We're waiting for the cleaner to arrive; it could be anytime between 8 and 12 o'clock but we have nothing else planned for today. I would, normally, be heading off to my 'classes' at the School for Seniors but I'm not doing that anymore. I'll probably sit at my desk while the cleaner is here to keep out of her way. One thing we always have to do on Friday morning is strip the bed, bundle all the linen into the laundry to be washed, shake and turn around the padded under thing and remake the bed when the cleaner has put on fresh sheets. It's not my favourite day of the week.
One thing I have to do is browse the Marketplace on Facebook to see if anyone is selling a little round table and a couple of chairs. Harvey Norman want an arm and a leg for something that would suffice but I suspect I can do better in the second-hand market.
I wrote this story in 2022 when the celebrations for the anniversary of the opening of the Sydney Harbour Bridge were underway. I was interested in the fact that the stone for the bridge supports was all cut from a quarry at Moruya by workers imported from Aberdeen, known in Scotland as the Granite City. One of the newspapers published a photograph of students at the Moruya Primary School and I was intrigued by one young fellow who seemed better dressed than the others, so I made him the subject of the story.
GRANITE TOWN FACES APRIL 1, 2022
When his father came in from work with the familiar smell of granite-dust on his clothes and in his hair and said, “We’re going home”, Andrew Ritchie’s heart sank. His father went on,
”They’ve told us the last pieces have been cut and it’s just a matter of cleaning up the site and then we’ll be back to Sydney and on to a ship for home.”
“Aren’t we going to stay until the opening of the bridge?” Andrew’s mother asked.
“There’s no need; we’re not invited and there will be thousands of people there all trying to get a good look. I never want to see another piece of Moruya Granite. I’ve spoken to Mr Gilmore and he said we can leave with the first group to go.”
Andrew wondered what it would be like to go back to Aberdeen. When he thought about it, he realised he missed living in a town where they had paved streets, and street-lights and a library. Yes, a library! That’s what I miss most about Aberdeen.
He couldn’t sleep that night, his head spinning with thoughts of what his life would be like. He would be fourteen in a few months and his father had already told him he had lined up an apprenticeship for him at the Rubislaw Quarry. Was that to be his life? Slaving in a granite quarry for ten hours a day and then dying an early death from silicosis. “Not bloody likely!” he said to himself. He had read that phrase in a book his teacher had lent him: it was a play, in fact - Pygmalion. By George Bernard Shaw.
Andrew woke early and joined his parents in the kitchen where his father was having his porridge before going to work.
“I’m not going,” Andrew announced.
“You’re not going where?” asked his mother.
“I’m not going back to Aberdeen. I’m not going to become a stone mason, and I’m not going back to the cold weather. I want to stay in Australia. I’ll be fourteen soon so I can get a job and look after myself.”
“Don’t be daft,” said his father. “You’ll do what I tell you and that’s the end of the matter.”
Andrew waited until his father had gone to work and he could talk to his mother without his father’s bullying. His mother was sympathetic and said, “This is what we’ll do. We’ll talk to Mr Gilmore and get his advice. He’s the only man your father will listen to and whose advice he will accept.”
John Gilmore was the manager of the Moruya Granite Quarry and had earned the respect of all his men. He was a fair man and a good manager and was happy to make time to talk to Mrs Ritchie and help her with her problem. After listening to the story and asking some questions, he said,
“Andrew seems to be a very intelligent and studious young man. Some might say that he will be wasted as a labourer in a stone quarry. I have some good contacts in Sydney and I’d be happy to see what I can do. It might mean, Andrew, that you will have to break away from your family and you may not see them again for many years. Would you be happy about that arrangement? And what would you say about staying at school a bit longer and getting a better education? Yes? Well, leave it with me.”
John Gilmore spoke first to Andrew’s teacher and then contacted a good friend who was the chairman of the Scots College Old Boys’ Association in Sydney. He outlined the situation and his friend said, “Oh, we can certainly help. We’ve been looking for a way to get involved in something to do with the opening of the bridge and this fits the bill perfectly – here’s a Scottish boy with a connection to the building of the Bridge. We certainly have enough funds to offer a bursary, the Uniform Shop can fit him out and I’ll, personally, offer him a reasonable living allowance. An ex-teacher from the school, Mr Bill Nimmo, now has his own Prep. School in Randwick and he and his wife offer accommodation to country boys who attend his school and Scots so Andrew will be well looked after. The Association will pick up those expenses too. With a few years at Scots, University for Andrew would not be out of the question.”
When John Gilmore reported back to Mrs Ritchie, she could not believe what she was hearing. There were some details which needed sorting out and it would be hard on all the family but it was a wonderful opportunity for Andrew. Now all she had to do was convince Andrew’s father to agree.
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