It happened on mi way home from work one afternoon. I was sat in mi motorbike, at the intersection of Lake Cargelligos' main street waiting for a couple of cars to go by. I didn't have a care in the world, sitting there smoking a home-made. I was tapping out a beat on the handlebars and humming one of mi favorite tunes when all of a sudden I heard mi name being called.
"Hey Yorky!"
I turned around and a bloke that I'd seen around Giltraps Hotel came walking over to see me. As he drew close he said to me,
"D'ya hear about the fire mate?"
"What fire?", I asked.
"The big fire up at Jimmy Hargraves Caravan."
"Bullshit mate! You're having me on."
"No sport, I'm serious. There was a big fire there a couple of hours ago."
"How could there be? I'm staying up there at Jims' caravan."
'I know mate. That's why I'm telling you."
"Fucking bullshit mate.", I said, knowing that a lot of Bush people are always trying to pull each others leg.
"Alright sport, have it ya own way, but don't say I didn't warn ya!"
As I rode across the intersection, I never gave it another thought until I pulled up outside Marks' old weatherboard house. Walking up his front path, I noticed what looked to me like a wisp of smoke. I made mi way around the side of his place. Once I got to the back of Marks' place, I looked up into the far right-hand of his yard where I was sure the caravan would be.
No caravan! Instead there was a big pile of burnt rubbish. I could not believe what I was seeing for a few moments. It was only just this morning that the caravan was there. The very same caravan that I'd slept in last night. The very same caravan that housed 2 suitcases full of brand-new clothes that mi old step-father, Jim Bailey, had bought for me.
My mind was still as I walked up to the big pile of charred plywood. Small wisps of grey smoke were still winding their way out out of the pile of black, smelly rubble. A couple of involuntary tears trickled out of the corners of mi eyes as I picked up a long branch and started to lift some of the charcoaled ashes. There was the remains of what used to be mi good pair of brown shoes and there was a piece of the collar of mi good shirt.
As I poked and prodded at the soggy black pile I discovered enough pieces of the jig-saw to let me know that everything I had owned this morning was now turned to ashes. Just then I heard footsteps walking up behind me. When I turned to look, it was Dorothy, Marks' wife.
"I was hoping you would have come inside the house first like you normally do Yorky. I'm really sorry ya lost everything."
"How did it happen Dot?"
"I have no idea Yorky. I went down the street to pick up some groceries and on mi way back I heard the fire truck. I was wondering where it was going in such a hurry till I got home and found it parked at the top our our block, hosing down what was left of Jims' caravan."
"Not much left of it is there Dot?
"Do you have any clothes left at all Yorky?"
"I've got what you see me standing up in, old working shorts and a pair of boots. I don't even have a pair of sock to go with 'em."
"Don't worry Yorky, when Mark comes home we'll go through his clothes. We're bound to to find something that will fit you."
"Thanks Dot. I appreciate that. D'ya know where Jimmy is?"
"Yeah, he's gone down to Twitcheys' for a beer. His nerves were really rattled when he saw what was left of his caravan."
"Ok Dot, I'll go down there miself and see him. Maybe he's found out how it happened?"
I rode back down the main street to Twitcheys. When I waked into the bar in mi shorts and boots, Twitchey said over the bar,
"Ya can't come in without a singlet on Yorky!"
"I don't fucking own a singlet or a shirt or a pair of socks Eric, the whole lot just went up in smoke!"
"Were you staying up at Hargraves caravan"
"Yeah, me and mi clothes."
"Sorry mate, I didn't realize. Stay as long as ya like mate. Here, have a beer on me Yorky. I'll see Annette when she comes downstairs. I've got a swag of new shirts that aren't even out of the wrappers. There's bound to be something to fit ya."
"Thanks Eric, that's real kind of ya mate. Have ya seen Jimmy Hargraves around?"
"Yeah he just left to go to his girlfriends flat. He was lucky. He said she was doing his washing so most of his good clothes were out at her place."
Before the evening was over I had more clothes then I knew what to do with. As each local came in for a beer, Eric told 'em about the fire. Their response was,
"Hey Yorky, don't worry about it mate. I've got a brand-new shirt for you. Mi missus bought if for mi birthday and I hate the bloody color of it. She's always pestering me to wear it when we go out together. I'll go home and get it for ya right now mate."
If it wasn't a shirt, it was trousers. If not trousers, socks. If not socks, belts and ties. I think I counted 15 ties that evening.
The funniest part is yet to come. Saturday morning, when I walked down the street in mi new gear, I met a couple of the blokes wives, and conversations went something like this;
"G'day Yorky. Sorry to hear ya lost everything in the fire."
"Oh, that's a really pretty shirt ya wearing. I bought one exactly the same for our Bill but he didn't like the color. Perhaps he'll start wearing it when he sees that you've got one the same!"
Another woman said, " Our Sids' got a pair of shoes just like those. I bought 'em for his birthday, he says he loves 'em.
That's the story of how I went from rags to riches in one evening.
We never did find out how the caravan caught on fire. Some people said it was probably kids while others said that Jimmy had flown a few too many Kites, (he wrote a few bad cheques!)
