Uncle Jasper and the Eighty Acres

By Lindsay Johannsen

A look at the old rascal's life ... not so much wasted exactly; more seemingly let drift. Yet things are not always as they might appear...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lindsay Johannsen
• Release date: Aug 5, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310855290

Lindsay Johannsen

There's not a lot to tell really, though on reflection, looking back on it through the lens of one’s recollections and memories, the whole business seems more akin to an extended Huckleberry Finn adventure, but set in the vastness of Central Australia. Born, raised and schooled in Alice Springs; taken from the leafy glades of learning mid-way through Year-eight to work at my father's remote little copper mine; later employed for some years driving his cattle-hauling road trains – him having pioneered road trains and the cattle hauling business (see "Kurt Johannsen: A Son of the Red Centre"). Married in the fullness of time; built a bush homestead on the northern edge of the Simpson Desert and raised a family there, all while running a small tungsten mining business and provisioning the hundred or so Aboriginal people local to the area who adopted us. Sold our mine and homestead a few years after the kids had flown the coop, acquired a forty foot (12m) touring coach, converted it into a big steel-wheel mobeel Palaise-de-passion motor home and took to the roads of this great land of Oz - in the main visiting our offspring (most of whom had moved to coastal regions), our grandchildren generally and a couple of great grandies, plus various friends and associates from years gone by. So these days all I have to do is keep the missus happy – my Bride my Precious Lamb and Flower of the Early Mid Morning. 'Anywhere you wish, my darling,' I tell her. 'You just say the word and we'll be on our way.' So it's free as the breeze, we are now, out and about having wild and exciting adventures and being amazingly cool generally. Best job I ever had.

Book preview

UNCLE JASPER

AND THE EIGHTY ACRES

...Uncle Jasper. Now there was an interesting old coot.

Did I ever tell you about him?

No? Well bring your cuppa and come with me. I’ve some chairs behind the shed. It’s a nice spot. We can sit in the afternoon sun there while I tell you his story.

Yeah. Uncle Jasper. He’s been gone a few years now, the old bugger. —Lived life as he pleased; did things his own way ... and interesting because interesting things happened to him – from the day he was born, pretty much.

Like at his baptism, for instance. See when I was about eight he confided to me that he’d actually been Christened Harold Francois MacHoolihan Caprionelli!

Old Father Kelly was the priest back then. Seems he had a habit of nipping into the vestry following each baptism service, to freshen up and have quick nip of… Well you know, in readiness for the next one. Anyhow, on this particular day things were running later than usual, and he’d emerged to find himself in the midst of a raging family argument and the air thick with broad-ranging claims and counter-claims.

As a result he’d quickly whispered an abbreviated service, using names garnered from both the town’s common wisdom and certain umm ... much more confidential murmurings. Little of this appears to have been heard above the din, however, as most of the non-combatants were completely unaware of what had happened.

He’d then invited the next Christening party to help evict them. And, not surprisingly, the seventeen or so Hell’s Angels and their molls were more than happy to oblige.

By all accounts the baby enjoyed the proceedings immensely, smiling and farting happily and kicking his legs the whole time. And through all the years I knew my Uncle Jasper he never once