Religion, My Mother & Me. Part IV

A Catholic conspiracy

If anybody has been following this ramble they may remember in the last episode I mentioned going to Mass with two of the girls from the office; to a delightful old church in the middle of the city of Melbourne. I thought it would be nice to put a picture or two of this church in a post. Trouble is I couldn’t find any old photographs from the 50’s and the church has been dollied up and to my mind has lost a lot of it’s character.

It’s  been spruced up inside and out; 60 years ago it was quite dark inside and everywhere you looked there seemed to be candles burning and you spoke in whispers. It now appears to have lost that magic

 Anyway to get on with the drivel; I’d been working in the Catholic den for a few months when the accountant called me in and told me that there as a new young bloke coming into the department and he wanted me to take him under my wing and make him feel welcome as he was apparently very introverted because of a bad speech impediment. A cleft pallet. Having no idea what he was talking about I told him the 1950’s equivalent to “no worrries” ( I can’t recall what we’d say back then, probably something like “she’s jake”).

Next day I met this new bloke and he was introducd to me as Bryan Francis Doyle what another fine Irish Catholic name, the forces of evil and Doctor Mannix were conspiring against me.

Doyley and I became the greatest of mates, you may recall that when I was going to school I only ever had one close mate Joey Richardson, a Catholic, (my mother managed to skuttle that relationship) and now the only other bloke I could relate to and who’s company I enjoyed was another.

Strangely even my mother took to Doyley, at first I think it was because of his speech but he was an incorrigible character once he realized that she didn’t care how he spoke; we always knew what he was saying. he just settled down and became one of the family, even calling my mother  ‘mum’ most of the time, giving her plenty of cheek and she lapped it up, and Doyley was an out and out Mick wouldn’t be seen dead eating meat on a Friday, I still can’t understand it!

Sadly I lost contact with him many years ago, I still think of him often, he would have been 80 a couple of weeks back on the 26th September, one day I may relate our last meeting, although at the time I didn’t know that it was. 

It wasn’t that long after he joined the accounts department that I got shunted off to the claims department where I found myself in my element. This was my forté and Im not being immodest when I say that I became the best in this field in Australia back in the 50’s.

If I ever get around to blowing my trumpet I’ll tell you some good stories; come to think of it I did do one a couple of years back, (yes, I did, I just checked and if your interested  find the post Firenze Fashions ) and I was assigned my own typist ( I was coming up in the world)  and what a lovely lass she was too. Carmel Burke (I did a post on her too not long back) what a fine Irish Catholic name is that is, and something might well have developed between the two of us had not another caught my eye and captured my soul. ( I had one back then at least I think I thought I had!)

I was quite happy with all my catholic chums, I had no Cof E chums and I’d toddle off to Mass with them stand up sit down go through the whole business except cross myself, that came later and later still I awoke!  And my mother knew nothing of her wandering son and his intrigue….

🙂