what I did when I was sixteen...no, no, not that. I was a good girl.....
Last Friday, Delores, from Under the Porch Light, wrote about the frenetic activity experienced at harvest time on the farm when she was young. It brought back memories of one of my very first paid jobs. I'd spent the summer lazing at the Port Pirie beach and had met a boy who'd come to town on holiday. He worked at a sheep station as a Jackeroo. We became good friends and a few months later I heard from him, via mail, (snail mail in those days), that the current housemaid had left for life in the big city and the position was open. Would I like to try it? Yeah, sure, why not? How hard could it be? My dad drove us up there, a few hundred miles north west of Port Augusta, met the family and took off for home again. I was alone in a crowd of strangers, except for ****, and far, far, away from "civilisation", aka the nearest town. The homestead was well stocked, with supplies and mail being brought in by the "mail train" . Ordering was done...