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Pat Ritter. Books

Post by patritter » Wed May 08, 2024 4:30 pm

'Dream Angel' - Page 13:
I applied for a position as a station mechanic on Dyvenor Downs, a million-acre property west of Cunnamulla. When the lady at the unemployment bureau told me about the position on a property west of Cunnamulla, I thought Cunnamulla of all places, was this meant to happen for a reason? Over the years I’d listened to many stories from Mam when she worked on ‘Wirragen Station’ an outstation on Dyvenor Downs and I was about to return to the same property.
I knew nothing about sheep or cattle and knew less about life in the west with the sun as hot as one hundred and twenty degrees in the water bag. Before I left on the Westlander I listened to more stories from most of my relatives who lived in Cunnamulla and were born there. Was it a sign I was returning home?
Cunnamulla was a busy place being at the end of the railway line. Jacky the mail contractor delivered the mail from Cunnamulla to Thargomindah. There is an old saying told by people in the west to always remind a visitor whenever you cross the Warrego River you will cross it again. He dropped me off at Dyvenor Downs homestead.
‘Thanks for the lift mate, I’ll see you around.’ I said as I slid down from the front seat of the mail truck.
‘You sure will. Once you’ve crossed the Warrego, you’ll cross it again and again.’ Jacky croaked in his western drawl. He drove off and left me to choke in a cloud of dust.
So, this was Dyvenor Downs, one million acres and one thousand kilometres west of Brisbane in the outback. It was rugged, harsh climate as I watched the artesian bore water spew out of the ground into drains then snake its way through paddocks to water the stock.
There were flies, millions of them. Each step needed the Australian wave to swish them away from my eyes and face with either hand all in one motion. What it was about the bush had beckoned me, I wondered...

Pat Ritter. Books

Post by patritter » Tue May 07, 2024 2:02 pm

'Dream Angel' - Page 12:
I became a tradesman as a fitter & turner at twenty-one years old. My desire to be a detective never died. It was now my turn to join the Queensland Police Force and this time I didn’t need anyone’s permission.
In those days when you joined the Queensland Police Force you went to the front desk at Petrie Terrace Police Barracks in Brisbane and requested to join. I sat an entrance examination of spelling; grammar; writing and a medical examination and failed all four. They must have got it wrong, I thought, it’s only grade 8 education to pass and I failed. I was guttered.
Before I left, a Sub-Inspector wanted to speak with me. He was concerned. My name was cross indexed with other members of the Queensland Police Force and my mother’s cousin, who oversaw the Mounted Police Unit at Oxley, verified my relationship to him. The Sub-Inspector wanted to help me.
Electric welding had weakened the sight to my left eye to 10-20 vision. Spelling was shocking. I received three out of twenty marks. I couldn’t spell scissors, nuisance, and a few other words. He asked me one question; do you want to be a police officer? My answer was a definite YES! I’ve wanted it since I was eight years old, I told him. You’ll need to go to an eye specialist to have your eyes examined; purchase a grade 8 spelling book and memorise each word and read as many books as you can. Come back and try again were his final words.
I made an appointment to see an eye specialist and after a thorough examination he gave me a letter to show my eyes were perfect. I purchased a grade 8 spelling book to memorise each word.
Life at home with my parents was uncomfortable. I needed to escape...

Pat Ritter. Books

Post by patritter » Mon May 06, 2024 3:43 pm

Dream Angel' - Page 11:
It was a ritual and I didn’t want to change anything. Up until this time I’d never placed a wager as large as this one.
The horses left the saddling enclosure and Prunda looked magnificent. He pranced along the track to the starting gate. Prunda looked graceful as he jogged to the barrier in front of the crowd; his neck bowed with his chin pressed hard against his chest, a real athlete. His brown coat glowed in the afternoon sun; his jockey looked confident and relaxed.
Each horse took their place in the starting barrier at the opposite side of the racetrack. The starter moved onto the starting platform. After he made certain all the horses were in line and ready, a red light flashed. The starter pressed the starting button, the barriers opened together and the horses exploded from the barriers as one.
In previous races Prunda always led, but this time he had more weight to carry so his jockey eased him back into the field. Desert Glance was behind him waiting for Prunda to make his move. Around the turn they came and the thunder of the horses’ hoofs echoed through the grandstand.
Prunda hit the front, cheers rose from the crowd; my heart almost ripped out of my chest when I saw Prunda’s jockey ride like the champion jockey he is, I knew he’d win. One furlong to go Desert Glance came up beside Prunda. I felt my throat thicken with fear. Prunda accelerated. Desert Glance went with him and was on his good side, the one with the eye. Prunda crossed the winning line in first position. I won four weeks wages. What a win. I felt sad for my uncle and his father.
In the final year of my apprenticeship my parents returned to live in Queensland. My mother was ill and needed to be near a doctor. She developed a kidney disease through taking Bex powders. Eventually the drug in the Bex powders destroyed her kidneys. She was sick for many years and still was Mum and I loved her and the more she fought the disease the worse it became. I was sickened to see her body fall away to skin and bones and there was little I could do to help...

To Purchase this book click https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/5928

Pat Ritter. Books

Post by patritter » Mon May 06, 2024 3:41 pm

Dream Angel' - Page 10:

To wager a bet you need to have nerves of steel, belief in yourself and a good judgement on the form of horse racing. I had neither. Over the previous couple of weeks, I’d saved ten dollars to bet on Prunda to win. I knew he would win. He trained on the mudflats at Nudgee Beach and the race was named The International Stakes; the jockey came from England to ride in front of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth 11. Apart from Prunda having only one eye, his left eye, he was blind in the other, what could go wrong?
Uncle Vivian’s father had a horse in the same race. Her name Desert Glance and the family came to the track to punt on her. Was I the traitor for wanting to punt on Prunda?
When you first think of punting a horse, you work out how much money you have; look at the starting price with the bookmakers; work out the amount you want to wager and part with your money by giving it to the bookmaker and they give you a betting slip.
Prunda was priced at 5-1, that is, for one dollar I punted on Prunda I received five times the amount plus the wager if he won. Desert Glance showed odds of 40-1 and if I bet one dollar on her I received forty times plus the wager if she won.
My final decision was to have a wager of five dollars each way on Prunda at odds of 5-1. If Prunda didn’t win I covered my bet by having a wager of five dollars a place on him to run either second or third. One of the first lessons to learn in punting is never change your mind. I did.
Each time I watched a race at the track I always walked to the same spot near the finishing post and stood holding my hands together, not in prayer, but to control the nerves...

Pat Ritter. Books

Post by patritter » Sun May 05, 2024 12:46 pm

'Dream Angel' - Page 9:
The Personnel Officer, Mr Robinson invited me into his office. He sat behind a large deck with papers neatly piled on either side. I sat across from him. He asked me what I wanted. I felt confused and nervous. I didn’t feel confident and muttered if there were any positions for an apprentice fitter & turner for the forthcoming year.
He told me there were three positions available. I wanted one. I don’t know where the courage came from to speak but I sold myself. He looked at the sliding bevel and asked many questions about how I made it. He asked about my school marks. I didn’t have a report card to show him but I reassured him I was doing fine at school. It was a little white lie. What he didn’t know didn’t hurt him I thought. I left satisfied he would keep me in mind.
When the letter arrived at home with my indenture papers to become an apprentice fitter & turner Dad couldn’t believe it. I’d done it on my own and it felt great. He wanted me to be a lad porter on the railway but the apprenticeship was more important. The following year I commenced work as an apprentice and it pleased my father.
Shortly after my sixteenth birthday my parents left Queensland to live in New South Wales. By this time, our family had grown to six. I now had another sister and I was homeless. I moved in with my Uncle Vivian and Aunty Mickey and their family. Aunty Mickey is Mum’s younger sister.
Uncle Vivian’s father trained thoroughbred racehorses and I loved going to the stables to help clean the horse boxes of manure and urine and wished one day I would own a racehorse. The thoroughbred is an elegant, muscular animal standing tall always alert. It was an exciting time in my life, especially as a teenager.
Saturday was race day and I went to the races. I loved the sport. Thoroughbred racing is the best sport in the whole world. The year was 1967, the event The International Stakes at Eagle Farm Racecourse in Brisbane, the horse Prunda and jockey Lester Piggott. Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth 11 visited Australia and was present for the race and would present a trophy to the winner. I was excited and ready. I loved to bet on the horses. I think it was a gene I inherited from my mother’s side of the family...

To Purchase this book click https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/5928

Pat Ritter. Books

Post by patritter » Fri May 03, 2024 8:37 am

'Dream Angel' - Page 8:
I again developed problems with study. I could read the literature but I couldn’t understand what all the words meant although I enjoyed making things when I attended manual training. In a metalwork class I made a sliding bevel which is an instrument used to measure a mark an angle on a piece of wood or metal.
It was at this time my English teacher Mr Imoff gave me a pat-on-the-back and the words he said at the time has had a profound affect on my life. After he’d read a composition I’d written, he said you have a gift for writing. I didn’t understand what he meant. I thought at the time the word gift meant I didn’t need to learn English.
He went on to say you are unique, you write the way you speak and it is a gift. I didn’t understand if I should have been excited about what he said, or think I possessed a gift. I often think back to the time and wish now I did understand more of what he told me and learned to write and understand literature more at the time. It wasn’t to be. It was a time when I knew I wanted to become a policeman and nothing else mattered.
Was the timing, right? Should I experience more in life? Was I ready to fulfil my dream? I hate to admit the fact but when I look back in time now, I think my father made the right decision for me not to join the police at fifteen years of age whether he wanted to or not.
After the banishment from Dad to not allow me to join the police force, I returned to school bewildered and disappointed. A student at school told me Olympic Tyre & Rubber Company at Geebung was looking for students who wanted to be an apprentice as a fitter and turner in the forthcoming year.
Instead of going to school I rode my bicycle from Deagon to Geebung about 10 kilometres. It was August and I didn’t have a report card to show the Personnel Officer only the sliding bevel I’d made at school...

Pat Ritter. Books

Post by patritter » Thu May 02, 2024 8:17 am

'Dream Angel' - Page 7:
Roma was a great town to grow up as a child, a country atmosphere where everyone knew one another and my life was trouble free. I was in grade 6 when my parents sold their home and moved to Brisbane.
Dad worked as a storeman for Queensland Railway Department at Redbank workshops. I’ve always wondered why we left at this time of my life. Was it my destiny? Or was it a time in my life to move onto the next place?
We lived at Graceville a Brisbane western suburb. Graceville State School became my new school. I had problems at school. It was scholarship year, grade 8 and I must admit I didn’t like school. When I look back now with a wiser mind and more life experience, it wasn’t I didn’t like school it was more I didn’t know how to study or understand what I needed to study. To progress onto High School in those times you needed to pass scholarship. I was lucky and passed with 52%. How I passed, I do not know.
High School I remember well. My mother came with me to work out which subjects I needed to study. There were the usual academic subjects and at the time three courses to choose from: academic, industrial, or commercial.
At 13 years old I wanted to be a policeman but there wasn’t any set course for the profession. The closest course was commercial only girls did to prepare them for office work. My mother chose industrial course of woodwork, metalwork, and trade drawing. I spent one year at Corinda High School in sub-junior.
The following year our family moved to Deagon, a seaside suburb. I was in junior year at Sandgate State High School and did not cope well. What was it about school? ...

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