John Gordon-Kirkby

Story

Due to WWI mustard gas poisoning , my father could not live in the damp English climate. My parents, were living in sunny Spain when I was born in 1936 under the Union Jack, on the Rock of Gibraltar. In 1939 because of the horrors of Civil War, we moved over to the then International City of Tangier in Morocco. My sister was born there that year, and three weeks later WWII was declared. We were stuck, with no funds from England. So started a 22 year span of my life on a Moroccan dairy goat farm that we created from scratch!

Morocco gained independence in 1956. Two years later my Dad finally died of his war injuries . He lies at rest in the beautiful and historic St Andrews churchyard in Tangier. Farming was now difficult, and we were foreigners in our own “homeland” I met Australian tourists who sponsored me as a migrant , and after qualifiyng as a Non British resident in London, I eventually arrived in Melbourne in November 1961 on The Orsova, as a “Ten Pound Pom”.

Cobram my first home, and the Gouburn Valley and Riverina my work place.”Cockies” were my clients for a well known brand of fuel. In 1964 the lure of adventure took me to Papua New Guinea as a Patrol Officer for the next 14 years. 1975 Independence made life for an expatriate District Officer difficult, so the next move was to poultry farming in New Zealand, with my ex Missionary wife. I even became a Kiwi ! Marriages sometimes end, mine did…………… I returned to my mother and sister, now well established in Victoria . Then followed the most enriching experiences of my working life; first at Utopia and then at Walungurru in the Northern Territory, working for the Pintubi people. In 1988 , a return to “civilisation” a 2nd marriage and at long last Australian citizenship. A home in Bendigo and eventually, retirement on the delightful Mornington Penisula.

Thank you Australia. Magnificent value for only ten Quid !

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