell.

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I have known Allan Dell since July, 1973 when on my first day at work Bob Downs ‘anKissMyArse’ warned me that a gentleman Allan (2L’s) Dell battered metal type with gay abandon.
“He wears hobnailed boots and then struts his stuff over the type formes,” Bob whispered’. I was horrified.
Now I believed that Bob was an honest man and would tell me the truth
My Confession…
From that time on I dreaded the call, “Parham go down and fix Porky’s forme  again. “Help him out will you, he’s shagged up yet another job”. “And by the way, don’t forget to take the whole bloody type case this time!”
I was literally terrified of a man that I have now grown to Love!
In 2009, one morning I awoke from a dream with a shudder and felt ashamed.
I realised that I had let 36 years pass under the bridge and still  had not forgiven a man for those battered pieces of lead type so many years before…
Mr. Dell, our Beloved Luncheon Leader, you are indeed an Old Guv Legend!
PS: My favourite story about the young Porks was that during his Printing Apprenticeship on a particularly hot day he had been asked by the senior printers to go out and get some milk, bring it back and put it on ice to keep it cold.
When it was time for their tea break imagine their horror when they found out that our hero had got the bottles of milk, taken the tops off and poured  it all over the top of the ice in the work sink.
Worse still it was slowly being spoilt by the sludge in the sink. It was useless!
TRUE STORY.

Little Lew Morrison.

9709c71bThe late Little Lew Morrison accidentally ended up in the “Royal Navy” during World War II.
Whilst pretending to be a Sea Scout he got drafted and soon was entertaining all the sailors and troops. Not many knew it, but Lew looked like Fred Astaire and he danced like him as well. Well, almost!
He became famous and was known as the most famous exponent of scottish hornpipery throughout the Seven Seas.
But, sadly it didn’t last because one stormy night when it was blowing a gale Lew decided to entertain the sailors on the Night Watch with a little jig.
As he leapt into the air a stormy gust of wind grabbed his little scarecrow body and flung him across the deck nearly into the angry raging sea.
But luckily his leg stopped his slide into oblivion when it smashed into a railing and with a crack that could be heard above the storm it snapped.
Poor old “Twinkle Toes”.
Then there was a long period of convalescence where he tried vainly to dance for the pretty English nurses. But the damage was done, no more Fred, no more hornpipe and no more skipping happily and gaily throughout the Scottish highlands.
It is a period of Lew’s life that has been kept hidden from humankind right up until now.
God Bless you “Twinkle Toes.”
derwombat

‘My Coulrophobia’.

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What is “Coulrophobia”?
It is the irrational fear of Clowns.
Since it is not an old phobia, but one that has increased in recent decades, little is known about coulrophobia.
Scientists and doctors now agree that it is a result of not knowing who lies behind the excessive makeup, red nose and hair color.
Some researchers believe that coulrophobia cases increased after the 1990s, when Steven Spielberg classic horror film “IT” depicting a murderous clown was released.
Social implications
The phobia can cause a state of panic, difficulty in breathing, irregular heartbeat, sweating, nausea and feelings of fear.
Coulrphobia may seem absurd for some, however, many people suffer so much, that it prevents them from eating a hamburger in that famous fast food chain.
It is not a trivial matter either and coulrophobia shouldn’t be treated lightly.
Although the fear of clowns develops most of the time during childhood, when children are very sensitive to an unfamiliar face, it is also prevalent amongst adults.
My Pathetic Story:
I have had Coulrophobia since being a child when my Dad took me to a small Aussie circus behind the Maid of Auckland Hotel on South Road, Edwardstown in South Australia.
It would have been in the mid 1950s.
Apart from falling down between those horrid walk boards while I was trying to find my seat I was terrorised by an evil looking Clown with a stick and a rubber horn. He scared me shitless.
He barked like a dog and I was so terrified that I screamed like a little girlie and ran away and have been mortified by Clowns ever since.
Being shoved out the front of the crowd at John Martin’s Christmas Pageant and having poorly made up clowns blowing trumpets and poking balloons in my face didn’t help either.
At least they could have offered some hard boiled sweets.
People thought I was joking when I couldn’t bear to watch “Bozo” or was it “Bobo” the Clown on Channel 9 Kid’s Television in the late 1950s in Adelaide?
It’s all true you know and strangely enough my nine year old grandson Seamus is now a sufferer.
Am I responsible for that?
Rod Parham

‘An Act of Kindness during the Action’.

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Bedded down somewhere in the Pacific during the mayhem and fierce fighting against the Japanese army during World War II, this American soldier takes time out to show some kindness by feeding a banana to a battle weary goat.

derwombat.

Is this Fake News?

Take a close look at this picture. Who does it remind you of?
It’s supposed to be Wayne Riley, cousin to our Alex ‘The Toff’ Riley. Wayne is from Darwin.

I wonder if that picture is ‘fair dinkum’. It looks suspiciously like Riley wearing a wig from his doll collection.
If it is Alex he joins the immortals like Joe Goebbels, Trump, Morrison and beautiful Boris, all specialists in the art of deception and Fake News.
Derwombat

Kym and Alex.

As a young hot metal apprentice Kym never believed the stories about Alex that he was ‘tight as a fishes ass hole’.
He thought, ‘Why are people so cruel about Alex’?
Why do they say that he will not spend any money and that he will never open his wallet and buy his wife dinner?
Well, Kym left Adelaide and went to live in Western Australia never knowing the truth about Alex.
He returns 30 years later to attend a function in his honour.
Thinking Alex will finally buy him that beer he promised he waits at the Bar with Alex. And waits…
And waits, and waits… Alex leaves in his Jaguar without a goodbye.
Finally, nice guy Kym realises the awful truth…
Alex Riley is a bloody ‘tightarse’ who can’t remember people’s names.

Harry the Horse and The Toff.

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This photo is of the late Harry Kinder (an excellent English Compositor).
Note: Harry who was ‘old school’ always wore a tie to work.
The other person in the photo is a quite young Alex (The Toff) Riley.
Apparently Alex was a nice person with hair in those days. However, he was later to become a selfish and cruel person.
This rather suggestive photo was taken by the late John Hunkin (Monotype Operator) many, many years ago…
Location: Could possibly be Jolly’s Boatshed, River Torrens, Adelaide. 
derwombat

‘My Blazing Nuts’, an Adults Only Story of Pain.

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I had a near death experience some 40 years ago when I lived with my Mum and Dad and slept out the back of the house in a “sleep out”.
It was one warm Adelaide night that I rolled over in bed and displaced a testicle.
Where did it go? I don’t know, but all of a sudden I had a golf ball and a basketball where normally two snooker balls should have been !
Oh! The agony and searing pain. I staggered into the house and wailed for my dear old Dad.
My father had been a Sar Major in the Aussie Army and not unused to grief. “It will be fixed,” he announced. “Now go back to bed my boy and I will be out in a flash”.
I laid back on the bed groaning and throbbing. The door flew open and in walked Dad a can of Johnson’s Baby Powder in one hand and a Philips Heat Lamp in the other.

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He proceeded to powder the painful area profusely with baby powder and then taking the heat lamp he concentrated its red intense ray on those poor unfortunate testicles.
Did it help you may ask?
No Bloody Way! After an hour of this torture I screamed “Help Me”!”
“Perhaps, I had better ring the Doctor,” Dad murmured.
Some time later he came back and said, “Not Good News I’m afraid son.” “There’s a possibility you may die if we don’t get you to the Royal Adelaide Hospital quick smart”.
BLOODY HELL!
We made it to the Emergency Ward in Dad’s old FC Holden.
There. a group of Doctors were excitedly calling to each other. “Hey! Come and have a look at this.” “I’ve never seen one of these before!”
They herded me into a small room and turned off the lights. I was hysterical. Then the flashlights started popping on as they strained to get a better view.
All I could see was eyes, doctor eyes!
Then the manipulation began as they tried to move the offending testicle back into its rightful pocket.
It worked, the relief was instantly wonderful as they congratulated themselves for saving yet another set of testicles.
I staggered out into the corridor to live yet another day. Dad was waiting and hugged me.
Under his breath I think I heard him say, “Next time I think I’ll use the bloody Savlon cream instead.”
derwombat