When younger I have no doubt he was a physically imposing man, thanks to a lifetime of hard yakka. As if to confirm this Cousin Bob sent me this story of Dad and Uncle Bill and a day out at Buggaroo.
Just east of the Robertson Cheese Factory and on the southern side of the highway there is a grove of pine trees. (I remember going on a school visit to the cheese factory – must have been primary school I think, they stopped making cheese in 1989 but the shop has continued-selling country knick knacks.) Two old indigents lived under some sheets of corrugated iron there. Winstanley was the sir name of one of them. Mum used to make food for them, especially when it was cold and wet, and Dad would take it to them.
Much of the time they could be found in the pub, the fire and beer were no doubt a big attraction.
Old Winstanley would catch the rail motor down to Wollongong shortly before Christmas and engage in some obvious shoplifting. He would then spend a few weeks in goal where he could dry out a bit, have a few showers and most importantly have some “good” meals and Christmas dinner.
The two old codgers would spend some time at Buggeroo when potato picking was on. They would camp in the hut and pick a few bags. This suited them as they could earn a few dollars and keep out of harms way.
Your dad was a fairly big bloke, tall and strongly built. Him and my dad got along well together. One day Fred accompanied Dad out to Buggeroo to see how things were going. They pulled the Land Rover up to where the old codgers were working. The old codgers looked up and on seeing Fred get out of the vehicle exclaimed that “the Ds are here” and took off into the bush. Fred’s size and presence scared them
Thanks Bob
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