OLD FRED:

Old Fred lived with his dog on a farm alongside the
railway tracks, deep in the forest. He traveled in &
out along dirt tracks that lead to the back of the
council estate that overlooked the West side of town.
This was the 60’s, dynamic modern times, Pop art,
the Beatles, Mini Skirts, Mini-Mokes, the Prisoner,
Swinging London. Fred’s mode of transport was a horse
& cart, affording him the luxury of being able to fall
asleep at the wheel & arrive without incident – a dyed
in the wool outsider.
As kids we would pile onto the back of Jackie Bishop’s
trailer (Jackie had the farm in the forest clearing,
I loved listening to the sound of his generator late at
night & watch his house lights flicker through the trees)
he would pull us by tractor down to Fred’s, delivering
supplies in exchange for Cornflake tokens,
“Presents for the children”. As I remember his house,
how dark it was even in summer, I recall there being no
light switches, no electricity, not even a diesel generator
chugging away in the yard, every room light by a single oil
lamp hung from the rafters, his brown felt hat pulled down
around his ears like an upturned flowerpot even indoors.
he looked ancient, held together by bailing twine & heavy
tweed. I found a photograph of him, a cutting from the local
newspaper, in it he looks exactly as I remember him & no older
than forty.

(K)