Julian's Honeymoon

A voice called my name as I walked to my van and trailer. I'd stopped on my way home to buy a bottle of mint sauce, in case the one in the pantry at home was low, to go with the Sunday dinner roast leg of lamb I was much looking forward to. Daylight was fading, I was hungry, and I wanted unload the trailer of the prunings from Pat Atzmuller's garden before dark.

Turning to the voice I saw Julian getting out of his car. We met halfway between the vehicles and began conversation, starting with the weather. Julian, who is always well up to date with weather forecasts, said there was supposed to be about 50ml of rain over the next few days. He wanted it to hold off for a bit till they had some more spuds out.

Julian likes a yarn usually, other times he'll grunt a greeting. He may have spent a pleasant hour or two in the pub that afternoon, his eyes were wide and he smiled freely. With the story of Joe's father's windfall of 1956 fresh in my mind, I asked Julian why the price of potatos was so high that year.

"Floods, floods everywhere, they couldn't get spuds dug anywhere else. Fortune smiled on this area. There's been other times when the price was high. In October 1965 the phone rang at 4.00am on a Friday morning. I was living at Dad's. I got up and went to the phone on the wall in the hall, that's where the phone always was then, wondering who the hell was ringing."

"It was Nick San Delucia, the big potato merchant in Melbourne." He said, 'Have you dug those #*#*#*# spuds yet?' I told him they were still in the ground. They were Exton, a variety with long dormancy and slow to shoot, they would be OK for weeks. He asked how many did I think there was. I told him about 16 tons, it was a paddock of one and three quarter acres. He said, If you dig 'em this weekend I'll send two trucks to pick 'em up 3.00 Sunday arvo, and I'll pay you 10 quid a bag, cash.' This was before decimal currency."

"A mill worker or farm labourer at the time earned 7 quid a week, maybe a public servant got ten. We got into the digging. I finished up with 17 tons, at 15 bags to the ton that was 255 bags. At ten quid a bag I had 2,550 quid cash in my pocket at the end of the weekend. Marg and I were engaged at the time. The very next day I went round to an old bloke's 2 bedroom cottage in Williamson's Rd., I'd heard he'd wanted to sell. He said he wanted 1800 pounds, I pulled the money out of my back pocket, counted out 1800 and gave it to him. Marg and I spent two weeks on Hayman Island on our honeymoon and still had money left over.

"Bill Parker asked me the other day what a ton of spuds was bringing and I told him $400. He said, 'Gee, that's good.' I said, 'you're a **#*#** Bill, you used to sell a bag of certified seed potatoes for 50 quid a bag in the 1960's.' People have selective memory."

"I'd better go Julian, I've got roast lamb for dinner."

"Hang on a minute," he said, "I haven't told you what I wanted to yet. Years ago, I can't remember what year, my great aunt, Lorna Smith, died in her 100th year. Frank Heritage of Heritage Funerals in Healesville did the service and after most people had left the cemetery there was Frank and me and Bill Parker and his mother still at the the graveside. Old Mrs.Parker, also in her 100th year, walked around, grabbed a handful of earth and threw it down onto the coffin. Frank Heritage said to her, 'And how old are you dear?' She looked at him carefully and replied slowly, 'In nine months, I'll be a hundred years old.' Frank looked greatly impressed and said, 'Goodness me, it's hardly worth you going home.'

As we parted laughing, Julian said Mrs. Parker also died the same year, shortly before her 100th birthday.