A chat with Jock at the Tailem Bend Hotel, South Australia.

"I was born up the river at Mannum, all my rellies are from over there, but I left to find work. I started out working in a roadhouse and then working on a broccoli farm but then I got work at an iron foundry in Adelaide.

I was carrying  a shank all day, full of liquid metal weighing 150 pounds at a time for 8 hours a day.  Between 6 men we’d carry 191,000 pounds of metal a day. Was good money.  In ‘74 I was knocking out 370 bucks a week, which was great money in those days. But it fucked your spine. That’s why I got this walking stick now. Used to be my dad’s when his back went. He said to me, ‘I’m going to leave this with you when I die because you’re going to need it to.’ And he was right.

This old walking stick is my most constant companion now. That and my hat. My hat’s the first thing on in the morning and the last thing I take off at night. Inside, outside, wherever, I wear my hat. I

wear them out, until they’re just holes held together with felt. I’ve got the previous one hanging in the hall at home.

A hat says a lot about a person. Look at that Barnaby Joyce. If a man hasn't sweated through a hat, he hasn't worked. You can see from my hat I do a bit of work, eh?

When you buy them they’re just a dome top with no shape. It’s an akubra and then you bash them into any shape you want and this shape that I like with the furrow down the middle is called the western bash. One day I was outside in the pissing down rain and fixing something and then thought it was about beer time so I went to the fridge and when I bent down to get a stubby this river of water ran out of the furrow into the fridge.

I’m a creature of habit, always the same type of hat, always the same walking stick, always drink the same beer and I always sit in this seat. Well, when I can. If I come in and someone’s here, I just settle somewheres else until they leave.

Some people get far more, like, territorial about their seats in pubs. One time when I was in Sydney in the 70’s I think it was and I went into a pub and it was empty and all the seats were different and so I grabbed a beer and sat down and I was halfway through it when a bloke came in and got a beer and came over to me and said you’re in my seat and I looked at him and said, ‘what has it got your

fucking name on it?’

He said, ‘well matter of fact yes it has, here on the back.’

So I got up and had a look and his name was written on the back and I said, ‘sorry mate, I’m from out of town and never been here before so I didn't know the laws,’ and he said, ‘that’s why all the seats are different. We all bring our own seats here and they’re ours. You’re welcome to sit in them when we’re not here but when we arrive you have to get out. House rules.’ So I moved to the next one and had a drink with him. He was a decent bloke so long as you weren’t sitting in this seat!”

Frank the boss gets me another what the south aussies call a, ‘schooner’ of lite and a second West End for Jock.

“I always drink the west end draught here but when I go home I drink Southwark coz they don't have southwark on tap. I only ever have two. Never three. No point in risking it driving 14 kays home when I know there’s coldies of Southwark waiting for me in the fridge.

Jock’s worked behind the bar here at the Taliem Bend Hotel a couple of times over the 30 years he’s been coming through the front door and in that time there’s only been two publicans.

“Frank was here when I started drinking here and he sold it about 25 years ago to a bloke who was a public servant and who thought he could run a pub. He did a bit a right but toward the end he was buggered, completely over it.

I got on alright with him but a lot of people didn't

Wolfgang was his name and one day I asked him for a loan. I needed five grand to buy a thing and I asked him if he’d be able to help me and he said, let me think about it and he walked away and then came back with an envelope and gave me the money. No collateral, no security, just trust. I got it all back to him as quick as I could. Yeah, he was a good man but just didn't have all the skills to run a pub like this. Monday I gave it back to him.

Last time when my back shot itself I went in and saw the doctor and he was putting up all these x-rays and I told him to forget the medical talk and tell me what the problem was in my sort of language.

So he asked me what year I was born in and I said 1949 and he said, ‘Well the FJ Holden came out in 1949 and so you’re a worn out, run down FJ Holden.’ He was a bit wrong, the FX was the first Holden and it came out in 48 and the FJ didn't come out until 53. He didn't know cars perfectly but he fucking knew backs!