The Journal of Paul O'Leary: From the City to the Outback

by Michael Mardel



  The Journal of Paul O’Leary

  From the City to the Outback

  By Michael P Mardel

  Written and published by Michael P Mardel

  All rights reserved.

  Edited by Sandra Finger Lee and Dot Green.

  With input from the McIntosh-Tattersall & Coopes families, Robert Gillman and Fiona Sharpe, tennis coach.

  Copyright © 2013 Broome

  ISBN: 978-0-9923577-5-7

  In memory of my father, Paul Mardel, 1921-1956

  Go to Michael's website: https://www.downunderonline.org for other books

  (Designer: Thea Stainsby: https://www.stainsbyte.com)

  This story has a conversational narrative recorded by a boy who was less articulate with language and study than with sport and boys’ games – his favourite pastime.

  He is a typical boy who had a close relationship with his mum and dad and friends.

  Not forgetting Lassie, his dog. And his desire to do well in all he tackled.

  The journal maintained a steady pace with credibility and engaged me.

  —Sandra Finger Lee, editor.

  This is a charming story tracing Paul O’Leary’s journey to the other side of Australia to live. Paul is an only child with a great imagination who never stops doing things or wanting to explore. This allows him to find friends and adventures everywhere and then he is encouraged by his father to write about these adventures in a journal. This book is recommended if you want to relax with story that is filled with details about life from a 10 year old boy’s perspective.

  —Robert Gillman, teacher.

  This book is an exceptional little masterpiece that has very cleverly captured the adventures of life here in the Kimberley through the eyes of a young boy and also the changes from Melbourne moving here to sunny Broome.

  I gave the book to my 10 year old to give it the ultimate test and he devoured it in one night, staying up well into the early hours of the morning to finish it ....

  If this is the first installment then I look forward to reading many more exciting adventure books from Author Michael Mardel.

  —Andrew Coopes, Group Leader

  Table of Contents

  1 Preparing to Leave

  2 Saying goodbye

  3 The Daring Things I Do.

  4 Searching for Gold.

  5 My Last Days in Melbourne.

  6 We arrive in Broome.

  7 Exploring my new Neighborhood.

  8 Broome the Neighborhood.

  9 Starting My New School.

  10 Getting Foxtel, TV and the Internet.

  11 School, Footy and Tennis.

  12 Stranded and Rescued.

  13 Holiday Fun.

  14 First Tennis Lesson.

  15 Scouts and Reading.

  16 A Tennis Lesson and a Trip.

  17 Melbourne and Trips.

  18 Christmas.

  19 Tennis Open.

  20 Return to Melbourne.

  Comprehension Questions

  Comprehension Answers

  References

  1 Preparing to Leave

  My name is Paul O’Leary and I am 10 years old and an only child. I have blue eyes and black hair thanks to my Irish heritage on both sides. My Dad works from home as a writer and publisher and his name is Harry. My Mum is a social worker, whose name is Ann.

  I am of average size, a bit chubby and I love to kick a football and play with my dog, Lassie. I’m not much into reading though I do like adventure stories where I can escape into fantasy and be the hero. Often at night, when I’m dreaming, I’ll end up in different places and different times and have an adventure, like Dr Who. Though sometimes I’ll get in a jam and have to wake myself up from a nightmare.

  I’m in Year 5 at a primary school in the northern suburbs of Melbourne and this is my journal. Most school subjects are okay and I like sport the best and maths the least. We are allowed one hour a day on the school computers to do our work but not to play games. Sometimes we have a turn on an iPad but not often, as there aren’t enough to go around the whole school. Also, if I’ve been talking instead of working, I’ll miss out. This happened when my group had to interview an elderly grandmother. My mate Johnny had the iPad to keep a record, while I took some notes.

  I’m typing this story on my Dad’s laptop as he allows me at least an hour a day while he watches the news. Sometimes I play games instead as I don’t have any and I have a screen of my journal waiting in case I don’t hear him return in time. I can’t wait to get my own computer.

  We are about to leave Melbourne and fly to Broome, about 4,000 kms away. I’ve never been there before and Dad says it’s too far to drive in our small Mazda. Mum is already there, and has a permanent job with a government subsidised house provided. I really miss her as she’s been gone nearly six months.

  Mum rings us every evening. She has blond hair and is very cuddly. She tells us why she loves Broome and that she can’t wait to see us. I’m always sad after she hangs up as I miss her cuddles and her cooking, though I don’t tell Dad. He gets by with frozen dinners and spaghetti but it’s not the same. Every night I think of her before I go to sleep. Sometimes I dream of us all together and I wake with a smile on my face. That’s the best part of going to sleep, having adventures.

  My Dad also has blue eyes but his hair is greying. He likes to wear t-shirts and shorts once the temperature hits 20 degrees. He works from home so he’s usually there when I return from school.

  “Hi Dad, I’m home!”

  “Be with you in a minute, son,” says Dad. “I’m just finishing off some correspondence.”

  “Are you excited, Dad, about going?”

  “Yes, Paul, but I’m going to have to stop working soon. Hopefully nobody will put in an order for a paperback copy. I’m going to offer free eBooks until we’re settled and then only at a small price, like $10.

  “Anyway, have your afternoon tea and walk Lassie. Then we’ll kick the football in the street. I gather your mate Johnny is doing something else this afternoon.”

  “Yes, he had to go to the dentist. Yuck!”

  I had my favourite Oreos and a glass of milk then walked Lassie for half an hour. She’s a border collie cross, black with a white streak on her chest and on her front left paw. We got her through the ‘Save-a-Dog’ scheme when she was about two years old. Dad had to fork out over $200 for her but she’s worth it. She sleeps inside with me at night and has the run of the yard in the daytime. I wonder how she’ll cope with the heat.

  “We had a tennis player come to visit us at school today, Dad. His name was Bernard Tomic and he was big and tall. He told us about life on the tennis circuit, how he felt about retiring during the French Open, his training regime and his diet. My teacher chose me and Johnny to have a hit out with Tomic on the basketball court. I had trouble holding the racquet with my small hands, but Johnny was a natural, holding it the right way for forehand and backhand.

  “Could I have lessons once we’re in Broome, Dad?”

  “We’ll see, son. How about I check on the Internet now before we go out to play?”

  Dad searched BRAC and found the Broome Recreation and Aquatic Centre.

  “They have eight outdoor tennis courts but there’s no mention of lessons. I’ll email them and see what they say. The site also says there are racquets for hire so you can try out different sizes, Paul. If worse comes to worse, I can always teach you what I know as I had lessons around your age.”

  I can’t imagine Dad being my size. I hope I don’t make a fool of myself.

  An hour later it wa
s getting dark and the street lights were coming on. I lost the first round of football as my kicks ended on the road and soon I had spelt DONKEY. We faced each other on the opposite nature strip and had to kick the football carefully so it landed on the opposite side of the road. My kicks ended on the road six times whereas Dad is only up to DON and one of those was my kick which landed on his side but bounced backward onto the road before he could stop it.

  When I play this game with my mate, Johnny, in his street, the road is narrower and I’ve even managed a mark which gives me a point so I can knock off a letter from DONKEY or save it for the next time my ball hits the road. It’s great practice for accurate kicking though I’m never chosen to play at school as I’m too short and chubby. Maybe one day I will beef up and be able to kick longer and higher. I want to be the best kick in our street.

  When Dad and I arrived home, there was a great smell coming from the kitchen. Dad’s special recipe for his secret spaghetti sauce had been simmering away. Soon we were tucking into a great spread followed by ice cream. Mum can’t beat that.

  As it was news time, Dad took over the TV controls and I went to his office to work on his laptop. In my own folder I can type up my journal as I go. But not for long. I still have homework to do. Before I know it, Dad’s back and wants his laptop. I finish up with a printout of my science project which I started last week called Growing Your Own.

  This was a project designed by my Dad so he had me trial it. I had to go online and look up different vegies and which ones were companions. I then had to grow some seeds of the vegies I chose. Of course, they didn’t work out as I forgot to water them for two days.

  My teacher wants us to do the growing at home but we can bring our seedlings to school to show everyone how they’re going. Dad bought some two-litre bottles of soft drink which we had to drink, so he could then cut the bottles in half and make a seed germinator. We had some potting mix out the back and the letter from the teacher showed Dad this was a science project where we had to observe and analyse how the seeds responded. As if he didn’t know, as he designed it.

  I made up my poster in class and called it Companion Vegies. I had to have six columns and four rows showing my vegies plus a flowering plant and what I could grow together. Companion plants are those that complement each other and help them to grow. I selected beans which help lettuce, corn and carrots but don’t help tomatoes. For the beans, I chose flowering nasturtiums which protect the beans against insects.

  “Hey Paul”, Dad called, “the BRAC have included us in an email to other members of the tennis club so we might get an answer soon about those lessons. But don’t worry, I’ll still help out so you get plenty of practice, just like I’ll do for you when you’re learning how to drive a car.”

  “But that’s a long way off, Dad”.

  I went to bed and dreamed of being a Formula One driver at Albert Park. I’d been reading a story about Mark Webber.

  I was really there, whizzing round the course until I ran out of petrol. Ugh! I only had time to pull over and get out of everyone’s way. My team came running over to give me some juice but, for me, the race was over and I wouldn’t get any points.

  My team were supposed to tell me when to make a pit stop but they miscalculated by one lap when I would have had my tires changed as well. I was really wound up and woke up with my sheet wrapped around my feet.

  2 Saying goodbye

  Mum rang again last night and we had a long chat. She’s organising our flights in a month’s time so our departure is getting closer. She sent a picture of our new house. It’s a bit dark as she took it early in the morning. It has three large bedrooms, ensuite and separate bath and shower and toilet, large dining area and lounge. And a big back yard.

  We will have to buy a household of things like a TV and a double bed. We have some furniture plus a fridge. It’s going to be a bit expensive at first but it makes it more real talking about what it’s going to be like there though I can’t imagine not living at home in Melbourne. In Broome I’ll look forward to summer-like weather all the time. And maybe even a bike.

  Next Sunday we’re going to visit Grandma’s place and will be able to show her what our new place looks like. I think she’ll be sad to see us go so far away, but Dad will be back to visit her in about six months’ time.

  “I know Broome is a long way from Melbourne, Mum. But I’ll ring every week like my brother David does, though he can visit oftener, being in Canberra. I expect the phone charges will be higher but Ann said I can use Skype like a normal phone call but from a computer and a whole lot cheaper.”

  “Don’t mind me; you have to go where your wife Ann has found a good job. I can ring alternate weeks, too. But if you said Skype is much cheaper, then we’ll stick with that. We’re going to be telephoned out on Sunday but that’s okay as I can speak with both of you. You’re my wandering gypsy, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’ve been to Kununurra for a year as well as Perth and Brookton. I’m not promising again that I won’t stay away as long as that time or my overseas trip of 22 months. I’ll be back in August anyway when your carer goes on leave so that’s not too long to wait.”

  I was listening to all this as I dried the dishes after lunch. Dad is the eldest in his family and seems to be the poorest, but that doesn’t stop him following his dream of writing. I have no idea what I’m going to do when I’m older or where I’ll be. We’re renting our Melbourne house so we may not return for five years when I’ll be 15. Maybe I’ll go to a TAFE College which takes teenagers as well as adults to learn a trade. Plumbers seemed to be well paid so I may study something in that line, I think. Maybe there is something similar in Broome. Something else for Dad to check out.

  When we arrived home in time for tea, Dad searched the Internet and found out the following:

  Broome campus offers courses in the following areas:

  Access, Agribusiness-Land, Agribusiness-Sea, Beauty, Business and Information Technology, Community Services, Creative and Cultural Arts, Hospitality and Tourism, Trades, Training and Assessment .

  The Maritime Simulator Centre is situated on Broome Campus and delivers training for Marine Pilots, Tug Masters and development of new ports.

  I don’t know what all that means but no doubt I’ll learn more when I get to Broome. I wonder what trades they will offer. And what do I want to do? Be a car mechanic, maybe. For now I want to learn about computers so Business and Information Technology is the way to go. I remember last year doing a project called Computer Walkabout. I learnt how to type faster and use shortcuts. There was a good story we had to type up, a section at a time. It was about this kid called Nathan who lived near my grandmother and holidayed in the Ebden house, near the beach at Black Rock. He was not allowed to play with the Aboriginal children who used to disappear every time he went out the big garden gate. This gate was really huge and the garden within had three stalls for horses, a chimney for cooking and a small vegetable garden. Anyway, Christmas was coming up and he wanted to give a present to the children. The cook told him to stay away as they were heathens and didn’t celebrate Christmas. But Nathan wanted to do something. When he was asked to go fishing in the Bay he got his answer, fish as a present.

  I’ve been there a few times and listened to the stories the author writes about, like protecting themselves from the Aborigines by building the very large wooden gate to the kitchen garden. The rest of the story of Nathan is made up but it’s a good story showing the ingenuity of a boy my age finding a way to give a Christmas present to the Aboriginal children. Knowing my luck, I would have been caught giving the Aborigines some fish. And what would my punishment have been? Whipping was common then, I think.

  I’ve done all my homework, walked the dog and Dad let me watch a kid’s DVD – The Incredibles. It’s real kid’s stuff until I’m old enough to watch anything more exciting. Apparently 15 is the magic age for adult movies so I have five more years to go of watching kid’s stuff unless my parent
s supervise me. Mum rang in the middle of it so I told her all about our day at Grandma’s and how we went to the Ebden house and my story at school about Nathan. She told me she had had a relaxing day and hopes to move into the house next week, when the cleaners are finished. She’s been getting around on her bike but plans to have a car by the time we get there in about three weeks’ time. Wow, not long to go now. She and Dad talk forever and get a bit mushy but I return to the DVD and drown them out.

  That night I dream of being Nathan, inside the tall gate, sneaking out and going down to the beach via the tunnel. I can see some fishing boats already out at sea. Our fisherman invites me to join him and I let him get wet pushing the boat out.

  Soon, a change in the weather leaves us capsized and a long way from shore. I can’t swim so I desperately hang onto the hull of the boat. Our fisherman is nowhere to be seen and I give up calling out his name. The waves crash over me and I stop yelling to keep my mouth closed and not take in the salt water.

  It seems like ages but I’m rescued as I wake up, exhausted and thirsty. Maybe the ending to Nathan’s story was too good to be true.

  3 The Daring Things I Do.

  It’s just as well they get on so well because Dad has to pack everything up which he doesn’t really like doing. He’s nearly finished with his work and packed away his two printers and the binder.

  “Hopefully nobody asks for a paperback copy now that it’s packed away,’ said Dad. “I’m going to Sandringham on the train tomorrow to meet up with Sally who’s helping me with my new website. It looks promising and she’s using WordPress which I taught myself to use following Catherine Ryan Howard’s book Self printed. It was rather slow and some bits I skipped. But, I ended up with a blog.”

  “Okay Dad. I’d better take a key if I beat you home. I’ll get Johnny to come here and we can play DONKEY.”

  “Just watch out for cars. You know drivers can get really snarky if a ball hits them.’

  “I know. Once, a guy stopped and reversed. My mate ran off but I stood my ground and said ‘sorry’. He wasn’t quite calmed but drove off without touching me. Phew. Sometimes I can be brave and I don’t know where it comes from. I think it would have been worse if I had run away as well.”

  “I’m sure the driver would have been agitated trying to find where you lived, as I presume you would have run into someone else’s house.”

  “I didn’t think of that. Good point, Dad.”

  “Alright, off you go to school and have a great day.”

  “Thanks Dad. You, too.”

  Johnny caught up with me as I neared the end of the playground.

  “Come and climb some trees?” he said, “we’ve got time.”

  “Let me hand in my project first,” I said.

  I didn’t need any encouragement and after I handed in my vegie assignment, we raced each other to the end of the gum trees. We weren’t allowed to climb them because they were liable to crack and fall down. I beat Johnny to the top branch and it started swaying. By then some other kids had joined us, and we were having a great time when a loud voice rang out:

  “Johnny! Paul! Climb down now. And the rest of you. You know this is out of bounds!”

  And that’s when it happened. I stepped down onto a branch which gave way and tumbled me to the ground. I think the branch broke my fall but I didn’t know it at the time as I was knocked out.

  In sick bay the doctor and a nurse said I was only slightly concussed. It was nearly home time and I had missed a whole day of school. The principal was upset because he couldn’t get hold of Dad. I didn’t have his mobile number on me and Dad had only given the school our home number. The nurse offered to stay with me, and Johnny offered to wait at my house for Dad. I gave him our key so he could have some afternoon tea.

  I felt okay but the thought of facing Dad with what I had done, against school rules, might be a bit hard to pass over. He didn’t tolerate disobedience because it usually meant there was a good reason and I had no reason but the joy of climbing a tree. I don’t know why

  I like climbing trees, I really do. It’s like being on the roof and you can see a long way and into people’s yards. I hurt my ankles once jumping off a roof but it wasn’t as high as our roof. I love watching people go by and when they get a fright realising they’re being watched.

  We have a large gum tree in our backyard and when I was about four, I slipped over the first branch and landed on my head on the edge of the sandpit. I was out to it and woke up after the doctor had been, dressed in my pyjamas. I don’t know who found me but I guess they were pretty scared and I was forbidden to climb that tree again. I would wait until Dad went to work or picked up his Mum for Sunday lunch, and have another go at climbing. I was super careful and never fell again.

  Last year I built a tree house and Johnny and I would hide from everyone. It was okay to climb the tree now and Dad let me have bits of timber to build it. We even had a roof though it wasn’t watertight and leaked when it was raining heavily. We talked about lots of things, about what we were going to do when we were teenagers and the movies we would be able to see. Once I found a porn magazine in Dad’s shed and we laughed at all the jokes. The pictures did nothing for us.

  Another thing that interested us was the Boy Scouts. I’m going to do a search for them in Broome and get Dad to email them when we get there. We haven’t heard back from the tennis people so maybe there’s no one giving lessons. The Boy Scouts would be a good way to get to know people and learn skills and go camping. (Come on, Dad, come home so I can do a search for the Scouts.)

  4 Searching for Gold.

  At last, Dad turned up looking worried.

  “You okay, son?”

  “Yes, thanks, Dad. Only a bump on my head.”

  “You remember when you were four, and you fell out of the gum tree near the sand pit? I was the one who found your limp body and yelled to Mum to get the doctor. I was so worried but you just woke up like nothing had happened, except you had your pyjamas on.”

  “I don’t remember much of either incident. And I’m sorry to you and the principal for not obeying you and disappointing you.”

  “I’m sure everyone has learned an important lesson,” said the principal. “Go home now and have a quiet evening.”

  “Johnny was waiting for me and I sent him home,” said Dad. “You can tell him how you’re feeling tomorrow. Are you up to going to school tomorrow, Paul?”

  “Maybe,” thinking I could have a day at home with Dad but then he’d want to use his laptop. “If I stay home, may I use your laptop to look up the Boy Scouts and see if there’s a group in Broome?”

  “Yes, you can do that tonight. I need a break from computers after working on my website all afternoon. First, dinner for us and Lassie, and then packing for me. Lassie won’t mind missing out on a walk for one day.”

  I looked up Boy Scouts and found a group in Broome.

  1st Broome Scout Group is located at Orr St, Broome, WA 6725, may be emailed at gl.broome@scoutswa.com.au

  I’m nearly old enough to join the Scouts now – my birthday is in August. I downloaded the Scouts’ Manual and will look at the PDF file later. Too many words for me. Maybe I’ll ask Dad to do a summary. I’m getting excited about exploring new things when I get to Broome. I’ll miss my old neighborhood and Johnny and some parts of school. Of course, I’ll always have to do maths but I’ll be distracted by all the new things – a house, a car, a school, and the Scouts. Plus I’ll see my Mum every day except when she has to stay out bush with her work; and wear shorts every day because it’s so warm, even in the dry season. We didn’t tell her about my misadventure at school today.

  Mum was full of news of going bush to do a report. She travelled about 150 kms from Broome so they were away from the office the whole day. I would like that kind of job because it’s outdoors. That’s why I like the idea of the Scouts as they do lots of outdoor stuff. I wonder if the Broome group go sailing.

  It would
be cool to go fishing as there are lots of bays and ports and beaches but I guess Dad will have to ask Mum’s friend if we can go out on his boat. This guy’s family have been in Broome for nearly a year. They sold up their house in Victoria and got a huge caravan. I saw it before they left as there was a farewell party at the house of one of Mum’s friends who is presently working in the Torres Strait Islands. They all have the wanderlust and have settled into their work or hobbies.

  Another day at school and lots of ribbing about my falling out of the tree. The younger kids hold me in awe and say I fell 12 feet, at least. I don’t remember and have a slight headache for my trouble. Dad pussy-footed around me last night and kept me up til late to make sure I wasn’t going to go unconscious on him. The nurse had told him not to worry as I was only out for a short time but Dad likes to worry. It’s what boys do and have all the energy in the world to race and climb and kick footballs.

  I don’t know what all the fuss is about with older people saying we kids spend too much time indoors on our computers and games and not enough time playing outside. These oldies haven’t been to our house to see how much time I spend running around, especially after school. I’m not interested in playing games or watching TV and Dad encourages me to play football when Johnny has to be somewhere else. I love the evening time when the sun sets and sometimes leaves a red pattern in the clouds. We used to live near the beach so I guess Dad is happy to be going to a place where there is a great expanse of sea.

  That night I dreamt about flying from the highest tree at school and using my bat wings to glide down to the ground. Then I morphed into Superboy and flew over the Bay to the opposite side. But then I ran out of thermals and splashed into the water which woke me up.

  I tried to return to my adventure but ended up looking inside a plane load of people. They were pointing at me and I waved back. This was so cool. But then the plane banked to the left and I slid off the wing of the plane. My bat wings took their time levelling me out. I made it safely to the tree I had started from, then climbed down…into the arms of my father. Did he see me fly? He didn’t let on and said:

  ‘You must have been sleepwalking.’