When I was young and living in Richmond we had the world at our feet. Every morning we’d walk to school. Out the front door, down the lane, then left towards Punt Road. A short walk past the Royal Hotel, around the corner and head up the hill.  Once we got to Bridge Rd, we’d cross at the lights and on the other corner was Yarra Park Primary School.  We didn’t know at the time what a novelty it was back then. To go to school and be surrounded by children from every nation (it seemed). Greek, Italian, and Turkish were the most common ones, with a smattering of Egyptians and Africans thrown in. Back then being an Aussie was a novelty. We were the minority. This was a time when our differences weren’t pointed out to us. Where the word ‘wog’ hadn’t entered our vocabulary.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One of the best things about school was lunch time. We had a friend named Joe Barbagallo. His father had a pizza restaurant on Bridge Road and he’d sometimes come to the school with a fresh pizza straight from the oven for us to share for lunch. Our other friend Paul would sometimes get a visit from his father, who would stop at the fish and chip shop on the way and bring us some chips. I can’t see that happening today.

After school we’d walk home with Paul down Punt Road to Richmond Terrace. King Street where I lived was just around the corner off Punt Road. Sometimes we’d go the back way, and follow the lane that ran parallel to Punt Road, then head up Rowena Parade to get to Pauls house. A couple of times he took me through a lane near his house, just off Miller St. There were only houses on one side of the street but one stood out. It was the only one with a white brick fence. He told me that Kevin Sheedy lived there, with his brother. I never saw him myself, but Paul said he would often come out into the street and play footy with the kids. I was always envious of him. Not once did I doubt he was telling the truth. When I was older, when Kevin Sheedy no longer played for Richmond but was coaching the Bombers, I read his books. It seemed to me that Sheeds was exactly the type of bloke who would go out and have a kick with the kids in the street. I wish I had been around for that.

Back then we could pretty much come and go as we pleased. We’d get home from school, dump our bags, grab a bite, and head out again, with our mothers yelling at us to be home in time for tea. If we weren’t playing footy in the street, or the car park of the flats behind Pauls house (where rumour had it Peter McKenna lived), we’d just go off exploring. Once we found a house that had been burnt out. It didn’t look too bad from the outside but the inside was gutted. Most of the floor was gone, and parts of the roof. That became our playground for a few weeks until someone let slip to their parents what we were up to. Then the word got out and we were banned from ever going back.

Looking back, we were living at a time of transition. The old ways still held sway. There was a man who delivered the briquettes who had a yard on Tanner Street. I always thought his name was Half a. He’d go around with his horse drawn cart delivering the briquettes in winter. It wasn’t til later that I got around to reading the sign outside his yard. Arthur Gooch. Half a Gooch sounds better I reckon.

 

 

The best part of living in Richmond though was going to the footy every Saturday. It wasn’t til years later that I questioned it. Not the going, but the way we went about it. Why was it every Saturday morning we’d make the walk from our house in King St down passed Richmond Station, then up Swan St to the subway and to our grandmothers house in Chestnut St.? We only had to walk all the way back anyway to get to the MCG, which was just across the road from where we lived. But I never thought of that back then. We’d go to grandmas house, where she’d usually be packing the bag with sandwiches and cupcakes, and the cold cans of drink. And filling the thermos with tea for the grown ups.

Then we’d all walk back down Swan St towards Richmond station. Follow the train lines to Punt Rd, then cross into Yarra Park and walk through the wide open spaces to the gates of the MCG. Once inside we’d settle down for our sandwiches and cupcakes and enjoy the game. Which was easy to do back then. The Tigers didn’t lose too many games in the early seventies. And picked up a couple of premierships along the way, with a certain Kevin Sheedy being close to best on ground in ’74.