Malcolm Tubb

Us, scrubbed up for a photo on a Vintage Car Club rally. We have a 1938 Morris 8, which causes great annoyance to the truckies on the highway, so we have a 1970 Beetle, which doesn't hold them up nearly as much. Our 1961 Vespa doesn't venture out of Renmark because it doesn't do hills.

Michael lived one street up from us in Bellair. We were good mates pre-school, through Bellair Primary School and then at DHS. On JC swot leave we were picking guavas in a tree in his backyard. The branch we were on broke, and we both fell (maybe 2 metres). Michael was complaining of a pain in his side, so the doctor was called, but could not diagnose a problem, and he went to lie down. I visited him later that evening and he was still in pain. The following morning I got the awful news that he had died. There was no trauma counselling back in those days, and as a young teenager, it took me a long time to get over it. His family never did.

Arne was, like me, a bit of a low profile nonentity at DHS. We were great mates, and he often invited John Jackson and me around to their flat close to school for lunch, coffee and a sly cigarette. Our friendship continued after school, and we had some great parties on board the Safdan Yvonne, where Arne was a Deck Officer. After he moved back to Stockholm in the early 70's we kept in touch with Christmas cards every year, until 1998, when I did not get a reply. A little later I  received a letter saying "you do not know me. I am Ingrid, Arne's daughter. I must tell you, that my father's heart stopped. We are very sad." So was I.     The year previous I had had a business trip to Malmo in Sweden, and had planned a brief side trip to Stockholm, but bad weather prevented it. Another regret.