Free Working Class Boy by Jimmy Barnes Page A

when they first arrived in their new home. But the Poms do like a good whinge, and so do the Scots, so maybe not.
    The rain came down on the roof, so loud it almost drowned out the sound of my mum crying. I like the sound of rain beating on a corrugated iron roof; it covers any other sound you don’t want to hear. She didn’t stop crying for a long time – years, when I think about it. She was just miserable. I don’t remember a day going by without my mum saying, ‘I hate this fuckin’ place, I want tae go back hame tae Scotland.’
    She would sob to herself, ‘It’s too hot, the food’s nae good and I don’t like these people. We’re too different to live here wi’ them.’
    Nothing was what my mum and dad had hoped for. I doubt it was ever going to be what they had hoped for, no matter how good it was. We could have been put up at the Hilton and my mum would have complained.
    But besides the huts, for us kids it was heaven. We would be outside running around all day. I’d never seen so many trees in my life and there were animals running around too – the only animals I’d seen before drank with my dad. I don’t think I’d ever kicked a football on grass before then. It felt completely different. We could play without ripping our knees to bits and go home without gravel rash all over us. This was great. I’d get up before Mum and Dad and wake my sisters and say, ‘Let’s go kick thefootball or chase the birds. Come on, before Mum makes us do something else.’
    We wanted to be outside all day, doing nothing and everything.
    It wasn’t long before we were running around barefoot and getting swooped by magpies just like the Australian kids. At first the magpies terrified me. In Glasgow if something came flying at your head it was normally attached to someone’s hand. But after a short time I would be running and laughing at the same time, which was hard to do, and I would end up falling over as they swooped over my head like dive bombers. It became a game to try to get from one shelter to the next without being attacked, a good test of my speed and ability to change direction. I don’t think I ever really got it over the magpies, they were always the winners. I realised then that I didn’t have a good turn of speed or a side step but I was still convinced I would be the greatest football player ever. As long as I could run in a straight line, very slowly, that is.
    Another thing I liked was that kids in Australia could get their gear off and run through a sprinkler any time they wanted. In fact, as a child I spent a lot of time chasing mates through the water as it sprayed up into the air making rainbows for us to crash through. There were colours everywhere; it wasn’t dull and grey like the Glasgow I remembered. It was a new world and we loved it. The dirty stone walls of the tenements seemed like they were from another lifetime. I almost forgot about them completely although they popped up in the odd nightmare. I was too busy climbing trees and running on the soft green grass, never having to worry if someone was going to hurt me. This was the lucky country and we were the lucky kids.
    All the parents just seemed miserable. Just like they did at home really. Nothing was ever right for any of them. The same old problems seemed to raise their ugly heads only now in adifferent location. All the shit that was happening in Scotland was going on in Australia, only my mum had no one to run to for help. She was alone. There was only my dad, who was always drunk or gone, the other kids or me. Us kids were the only ones in the world who could see what was left of that burning light in her heart I told you about earlier. The light that was being dimmed by all the shit that life threw at her.
    My clearest memories are of being out all day playing football. That game saved my life I think. I’d be away from the house all day