ROBERT AT MURRAY ROBERTS

Not quite the name and logo but almost

Richard of RBB, the custodian of that old blog RICHARD'S BASS BAG, in a recent comment on THE DARKER CURMUDGEON asked if there would be an expose of Robert in his days as a Murray Robert's delivery truck driver.

For those of you who are up to pace with modern media and who are followers of latest trends and the more fashionable side of social media, RICHARD'S BASS BAG is one of those old format blogs where the writer witters on about things he does during the day - gets up, goes to the toilet, drinks instant coffee, plays with himself plays solo music on his double bass etc. You get the picture. It's kind of like one of those old Smith's bookstore and stationers, the ones that have now closed down or like a shabby community library where only derelicts hang out in to keep warm and pee in the corner.

Anyway, I've wracked my brains to think of things that Robert did as a delivery driver - the memory is a bit fuzzy, but here goes:

Careless driving one

Once Robert was driving the small Bedford truck in Newtown, near the Winter show buildings.
He had just done a delivery to the John Street council flats and had to collect a lot of empty bottles in soggy cartons. He wasn't pleased and drove faster than he should have. when he hit a bump in the road several of the cartons 'jumped out' from the back of the truck and the contents smashed on the ground, scaring pedestrians. Robert hurriedly stopped the truck in the middle of the road and picked up the bigger pieces of glass and cardboard, threw them onto the back of the truck and drove on.

Careless driving two

Once Robert was driving the large flat-deck Bedford down from the Hataitai tunnel to the Basin Reserve. As the lights were green and just turning yellow he accelerated and took the turn left, mounting the footpath and scattering pedestrians. Robert drove on back to base in Adelaide Road.





Drinking and driving

On Saturday afternoons the biggest delivery was to the James Cook hotel where usually a full truckload of beer and some spirits and soft drink was delivered. The beer was always DB Export in cartons of 24 bottles. After unloading and carrying the cartons up stairs to the store room Robert would accept a free beer and sit down enjoying it knowing that his co-workers would be flat out back at base. Robert didn't care.

Tagging

Once Robert wrote "STEVE IS A BRIKEHEAD" on one of the the walls in the warehouse. Robert thought that he did this anonymously but every one knew it was him by the misspelling.


Vandalism

Robert used to throw the glass marker pens at the walls and celing of the warehouse to make 'Jackson Pollock' - like splashes.

Pinching

Bruce said to take a bottle of wine home to try with tea and learn about wine. Bruce meant a decent New Zealand or Australian wine. Willy, 2IC re-interpreted and instructed that as cheap New Zealand wine like Baco 22A (about 99c. a bottle). Robert ignored both of those instructions and took home Chateaux Margaux.

Skiving

Robert used to stop off during deliveries and do his washing at a laundromat in Hataitai. He used to sit and study his university books for about an hour and a half while the clothes were washing and drying. The delivery truck was parked outside on the yellow lines.


That's just from the 'top of the head'.
No doubt Richard could add some. We could actually ask Robert but I feel that his memory might be dodgy.

THE KING IS WORRIED

KINGS

The King hasn't been sleeping well recently. The King (self-proclaimed) was leader of The White Sport Coat and Pink Carnation Society (WSCPCS) back at university in the 1970s (yes Robert - the 1970s). The King has been watching recent news reports that are exposing sexual abuse by men who have had positions of power over the last 50 years or so. Hollywood moguls, British politicians, actors, businessmen, news gurus - everywhere women (and some men) are coming out and laying complaints against these people for assaults that go back many years.

The King is worried.

Unnecessarily so.

If the King was to exercise his memory properly he would remember that the WSCPCS was spectacularly unsuccessful in attracting nubile young women, or indeed any women, to its social activities. There was zero chance that the King had got his hands on, or even his eyes on a woman.

He is safe and should sleep properly.

*************************

The Curmudgeon can sleep properly.

DON'T TAKE YOUR GUNS TO (VOGEL)TOWN SON......

........ LEAVE YOUR GUNS AT HOME GLENN.

The As  lived up Moffitt Street, a little bit further away than the 'Vogeltown Boys' but on occasion would join us in after school games.
The two boys, Gary and Glenn were about the same age as us - in this story about 8  - but always seemed to have more and better toys, clothes, sports gear etc. than us. They were working class as well but their dad was a taxi driver so maybe, being a cash business he skimmed and didn't pay as much tax as the rest of our dads.

More likely though was that he was making money in the (gasp) underworld.
Old man A went to prison for 'helping to procure an abortion'. I don't know what the exact charge was but it was one of those that featured in The Truth the salacious weekly news rag of the day.

Mum used to tell dad off for buying this so he kept it in his truck where my brother and I would sneak a read.
Being a taxi driver meant that A senior would have made extra money from taking customers to illegal drinking establishments and brothels as well. This is how Gary and Glenn had all the goodies.

One day, as I said when we were about 8 we'd been playing cowboys and Indians and the As, as usual, had all the gear. They had cowboy hats, vests and 'chaps' with frills. They also had guns and holsters. These guns weren't the crappy plastic ones that the rest of us owned. These were made of metal. The only plastic was the white grip covering. The guns had heft - weight and size and had revolving chambers that could carry six caps that actually worked. The gun belts were made of leather and the holsters (each kid had two) actually held the guns properly.
They must have cost a fortune.


The next morning, before school, I was mooching around trying to delay going to school as long as I could when I saw one of these guns lying in the grass. I went and picked it up. It was wet with the morning dew and I remember thinking how bad it was for Gary or Glenn to not look after such a valuable item - I'd never do that - and then found the matching gun. I was about to take them up to the house so we could return them but then thought no, they didn't deserve them I hid them in the garage instead.

After school I sneaked them out and played with them on my own as I couldn't tell anyone about having them. The next day Mrs A came to our house asking if we'd seen the guns. I denied having seen them of course. Mrs A didn't seem satisfied but couldn't prove anything though. I think she thought that my poor mother was involved in the theft which is unfair of her - well, unfair of me really. I kept the guns but discovered that it wasn't much fun playing with them surreptitiously and eventually lost interest. I also felt guilty.

I can't remember what happened to these toys as I soon outgrew them. For a while I felt bad about keeping them but being a kid, that didn't last that long. I don't know if I confessed in the confessional. I usually only made stuff up to please the priest in those days