Take It Easy

By Andrew Kepitis-Andrews

Light reading of the humorous doings of patrons and barflies in an Australian suburban pub.
Narrated by a New Australian as he sees it and in his odd way of using the English language.
Entertaining. Set in Sydney's Newtown area during the late fifties and early sixties.
Larger than life characters. Most yarns have an unexpected twist in the ending.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Andrew Kepitis-Andrews
• Release date: Jun 10, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310908156

Andrew Kepitis-Andrews

Following a lifetime of adventure, travel and intrigue, Andrew Kepitis-Andrews finally settled on the north coast of New South Wales, Australia, and opened a gourmet smokehouse. Always possessing the urge to write but lacking the time that serious writing demands, he retired from commercial food smoking at the age of seventy-four, and had his first book published the same year, 2014. The writing bug is now fully incubated, and Andrew says his writing has two simple, sincere and earnest goals: your pleasure in the reading of it and his pleasure in the writing of it.

Book preview

Take It Easy

By Andrew Kepitis-Andrews

Take It Easy

© Andrew Kepitis-Andrews 2016

Published by: Andrew Kepitis-Andrews

Smashwords Edition

This book is copyright. Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of private study, research, criticism or reviews, as permitted under the Copyright Act, no part of this book may be reproduced by any process, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission from the copyright holder. Enquiries should be made to the publisher.

Cover design by Christine de Portugon

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Dedication

This book is dedicated to my wife Jill who doubles up as First Editor and Critic.

With special thanks to the late Damon Runyon whose works inspired this book.

Table Of Contents

Take It Easy — Introduction

Dear Old Pals

Pewter Legs Pete

The National Debt

The Great Train Robbery

The Thin Man

Life After Death

The Newtown Game Hunters

An Altar Too Far

Lust and Punishment

Wheels and Deals

About The Author

Other Books By Andrew Kepitis-Andrews

Take It Easy — Introduction

I don’t know why I should be telling you this as you must know it already, but you have to agree, Australia must be the best country in the world. Not only is the weather the best money can buy, there are also many agreeable benefits open to all citizens. No one is allowed to starve to death by law. Persons wishing to indulge in this practice soon find they are visited by organisations which pour hot soup down their throats, followed by a pie and tomato sauce and tell them not to worry as, she’ll be right. Persons working for a boss are paid for being sick, even if they are not sick but say they are. They even pay you not to come to work for a few weeks each year and spend some time down at the race track or wherever else you wish to spend your time, just as long as you are having a holiday, although this means little to be as I don’t quite know what that is or what I should do when taking it. Personally I am not much into working for a boss as this takes up too much of my time and interferes with my other activities, but like I say, it’s there for those who want it.

Here I must explain that I am a bloody New Australian or a bloody Balt, whichever you prefer although I seldom display any sign of blood on my person, preferring to keep it in my veins where it is necessary, but it seems to many other parties that I am covered in it. In all fairness I must add that I am never called a Wog as this title is strictly reserved for Greeks and Italians who are in no mood to share it with anyone else. But I digress. What I really want to tell you is that I am not born in Australia but in a port city called Liepaja in Latvia which is a country not too far from the North Pole. My father, Peteris, is a Lithuanian and works on the docks in Liepaja and my mother Emma is Latvian and does a little bit of this and a little bit of that. I am just ten years old when my father has a difference of opinion with some of his co-workers at the docks and during their discussions one of them pulls out a piece from his pants pocket and pumps three very large 38 slugs into Father’s chest causing him to become very dead, almost instantly. When Mother hears of this, she is greatly disturbed and works up a heart attack big enough to join Father in being dead.

All this, of course, becomes very inconvenient for me as now I become an orphan and have a big problem with my diet and other things. Because the authorities in Liepaja dislike seeing young boys rifle through the city’s garbage bins searching for left over morsels of unfinished dinners, deeming this bad publicity, they grab me by the scruff of the neck and escort me to what thecall an orphanage or something like that. Not having any great plans for the future, I stay there for a few years doing some farm work in exchange for my supper. Then one day a car and a truck arrive at the orphanage and we are told that those of us who are now eighteen will undergo a medical check, which is something I know nothing about but have to along with anyhow.

A splendidly uniformed man gets out of the car and we are told he is a German officer who has with him a doctor and six soldiers to keep him company. The doctor orders us eighteen year olds to strip down to the waist, actually even further down than that and starts prodding us and making us say ah and cough. Some boys are sent back to the dorm and those left are brought before the officer, who with a big smile on his face, informs us that we are all medically fit and are invited to join the glorious German Wafen SS Army where an exciting future is waiting for us, shooting and killing the enemies of the great German Reich. Being raised a peace loving, polite person, I thank the officer for the invitation but have to explain that I have no great wish to be running round the countryside killing anyone, especially as I don’t know them or even know if they deserve killing.

The officer is very sympathetic to my feelings and begins to explain my options. Either I take up his offer or I proceed to a wall nearby and stand in front of it and then he points to the back of the truck which now has the back flaps open and I see three soldiers sitting round a machine gun pointed at the wall. I say to the officer that this is not a very nice proposition to make to a peace loving fellow but he explains further that his bosses are of the opinion that anyone not on their side is the enemy and that if I wish for peace, by standing in front of the wall I would attain that very soon and forevr. This indeed is a proposition I have never had to consider before and very quickly I come to the conclusion that killing a few parties here and there may not be so bad after all, especially as I don’t know them personally.

Actually I never get to kill anybody, spending most of my time with the SS guarding one concentration camp or another where I pick up some bad habits, like smoking cigarettes and drinking schnapps. I never really get very fond of the SS, finding them a bit too rough on the prisoners and squabbling amongst themselves. As a matter of fact, I find them unworthy of my company and therefore, at the appropriate moment, whilst on leave, I go AWOL and keep on walking into a forest where I’m soon surrounded by a group of scruffy men carrying enough hardware to start their own war. They soon let me know that they are partisans operating their own little war with anyone looking for a shoot-out and they are very glad to hear that I have resigned from the SS Army in order to join them. This actually was not my plan, but now that I am here?

Life amongst the partisans did not in many ways agree with me. I had better bedding at the orphanage and that goes for the food as well. Therefore, I am happone day to hear that the war is over and I can go home, except that I can’t. The Russkies now occupy my home and on the grapevine we hear that comrade Stalin wholeheartedly welcomes any ex SS soldier to come home and then visit his business undertakings in Siberia and help out with the mining. Somewhat at a loss considering my future, an American patrol picks me up and I am made a POW, then sent to England. After a lot of questioning, I am released and allowed to stay in England as nobody seems to know where else to send me.

Learning the English language is something else again and the English citizens have little time to mix with a reffo who can’t speak their language, besides that, whilst being with the Americans, I learn a bit of American which is not much like English and requires a lot of breath to speak. I do the best I can to learn and even try diligently to read their newspapers and even more diligently to understand them but with slow progress. Then I spot an article in the paper which says that Austria is looking for able bodied men to come and make their fortune. At first I am very puzzled by this as I fail to understand how one can make any fortune in Austria which is even in worse shape than Germany. Then someone corrects my ignorance by saying the Austria doesn’t want me and probably never will but Australia does. This was evmore puzzling as I had only heard of Australia but had no idea where it was. When told that it was on the other side of the world, I had a little think and came to the conclusion that the other side of the world would suit me just fine. In order to go to Australia, I had to sign a contract with the government that they would find work for me, anywhere in the country they liked and I would have to work there for to years after which I could do as I liked. At first I thought the Australians were a bit soft in the head. They would find work for me for two years thus guaranteeing three meals a day for two years. Themust be either very rich or very stupid. I would have gladly signed up for twenty years.

For two years I worked in a steel pipe making firm in Newcastle, mostly pushing a broom and eating like never before. Then word filtered through that a fortune could be made by cutting sugar cane in Queensland. Cutting sugwas very uncomfortable for my back but very pleasing for my wallet but I kept at it until the cane fields were overrun by Italian and Greek workers. The trouble was that these persons wored like driven slaes and pretty soon took over, making it hard for persons like me to get a start on a new field because they worked too hard and therefore got the first pick. Not that this ofended me and I was always very polite when dealing with these people. But I couldn’t match their working tempo as mainly I’m not too fond of lifting heavy objects. And I’m equally not fond of sweating, this being very damaging to my complexion as I am a Nordic type of person with matching complxion.

Working in the cane fields had one advantage, that being, there is not many diferent ways of spending money. One can only drink so much beer before one has to take a little rest and sometimes a long sleep and before you know it your bank book tells you there is a great pile of pounds and shillings stashed away that it is almost embarrassing. The word is that Sydney is the best place to unburden oneself of all this currency and King’s Cross is guaranteed to achieve this the quickest. Howeer, I also hear that the Cross is the home of many disreputable parties, lacking in good manners and inclined to welcoming cashed up cane cutters and very expert in separating the cane cutter from his stash.

This is why I discover some lodgings in Newtown as it offers all that a party needs as well as a pub called the King’s Head which is the social hub for many Newtown citizens and I soon work out it is the hub of manother enterprises such as chook raffles. Percy or Chook, as he is known to all local customers, is in charge of this activity. I get to know Chook pretty well and after a while I put to him a polite proposition that he could maybe use an assistant, mainly me. Chook already has two assistants who are not very reliable, so he looks me up and down and sizes me up as a person of good moral substance and notes that I am always very polite to all the customers at the King’s Head and I become assistant No3. Pretty soon I am No1 assistant as I am reliable and good mannered.

Amongst other most regulars at the pub I get to know a party who goes under the name of Flash Harry. He is an elderly gentleman, always neatly and properly attired and he provides a service to many King’s Head customers who are too busy and can’t get to the racetrack themselves. He sort of does this for them by taking their money and laying it on the nags of their choice, paying out the winners when the starting price is announced. This practice is considered very illegal by the wallopers who uphold the law but it seems there are many times when they are chasing villains they cannot get to the track themselves and so thy avail themselves of Flash Harry’s services as long as he stays honest and upright and most of all, quiet. I say a polite ‘hello’ to Flash Harry many times and even invest a little of my funds with him and then I notice that he is looking a little strained and burdened by his occupation. It’s clear he is in need of help and so I suggest to him that he could do with an assistant and give him more time to relax. Flash Harry finds this a great idea and because he knows me to be always polite and reliable, so he suggests that perhaps I could be the one to fill this position.

Life to me is becoming sweet and productive. Where else in the world could I be virtually self-employed and working in such desirable surroundings? It gets een better. Chook is suffering from a liver ailment and has to be housed in the place for sick people and therefore hands me over the raffle business. Not long after that, Flash Harry stops appearances at the King’s Head. Word has it that he is looking after his sick mother in Broken Hill or maybe Brazil, but other word has it that there are three parties who desperately wish to interview Harry and ask for an explanation why he doesn’t pay out on a couple of big winners who romp in at 110 to 1. I get to carry on Harry’s SP Book and the players trust me as I have learned that greed is not good in the SP business. So any large or dodgy bets I can lay off with another bookie.

This now puts me in an ideal situation. As far as the taxman is concerned I am making a living in the chook business, albeit a very poor one and my hobby is horse racing, where I am a very poor gambler. Howeer, the time