Kerry's Memories

Prologue

My memories of childhood will surely, as the years separate us in age, be different from those of my sisters and brother. My childhood spanned a different era, not only from the point of view of my date of birth but in terms of family life in general. I sometimes think that Alzheimer's has already set in because for some odd reason I don't have huge recollections of my early childhood - I must have led a protected or quiet life in those days.

Kerry Leslie Henley Johnstone - yes that's me - you know "the youngest, the baby of the family, my little boy - you know all those tags associated with being born last!
Born 1 July 1952, mother present, father absent but to this day my second middle name is synonymous with what I suspect was a closer relationship with my father than that held by my brother or sisters - he had for a start more free time to spend with me. Anyway Dad was coxing the NZ Four at the Henley on Thames Regatta in England, on his way to the Helsinki Olympic Games. Unknown to neither Dad, nor myself for that matter, Mum decided to give me a lifetime memory or was it a legacy, by throwing in the name Henley. The number of times I had to spell or explain Henley could well have left me rich at $1.00/time.

On reflection my early life fell into three distinct time zones
Wanganui - 1952 to 1960
Paekakariki - 1961 to 1965
Wanganui - 1966 to 1974

Recollections of my younger years has more to do with "things" rather than "events", so here goes.

Chapter 1

32 Kings Avenue, Wanganui.

The worlds largest bedroom ( for all 5 of us to share either in beds or bunks ) - My children do not believe it could be possible. Even later on in life I shared a bedroom with Gary and only now do I realise how hard that must have been on him - four years of teenage maturity is probably a life time.

The worlds largest lemon tree which actually provided great ammunition for those wars with the infamous Hunts from across the back fence. Bamboo that made the best bows and arrows in Gonville. Glow worms in the backyard - how cool was that !!
The worlds largest back yard, or so I thought, that was filled with various fruit tress, again a great source of ammunition for those war years. It took forever to mow for zero pocket money. It did however have the advantage of being able to kick the odd rugby ball around and I do recall one famous "Don Clarke" up and under landing directly on top of the next door neighbour's sharp iron fence with a somewhat disastrous result. Mum told me how she heard numerous "fully commentated" test matches taking place on "Athletic Park" Oh the joys of youth, being able to be player, captain, referee and commentator all at the same time - being able to guarantee every move, kick and try being scored to perfection was something I remember mastering

The long and somewhat skinny garage with the turning lathe that I never saw operating but somehow didn't need to in order to admire it for some odd reason, and the special little opening window above the vice at the end of the shed - well the saw had to go somewhere!

The lavender bush fed by endless trips to it with the teapot leaves, the rose garden, the tiered terraces, the fernery and again another enigma with the sunken walkway complete with central birdbath that took one all of 15 seconds to walk around. The napalm trees in the front yard and I still recall the falling of the largest and last of those spiny beasts. But you guessed it - soon scooped of, turned into a concrete birdbath with those glass inserts that had laid collected & stored in the shed for years. My Mums hoarding trait stemmed back all those years but I guess that was a reflection on not being well off financially.

My sisters have memories of Auntie Tina who lived across the road. Whilst I remember her back yard, her small kitchen, dining room and lounge I also remember her front door. On News Years day it was considered lucky for the Scottish if the first person to knock on the door was a young dark haired male delivering a piece of coal. To this day Lord knows why but that is something I remember doing.

My repeating nightmare. I have vivid memories of going through a period of a repetitive nightmare that went along the lines of me seeing a truck owned by the "bogeyman" - now there's a term entrenched in my brain - starting at the top of Kings Ave. and "coming to get me". He invariably did and after reading Sandra's memoirs perhaps its linked in some way to the food truck that obviously frequented our street.

Doctor Murray - another name another memory - my most serious trip to the doctors was when Dad ran over me in the car - well over my leg more precisely. Riding on the car's running board was surely outlawed by my mother after that incident!

Chapter 2

Nothing like wandering away from the theme and onto All Homes/Sport!

The secret box with the secret compartments that held those most secret papers. All I knew was that the brown box with the little brass inserts was to be "first out" in case of fire and disaster. Another box that frequented our house contained Dad's orange rowing megaphone. It still exists, as does the secret box. I think the first of those two boxes also contained Dad's Olympic competitors and British Empire Games medals, and on reflection they held significant importance to him as his British Empire Games gold medal does to me this day - a link - a sporting tie. I digress but this is probably why I had a different relationship with my father - SPORT. Dad loved his sport and so did I. We had a common interest of mainly rugby, cricket and golf, but also of any other sport invented by man, and after he stopped rowing I guess he had time to spend that he did not have for the others before, and also by that time my brother & sisters were teens requiring their own space.

My recollection of rugby & golf are strongest. The infamous test match at Athletic Park, complete with pie and drinks and the subsequent donation of that pie and drink to NZ Rail. My selection at 1st five in the Western Bay Rep team - to my father's obvious delight as sole representative from his Paekakariki Team. The subsequent Rep Matches, decked out in an exact duplicate of Springbok colours, then secondary school rugby - a new position as wing - outside the worlds slowest backline and my subsequent two bouts of concussion that lead to my premature retirement. I'm sure I would have been an All Black!

Golf - I turned to golf following a brief caddying career and an odd game or two with Dad, Des Simonsen and Les Clark (Two of Dad's rowing friends). From then golf became an integral part of my 15-19 age era, and to a lesser extent beyond. Every spare moment was spent on the golf Course where some great friendships were formed and great people met. The best handicap I reached was 4 and I vividly recall the day, in response to a challenge made by Dad. I shot a 2 under par 68. Returning home for lunch, I proudly showed Dad my scorecard and as promised he coughed up the $2 for shooting below par. I went out to golf again in the afternoon, shot another 68, collected another $2 and from that day on incentives were cancelled.
I played golf at Tawhero, Wanganui and Castlecliff and my handicap generally hovered between 5-7 and only later in life did my lack of practice and course time see my handicap slide, but in due course I won my one and only club championship title, Intermediate Handicap (9-14).

Through golf I met my Big Grandads second wife, Cam. It was not until I was an "adult" did I become privy to the ins and outs of the affairs revolving around my grandfathers, divorce, death and subsequent will contesting, but Cam was actually a pleasant lady and one day she gave me a couple of Grandads belongings, including his trout fishing rod and watch. The watch sits in the my drawer needing repair. The last time it had repairs it was difficult to find a watchmaker prepared to undertake the task and when I finally did get it fixed, the watchmaker said he never wanted to see it again. So it has a few extras on it. So what!!

I cannot forget to mention my Mum - could I ever? I struggle to recall a lot about Mum, during the times when I was young, and think I formed a much closer relationship with her in later years and those are my "lasting" memories. Unfortunately I do remember her migraines and the periods to which she was confined to bed. Mum to me was always caring and sharing and truly looked after us as only a mum does. This was probably typified when I was about 19. Being young, knowledgeable and certainly manly enough to hold my liquor I had an experience at the golf club with Gin. It is fair to say that since that night I have personally outlawed Gin from ever entering my body again. Anyway I had a few too many and as the last committee member left the clubhouse he decided to turn the lights out in the toilets, only to discover a pair of feet protruding from under the cubicle door. Unable to arouse me he climbed the cubicle doors and "dragged" me to safety. Unfortunately I think the toilet bowl was my safety line and after much effort from Keith (my rescuer) Dad was summoned to collect me. I am told I was very sick and abusive to my parents, but in good old Mum fashion she saw me to bed, soothed my head, gave me a bowl and checked on my well being for hours ahead. She never balled me out and her only advice was a simple "I hope you have learnt your lesson". She rarely got "angry" cross.

Anyway I must get back on track

Chapter 3

Paekakariki

A great place for a 10-13 year old boy to live and my recollections include making sleds from scraps of wood gathered from who knows where, spending countless hours candle waxing the runners for those exhilarating rides down the nearby hills, the eeling, the paddocks, the sea, the Pukerua Bay fishing rocks where all you ever caught was rocks. No wonder I'm not keen on fishing with my boys. The freedom even at that age to go anywhere without concern. The first TV, the bout of sunstroke and its lifelong consequences, the school, weekly war comics, home made wooden replica guns (German Sten was my favourite) - I could go on forever

Chapter 4

Back to Wanganui

Secondary School - The full stint one might say 3rd -7th form inclusive. I did not pass school certificate with flying colours, by any stretch of the imagination, and as a result I probably worked hardest of my schooling life in the 6th form to get University Entrance Accredited - what a relief not to have to sit more of those dreaded exams. So university here I come, with just another year in the 7th form to go. The 7th form was a real struggle. Maybe it was too hard, maybe golf was more important but by end of mid-year exams I knew that was to be my lot. Unfortunately in those days most job intakes were at the start of the year so before I could leave school I had to endure 5 -6 months of disinterest. I sometimes wonder how I ever remained a School Prefect and recall the odd reminder from the Principal that if I did not buckle under and work until the end of the year Higher School Leaving Certificate would not be granted. The threat worked.

Wanganui Boys College - Single sex school. Still traditional until my 7th form year strict rules, haircut regulations that were checked weekly, caps, socks always up prefects school councilors (all state police trained!), houses, Platoons, Platoon Leaders, standup assemblies, street marching behind the school pipeband and brass band and very dated buildings. Great sports field though!

My next phase - Left school and trundled off to Wellington to start my career in Quantity Surveying. I boarded with Dawn in Porirua for the year and travelled most weekends back to Wanganui to play the love of my life. Weekdays comprised a mixture of work and study and Wellington Polytech. At the end of the year I returned to Wanganui and took up position on the Wanganui Office of MOW. Study continued via correspondence and I completed the five-year course, 25 exams, to achieve NZCQS.

Another relief milestone reached.

Golf, lots of fun times and then it happened. I met what was to become my next and everlasting love of my life - Chris.

Epilogue

Golf was never so important again. I guess that is another whole story and now I must start my second book in what will probably be a trilogy of epic proportions.

See you soon!!

Kerry Leslie HENLEY Johnstone