Choo Choo Bars
Without Prejudice
I was always being chased by boys even as a straw haired, freckled, tomboy, cowgirl. It never ceased to amaze me.
It started with Little Peter across the road trying to show me his bits, in the outhouse. There was a birthday party, I remember and balloons and lollies on a trestle under the verandah at the back
And my Mother ticked me off and I was as mad as a cut snake. I hadn't even been allowed to see a peek, and I was so curious. What did little boys have that I didn't?
He'd drawn crude drawings in the dirt road a few days beforehand, his Sister and I had gazed at them puzzled.
They didn't look possible but he was determined to show me in the "flesh", so that I would understand, I felt wicked as my Mum told me off.
There was a boy that used to follow me home from school when I was 5, who used to offer me licorice choo choo bars. His name was Douglas Payne, he was a pain and I told him he gave me a headache, just so he'd give up.
When I was 7 I had an albino suitor, Hugh, that followed me around like a myopic bird, all arms and legs like a high stepping Crane. Gazing at me through his tinted glasses, his eyes tinged pink and his white blonde hair flopping around his face.
I thought he was the worst thing I had ever seen and had to hide from him all the time and that was annoying too. For some reason I think they were attracted to my brain, certainly not my sunburned nose, or whispy hair.
I was a funny little girl, I was really brainy even at a young age, I could read and write before I went to school. I can remember kids writing words in the dirt in the road, running writing and I was so jealous of this "new thing"
Writing, running writing, and I wasn't even printing, so I must have talked my Mum into teaching me as baby Dave slept in the cot in the hot afternoons. I longed for my brothers and sister to arrive home to play with and show me what they had done at school, that day.
And the day I started at Wilsden Primary School I cried my eyes out, the only child, how embarrassing. The teacher stood me at the window and soothed me,
"Look, there are your brothers and sister outside"
I gazed out miserably and thought yes they were but I needed them inside with me. I was bright and painfully shy, really withdrawn. But I must have come out of it as by half year I was moved up to Grade 1.
And I became the School Reader. I read to preps and because I must have had a good speaking voice I read all the stories in the afternoon over the microphone.
A group of boys came up to me, once and one told me to read the word held out in fromt of me and I said,
"Alphabet"
And the boy nudged his mates, saying
"I told you so"
I had no idea what they were doing but I gathered it was something good.
And though shy I was also intensely competitive and always wanted to beat the boys at school work, as in those days the boys were the most brainy.
I just tried really hard. Mum and Dad buying me a toy working kitchen when I was put up to grade 1 and roller skates when I won the first exam in grade 1.
Because I was shy I didn't want to be putting my hand up all the time, it looked like I was a show off. My parents sat me down and said,
"You're Scottish and you're proud, you're a Bruckshaw and you're proud, so go back there and put your hand up."
So I did and I trounced them all, no matter what school and I went to 17 in total. I was like a little child prodigy, always the Reader, the Narrator of Concerts, taking up different voices as necessary.
We were pretty old fashioned girls, Jackie and I. Our Mum and Dad wouldn't let us out of their sight, having lost a child, so we were kept pretty innocent. Not wordly at all. Cossetted and protected, the apple of Dad's eye.
Mum was super strict and we were expected to help out with jobs, washing dishes, peeling spuds which we would then eat raw pieces of. We were not well off so dinner was always something disgusting like Pigs Trotters, Tripe, Rabbit, Brains, Liver, Steak and Kidney and once a year at Christmas a chicken.
I was a fussy slow eater, my Mum saying,
"Janette's finishing breakfast when everyone else is starting lunch",
I ate only and I mean only, scrambled eggs and tomato soup, only Campbells and only made with milk, sandwiches I could manage. Mum's lunches were outstandingly odd. A great big door stop of bread and a hard boiled egg or tomato, with a twist of paper with salt in.
That was pretty much it. Or Vegemite sandwiches which by lunchtime were hard and curled.
She started at the canteen though, we were delighted and hot cups of tomato soup and hot cocoa were our delicious treats.
At Canowindra school I was slapped across the face by two girls for being such a Miss Smart Pants. I hadn't seen it coming, one of the girls wanting to be my friend, had drawn me in to whisper something in my ear and
"Wham!"
A big crack across the face and I must have put my hand to my face in shock because I could feel the heat in my face,
"Thats for being a Miss Smarty Pants", she said
And they both ran off, leaving me standing there, stunned.
I no doubt went home and bawled my eyes out and was given the "Proud" speech, again. The slap didn't deter me though, I just went back and kept on being me.
We lived in a Commission house in Canowindra and in those day they were estates or little ghettos and we truly met the worst and best kids. It toughened us up, which was not a bad thing and George was a fierce fighter, most of the kids were scared of him
And when Mum had one of her migraines, we were incensed when the Urens next door decided to throw rocks on the roof. We were all outraged, our poor Mother inside a darkened cool room and these boys were waking her up.
There was a huge fight and George bloodied Billy Uren's nose and then we really were in trouble. And ever after that we were in trouble, running the neighbourhood with all the other kids. Staying out late and getting in trouble with Mum.
I didn't get any more "Choo Choo" bars for a while, I was still winning exams and swimming all the time I wasn't studying. I was one of those little swots that LOVED homework, always wanting the A on the top of the paper.
I read voraciuosly, not stopping until I had finished and I could read fast. I never ever realised how fast I could read until people started pointing it out.
Not believing that I had read a page held out to me until they asked questions from the text. It became a good tool when I went to Uni.
I found out I could write a story after we were set an excercise to write a poem about Bushrangers, mine was dark and foreboding and I hated it.
The metier being the rythm to "The Boy Stood On The Burning Deck" and began with "The Bushranger Stood on the top of the hill, his eyes were narrowed for the kill", it was hideous and depressing but I handed it in anyway and received some bad mark.
But I kept up reading, Enid Blyton, Famous Five, Secret Seven, What Katy Did, Little Women, Ballet Shoes by Noel Streetham, Stage Door,
I read all the boys library books if I had read all mine and that would cause big fights, Mum would always hand the book to me to save fights, saying
"Let Janette read it first, she'll be finished in half an hour"
My brothers giving me dark looks and I had a feeling I'd get thumped later.
I had a story published in the Brisbane Courier Mail and won first prize and received a Postal Voucher for 11 shillings and sixpence.
But when I found I could write a story and get good marks that became my passion. I scribbled in exercise books and kept them hidden, I read Tom Sawyer and was instantly Miss Becky, I read the Wind In The Willows and lived inside that world. Totally immersed and it became my favourite book of all time.
Jackie hated it as I loved it, saying
"Animals don't talk!"
Jackie was never a scholar her real passion was music, singing and playing Bass Guitar and by the time she was 14 she was already entertaining with Dad.
I was always being chased by boys even as a straw haired, freckled, tomboy, cowgirl. It never ceased to amaze me.
It started with Little Peter across the road trying to show me his bits, in the outhouse. There was a birthday party, I remember and balloons and lollies on a trestle under the verandah at the back
And my Mother ticked me off and I was as mad as a cut snake. I hadn't even been allowed to see a peek, and I was so curious. What did little boys have that I didn't?
He'd drawn crude drawings in the dirt road a few days beforehand, his Sister and I had gazed at them puzzled.
They didn't look possible but he was determined to show me in the "flesh", so that I would understand, I felt wicked as my Mum told me off.
There was a boy that used to follow me home from school when I was 5, who used to offer me licorice choo choo bars. His name was Douglas Payne, he was a pain and I told him he gave me a headache, just so he'd give up.
When I was 7 I had an albino suitor, Hugh, that followed me around like a myopic bird, all arms and legs like a high stepping Crane. Gazing at me through his tinted glasses, his eyes tinged pink and his white blonde hair flopping around his face.
I thought he was the worst thing I had ever seen and had to hide from him all the time and that was annoying too. For some reason I think they were attracted to my brain, certainly not my sunburned nose, or whispy hair.
I was a funny little girl, I was really brainy even at a young age, I could read and write before I went to school. I can remember kids writing words in the dirt in the road, running writing and I was so jealous of this "new thing"
Writing, running writing, and I wasn't even printing, so I must have talked my Mum into teaching me as baby Dave slept in the cot in the hot afternoons. I longed for my brothers and sister to arrive home to play with and show me what they had done at school, that day.
And the day I started at Wilsden Primary School I cried my eyes out, the only child, how embarrassing. The teacher stood me at the window and soothed me,
"Look, there are your brothers and sister outside"
I gazed out miserably and thought yes they were but I needed them inside with me. I was bright and painfully shy, really withdrawn. But I must have come out of it as by half year I was moved up to Grade 1.
And I became the School Reader. I read to preps and because I must have had a good speaking voice I read all the stories in the afternoon over the microphone.
A group of boys came up to me, once and one told me to read the word held out in fromt of me and I said,
"Alphabet"
And the boy nudged his mates, saying
"I told you so"
I had no idea what they were doing but I gathered it was something good.
And though shy I was also intensely competitive and always wanted to beat the boys at school work, as in those days the boys were the most brainy.
I just tried really hard. Mum and Dad buying me a toy working kitchen when I was put up to grade 1 and roller skates when I won the first exam in grade 1.
Because I was shy I didn't want to be putting my hand up all the time, it looked like I was a show off. My parents sat me down and said,
"You're Scottish and you're proud, you're a Bruckshaw and you're proud, so go back there and put your hand up."
So I did and I trounced them all, no matter what school and I went to 17 in total. I was like a little child prodigy, always the Reader, the Narrator of Concerts, taking up different voices as necessary.
We were pretty old fashioned girls, Jackie and I. Our Mum and Dad wouldn't let us out of their sight, having lost a child, so we were kept pretty innocent. Not wordly at all. Cossetted and protected, the apple of Dad's eye.
Mum was super strict and we were expected to help out with jobs, washing dishes, peeling spuds which we would then eat raw pieces of. We were not well off so dinner was always something disgusting like Pigs Trotters, Tripe, Rabbit, Brains, Liver, Steak and Kidney and once a year at Christmas a chicken.
I was a fussy slow eater, my Mum saying,
"Janette's finishing breakfast when everyone else is starting lunch",
I ate only and I mean only, scrambled eggs and tomato soup, only Campbells and only made with milk, sandwiches I could manage. Mum's lunches were outstandingly odd. A great big door stop of bread and a hard boiled egg or tomato, with a twist of paper with salt in.
That was pretty much it. Or Vegemite sandwiches which by lunchtime were hard and curled.
She started at the canteen though, we were delighted and hot cups of tomato soup and hot cocoa were our delicious treats.
At Canowindra school I was slapped across the face by two girls for being such a Miss Smart Pants. I hadn't seen it coming, one of the girls wanting to be my friend, had drawn me in to whisper something in my ear and
"Wham!"
A big crack across the face and I must have put my hand to my face in shock because I could feel the heat in my face,
"Thats for being a Miss Smarty Pants", she said
And they both ran off, leaving me standing there, stunned.
I no doubt went home and bawled my eyes out and was given the "Proud" speech, again. The slap didn't deter me though, I just went back and kept on being me.
We lived in a Commission house in Canowindra and in those day they were estates or little ghettos and we truly met the worst and best kids. It toughened us up, which was not a bad thing and George was a fierce fighter, most of the kids were scared of him
And when Mum had one of her migraines, we were incensed when the Urens next door decided to throw rocks on the roof. We were all outraged, our poor Mother inside a darkened cool room and these boys were waking her up.
There was a huge fight and George bloodied Billy Uren's nose and then we really were in trouble. And ever after that we were in trouble, running the neighbourhood with all the other kids. Staying out late and getting in trouble with Mum.
I didn't get any more "Choo Choo" bars for a while, I was still winning exams and swimming all the time I wasn't studying. I was one of those little swots that LOVED homework, always wanting the A on the top of the paper.
I read voraciuosly, not stopping until I had finished and I could read fast. I never ever realised how fast I could read until people started pointing it out.
Not believing that I had read a page held out to me until they asked questions from the text. It became a good tool when I went to Uni.
I found out I could write a story after we were set an excercise to write a poem about Bushrangers, mine was dark and foreboding and I hated it.
The metier being the rythm to "The Boy Stood On The Burning Deck" and began with "The Bushranger Stood on the top of the hill, his eyes were narrowed for the kill", it was hideous and depressing but I handed it in anyway and received some bad mark.
But I kept up reading, Enid Blyton, Famous Five, Secret Seven, What Katy Did, Little Women, Ballet Shoes by Noel Streetham, Stage Door,
I read all the boys library books if I had read all mine and that would cause big fights, Mum would always hand the book to me to save fights, saying
"Let Janette read it first, she'll be finished in half an hour"
My brothers giving me dark looks and I had a feeling I'd get thumped later.
I had a story published in the Brisbane Courier Mail and won first prize and received a Postal Voucher for 11 shillings and sixpence.
But when I found I could write a story and get good marks that became my passion. I scribbled in exercise books and kept them hidden, I read Tom Sawyer and was instantly Miss Becky, I read the Wind In The Willows and lived inside that world. Totally immersed and it became my favourite book of all time.
Jackie hated it as I loved it, saying
"Animals don't talk!"
Jackie was never a scholar her real passion was music, singing and playing Bass Guitar and by the time she was 14 she was already entertaining with Dad.
