Yep, this is a true story. It's based around a few kids in the 1950's, aged around 7 or 8, living in a poor neighbourhood, on the edge of bush, just north of Adelaide. A kid's life was a lot different than today.
It was just after the end of WW2. There was not much money, so very few toys. There was no TV, just a radio, which the adults huddled around in the evening, listening to the news or serials. Very boring for kids. So we made our own entertainment, which more often than not, got us into a lot of trouble with our parents, neighbours teachers and, on occasion, with the police.
The police weren't too bad. If you were caught doing something evil or illegal, the local cop would give you a firm clip around the ear and took you home and toid your parents why. Then, all hell broke loose. I lost count of the times I felt my fatherther's belt buckle across my back and legs. I think that's when I learned to hate him, also because he was usually drunk at the time.
Despite that, I had an amazing time with my mates, running around in the bush, hunting for rabbits, lizards and snakes. Yep, snakes. Usually very poisonous brown snakes, which we used kill and cook on a small campfire and eat. Surprisingly, none of us ever got bitten by a snake or poisoned from eating them. The only danger was the belting my mother would give me with her wooden spoon, when she found out.
Typical kids from the 50's (not us).
One of our favourite days was Guy Fawkes Day. This was always celebrated on November 5th. and celebrated a failed attempt by the aforementioned Mr. Fawkes to blow up the British Houses of Parliament, way back when. A worthwhile cause, I always thought.
Every neighbourhood used to get together and build a huge bonfire, let off some fireworks and drink beer. It was a great night, even if we kids didn't get any beer.
A typical Guy Fawkes Day bonfire.
This particular year, one of my more adventurous mates and I, decided to spice things up a bit. As I mentioned, we used to hunt snakes. It was November, which is quite warm, and meant snakes were easy to find. We decided that a sack full of live brown snakes thrown onto the bonfire would be an exciting distraction that everyone could enjoy, so we went hunting, with a large burlap sack in tow.
A burlap sack
I took us almost all day to catch enough snakes to half fill the dack. I think we had around 20. That was heavy enough to easily and safely carry that many squiming, hissing, bad tempered brown snakes to an area near home, where we carefully hid them until the bonfire. I know what we were about to do was wrong and, today, anyone, who is a conservationist, myself included, will be horrified at our intentions. Bear in mind, we were two eight year old, semi wild, definitely feral kids of the 1950s.
About a sackful of brown snakes,
Later that night, the bonfire had burnt down, all the fireworks were finished and, most of the adults were drunk or working on it. It seemed like a perfect time for our little surprise, so we snuck off and retrieved the bag full of snakes, undid the rope holding the sack closed, and chucked it on the fire. The snakes were less than happy and burst out of the sack at what seemed like 100 miles per her hour and took off in all directions, as did all the drunk or almost drunk adults.
Only us kids ,most of whom were in on the prank, were rolling around on the ground, pissing ourselves laughing.
The bruises on my back and legs, from my father's belt buckle, took longer than usual to fade. This was because his dinking mates blamed him for not keeping his kid under control and almost causing a mass snake bite event.
It was seriously worth every bruise!!
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