When I was transferred to Richmond from South Melbourne, I found myself a Scottish lady, in a lovely Tudor cottage in Hawthorne, who wanted a border. Bed and breakfast it was only, and I was given a sweet little attic room which was only ten minutes from my work.

That was when I started to frequent an Italian Restaurant in the city. They served good, wholesome Italian fare for very reasonable prices and I ate there 6 nights a week, except for Sunday when we met at Paul’s so-called, afternoon tea parties.

The owner of the restaurant, by the name of Allegro, became very friendly and sometimes sat with me while I was eating. Finally the day came when I had to report to the Allied Works Council, and as I sat outside the big boss’s office, awaiting my sentence, I saw Allegro arriving with a small suitcase. He came over to me and I told him what my problem was. He went straight to the office, after a formal knock, and when he came out some time later, he waved me to go in. I went in and sat down in terror.

The man smiled at me and told me he believed that I wanted to change jobs. And if I did so, I shouldn’t make any hasty decisions and take at least a couple of weeks off before deciding who I wanted to work for.

Suddenly I remembered, at one of Paul’s Sunday afternoon tea parties, he mentioned that he had a friend of a friend of his out at Lily Ponds, who was looking for a turner and fitter. I mentioned this immediately to the Director, and he smiled and said “well that’s settled then, start there in two weeks”.

I could hardly believe my good fortune and rushed straight to the restaurant to tell Allegro. He explained to me that he could only keep his staff of able-bodied men, by bringing this guy a regular supply of cigarettes, whisky and chocolates which were almost impossible to get at that time.

In war time, everybody not eligible for the forces were allocated certain jobs that the government thought essential for the war effort. So while he was in there with the Director, he mentioned to him that I was a friend of his, and I was in need of help. So, there I was a fortnight later, starting my new job in Lily Ponds.

The factory was an old service station, with the bowser still out on the footpath, and the owner got himself a government contract to produce sleeves that went on the hinges of the elevators of some fighter aircraft. These were made from high tensile steel, about 5 inch tubing, and we had to make special jigs for these sleeves as they went out of round every time you took the first cut off the skin of the tube.

And that was when I decided to take a tool making course at Melbourne Tech. I went four nights a week, religiously, for a year and a half and emerged fully qualified if not certified as a toolmaker. Not being able to prove that I was ever apprenticed as a turner and fitter, I couldn’t get a certificate as a toolmaker.

I learned all about different qualities of steel, about hardening, grinding tools and dies on very sophisticated, precision machinery. And on my way home at night, from tech, I got to know an Architectural Draftsman called Mel Watscoe. He was very keen on going skiing, and introduced me to two other guys, called Peter and Alan, who were equally keen.

By that time I had moved to Coburg, where I rented a room from an Australian lady and this was close to work and close to tech. And this lady also had a garage but no car so I could use it as a workshop.