When we walked from the farm to the Longwarry State School we didn't really take the long way but we could make the two miles or so take a very long time.

I remember quite clearly going to school for the first time, in 1951. I was quite looking forward to it, and I was excited when mum sat me on the little seat behind hers on her bicycle. We went down Hammond Rd to the Longwarry Rd, at the bottom of the big hill and we seemed to get to Longwarry in no time. We went over the railway crossing with it's white timber gates and then up past the Post Office on Bennett St and down McCrae St to the school.
Mum introduced me to Ivy Pump, the prep and grade one teacher in that little four-classroom school. Ms Pump – to this day I don't know whether she was married or not – was a kindly lady but she told me to just go out and play until the bell went, and then come to the outside door near the classroom. That was how we did 'orientation' in school back then, and it worked quite well.
I'm sure mum would have said goodbye to me but I can't remember it.
She had told me the way to get home and I knew it well enough anyway from walking down to the town a good few times before, to catch the train as a rule.
I had to go up Bennett St to Boxshall Rd, which I see is now called Boxshall's Rd. I would get up on the railway line embankment at the substation there and head up the line to the bottom of what we called the railway paddock. One climb through the fence, one crossing of the creek and uphill to the cowshed, through the breezeway and thus to the house.
I now see that the creek on our farm is called Cook's Creek. I don't think it had a name back then, and it didn't seem to need one. There were two other creeks, too, One was halfway up to McReady's farm and emptied into the roadside drain. There was a double culvert there for the line and usually the pools under it had a fair bit of water.
I know I'm getting off the track here, but bear with me for a moment. The first creek we crossed was what we always called the Factory Drain. That is now Mackey's Drain. The Longwarry Butter Factory had a large paddock on the other side of the line where all manner of smelly things took place. The creek drained out of that paddock, under line, under Boxshall Rd and off to the south. It was always an interesting creek but I'll come to that.
I might add that Mackey St was still a long way into the future.
Anyway, I made it home safely that first day. The preps had a full five-day week with no early dismissal back then. I followed Neil Boxshall and Don Leeson, I think it was. I got home in good order and on time.
We usually left for school at about eight o'clock, heading out through the breezeway in the cowshed and then angling down what we called the railway paddock. From 1953 my brother Euan joined me and in 1955 another brother, Andrew, came on board. The youngest, David, went to school in 1956.
In 1953 Dad bought a brand-now Commer 10 utility from Perc Eacott's agency – but our hopes of being driven to school were immediately dashed.
Even when the weather was bad, we walked. When it was hot, or cold, we walked. When it was raining we walked. We did have the raincoats of the time, heavy rubberised things that were pretty waterproof, and we had what were called sou-wester rain hats.
They had a long cover to go back over our necks, and that kept some of the water out – but only some.
When the creek was 'up' Dad would walk down that far with us and see us over the little single-log bridge. It was not adzed for a flat top and it was slippery when wet. I fell in only once and Dad pulled me out after I'd only gone 20 feet or so.
We did go back to the house for some dry clothes, and then we started out again, this time without incident.
Now, going to school was a pretty straight forward matter because we wanted to get there in time for some fun with our friends.
It was good fun, though, when the line was being duplicated and again when it was being electrified. There were interesting things to do and we even got to ride on workmen's trolleys to the town. Of course, that was downhill. They never offered us rides back up the hill in the afternoons.
There was even a little workmen's shed opposite the sub-station, with bunks, and it was a great place to shelter from the winter rain. It was never locked but we always thought we were being delightedly naughty when we went in there.
In a few years we had all got bikes and sometimes, not often, we'd ride down Hammond Rd and Longwarry Rd to the school, but it was rare to have all four bikes ridable at the one time because we were pretty rough on them.
Dad got quite good at straightening buckled wheels and we learned to patch our own tubes and change the valve rubbers.
We also learned that bending a bike usually meant doing a certain amount of damage to ourselves, and there was no roadside assistance. Often one of us would have to wheel his bike home while bleeding gently from scratches and grazes.
We never abandoned our wounded, though. I'm sure that mum sometimes counted us to make sure we were all home.
In the1950s, and probably long after, the Longwarry Butter Factory whistle blew at five o'clock, and that was the signal by which we were supposed to be home. Often we were. Sometimes we were not. We'd talk together, trying to come up with a good excuse. We thought up some beauties, or so we thought, but I don't think any of them ever worked.
I'll come back to this next week. I always enjoy these little walks down memory lane, and I know they bring back memories many of us can share.