Old friends

On Friday I had a phone call.

“How are you?”

‘Good,” I replied. “Who is this?”

“Chris.’’

I had to wrack my brain a bit. The last time I’d seen Chris was two years ago. “Chris from Te Aroha?”

“No, Chris from shearing days.”

Now that was taking me back. The last time I’d seen this Chris was the summer of 99. He and his teenage daughter had spent the holidays with us on the farm, along with my niece Eve. That had been a wonderful summer – the girls out horse riding each day and us carrying out the usual farm activities. There would have been hay to make and sheep to shear, lambs to drench and dip, swims in the eel-infested swimming hole, body boarding and fishing down the beach as well as meals for 10 people.

Going back even further, Chris had been the presser in the shearing gang. The last time we had worked together was the spring of 1985, when I was the cook. We’d also shared many hours in the woolshed in years previously, all of us toiling hard to get the wool off the floor and into the press. Those team efforts were amazing. The shearers worked hard – they got paid by the sheep so had a huge incentive to shear as many as they could in a day, while us rousies and the presser were paid by the hour. In every gang I worked in, the shearers were always fast, so our work load was always huge. At the end of each day, we would fall exhausted into our beds, only to rise early and do it all again the following day. I always loved it though.

Chris and I reminisced a bit. We talked about the last time we’d been together, when I was the cook. It was the presser’s job each morning to bring me a whole sheep that had been killed the day before and hung overnight in the killing shed. Then he would cut it up. That was tough, because the sheep still needed penning up in the woolshed and the wool pressed. When there were four shearers there would be two pressers but in three-stand sheds, only one.

It was my job to turn that mutton into the three meals a day as well as providing smokos (sandwiches and cakes for morning and afternoon tea). The days were long as a cook and I never enjoyed them as much as rousing. I would have to have a cup of tea and toast ready for the workers by 4.30am and then breakfast at 7am. Smoko was at 9.45am, lunch at 12, afternoon smoko at 2.15, with the shearers knocking off at 5pm. Normally they wouldn’t want to eat until 6 or 630pm while I would then have to do all the dishes while they relaxed after their hard day. I tried as many variations of the mutton as possible, stews, roasts, stuffing the flaps – but at the end of the day we were still eating the same meat. Next morning, a new sheep would be provided and the day would begin again.

As well as all this, I had my three kids to look after. Levi was just three weeks old when I started. That is how I knew it was the spring of 85. He was a good baby and seemed to take his naps and his feeds perfectly between my chores. For some reason, in one particular shed, Chris had bought his toddler and asked me to look after her for him. We talked about this. Chris had rung looking for my son’s phone number. We exchanged health reports and other bits and pieces, then hung up.

Then last night, at Bernie’s 60th I was talking to one of the guests, when he said that Bernie’s ex had turned up. I had been told he wasn’t coming. Here was another Chris, whom I had also worked with in the sheds, rousing, while he shore. The last time I had seen him was that same spring of 85. He had also been in the gang with the other Chris. At one period, this couple had also brought their three kids and so I had these to look after as well. I was so busy, that ‘looking after’ was really only counting heads. The kids would spend the time with their parents during breakfast, lunch and smoko breaks. We also talked about this, and I was delighted to meet one of these kids last night, though she had no memory of those few days I looked after her.

I know this was no coincidence that I had contact with both of these Chris’ within a day of each other. It really took me back to a period in my life that I’d forgotten about. I have never been much good at keeping in touch with people, but it just shows, that when you make connections with others, through work or whatever, those connections will always be there, despite the fact you may not have anything to do with these people over the intervening years.

I have so many people who cross through my mind now and again. I wonder how many times I cross through other’s minds.