Wavy Dave Or "Neversweat"
Without Prejudice
I remember they day he was born as if it were yesterday. Me 3 and a half and gazing up at a window from the ground below as my Mum showed off our new baby brother, David Alistair, he grew to hate his middle name and would not allow us to tell his friends what it was. He liked to be called David John by the time he went for his first sleepover at Nerang, when we lived at Labrador. In the UK, he signed himself as Dalek Dave on his letters as he was a big fan of Doctor Who. Buy my Dad, Ernie, called him Wavy Dave or "Neverswaet" as Dad said that even in the heat of Port Augusta he never sweated like the rest of us.
He was a cute little baby, clam and placid, coming number six in our eventual family of 7. He was sweet dressed in just nappy and white singlet top and I carried him everywhere I could. Sometimes standing at his cot in the still afternoons, willing him to wake. He grew into a sweet boy, caring and sensitive with tiny freckles across his nose.
I loved his baby smell and soft hair and as far as I was concerned he was "mine". Mine to look after and mine to protect from harm. Jackie, my older sister was the same. We loved our small brother and took him everywhere with us when small. He started school and hated it. Mum would let him ride his 3 wheeler there, down the long hill at Wentworthville and he would be home before she was. Riding in one gate and out another.
he never really ever liked school, he struggled with English and confinement. he still to this day hates writing or spelling and once got me to do it for him and said I was bloody brilliant and should go home and write,
"just write"
I tried to protest but he wouldn't hear of it and followed me up to make sure I was. I wasn't but I soon started as he insisted.
He grew into a tiny boy, skinny beyond all measure, he looked like a biafran. Skinny stick like arms and legs. A distended belly even at 8 or so when we lived at Labrador. Photos of him show him as skinnier than the rest of us and were not overly large, George and I. Dave was just a baby of 18 months or so when Jamie was killed. He has a great memory and like me he can recall back to when he was 2.
He rememebrs the car rolling over and over in the dirt road when Dad rolled the Humber Super Snipe. the speed and the crunching upending on it's side. Ian pulling us out through the window as the big old car lay on its side like a huge tank. We were all shaken up and dad flagged down a passing car. Jackie was swimming that day in a meet at Iron Knob and she still swam but was crying before the race, with shock.
He remembers with clarity, he has a photographic memory like me.
I remember they day he was born as if it were yesterday. Me 3 and a half and gazing up at a window from the ground below as my Mum showed off our new baby brother, David Alistair, he grew to hate his middle name and would not allow us to tell his friends what it was. He liked to be called David John by the time he went for his first sleepover at Nerang, when we lived at Labrador. In the UK, he signed himself as Dalek Dave on his letters as he was a big fan of Doctor Who. Buy my Dad, Ernie, called him Wavy Dave or "Neverswaet" as Dad said that even in the heat of Port Augusta he never sweated like the rest of us.
He was a cute little baby, clam and placid, coming number six in our eventual family of 7. He was sweet dressed in just nappy and white singlet top and I carried him everywhere I could. Sometimes standing at his cot in the still afternoons, willing him to wake. He grew into a sweet boy, caring and sensitive with tiny freckles across his nose.
I loved his baby smell and soft hair and as far as I was concerned he was "mine". Mine to look after and mine to protect from harm. Jackie, my older sister was the same. We loved our small brother and took him everywhere with us when small. He started school and hated it. Mum would let him ride his 3 wheeler there, down the long hill at Wentworthville and he would be home before she was. Riding in one gate and out another.
he never really ever liked school, he struggled with English and confinement. he still to this day hates writing or spelling and once got me to do it for him and said I was bloody brilliant and should go home and write,
"just write"
I tried to protest but he wouldn't hear of it and followed me up to make sure I was. I wasn't but I soon started as he insisted.
He grew into a tiny boy, skinny beyond all measure, he looked like a biafran. Skinny stick like arms and legs. A distended belly even at 8 or so when we lived at Labrador. Photos of him show him as skinnier than the rest of us and were not overly large, George and I. Dave was just a baby of 18 months or so when Jamie was killed. He has a great memory and like me he can recall back to when he was 2.
He rememebrs the car rolling over and over in the dirt road when Dad rolled the Humber Super Snipe. the speed and the crunching upending on it's side. Ian pulling us out through the window as the big old car lay on its side like a huge tank. We were all shaken up and dad flagged down a passing car. Jackie was swimming that day in a meet at Iron Knob and she still swam but was crying before the race, with shock.
He remembers with clarity, he has a photographic memory like me.
