As a kid in third class at the primary school in the 1950's a day did not pass that I did not go into the shop to peruse the latest comics, The Phantom, Blackhawk (my nickname based on one of the characters) and that famous American Indian, Straight Arrow.

The papers and periodicals were laid out on a flat bench in front of the counter whilst the comics were on a raised floor … obviously many people buying the Mirror, Truth, Forbes Advocate or the Sydney Morning Herald did not want to be offended by the lurid covers of Sheena The Jungle Girl, Lucky Lanigan mowing down crowds of Indians or the Cisco Kid booting his side-kick Pancho in the butt because he was too fat to climb onto his horse. Just love thinking about all those politically incorrect characters.

For many years I worked at the Newsagency when Mr Croft was the proprietor. Mr Croft (or "Old Crofty" but never to his face), was a perfect gentleman. He always wore a coat and tie and a hat and during winter bestrode his premises like a lord, in a brown overcoat.

The late and great Barry O'Sullivan and I would deliver the Sunday papers. The paper truck would arrive about 4:15 am ... in those days the trip  from Broadway to Forbes took just over four hours.

If we weren't there upon the trucks arrival bundles of papers would be thrown  in all directions...and woe betide the driver if Mr Croft arrived and things were not in order.

At 4.am in the morning we would have people yelling out that their papers had not been delivered, at 5 a.m we would have complaints that the "idiot" boy in the back of the ute delivering papers had broken a window, chucked the papers on the roof or knocked out the pet corgi sleeping on the verandah.

On one spectacular morning I managed to hurl a copy of the Sunday Mirror at six full bottles of milk sitting on the top of the half closed brick verandah. The angry residents stormed into the shop demanding full payment.

As the milk had been delivered on  the Saturday morning and had been sitting on the verandah all that time Mr Croft told them the he had no case to answer,the milk was obviously sour by that time anyway.

Whilst Barry and I were out the back rolling papers..I can still smell that glue, Mr Croft would be fending off drunks. "Are you open yet?" I remember one old fellow asking Mr Croft,who was forever shooing away stray dogs. And one morning a big truck pulled up out front and the driver wanted to know if he could take a shower and did we have any diesel out the back!

Although I was an extraordinary inefficient paper boy Mr Croft asked me to do weekday deliveries.

On my first day I decided to take a shortcut up the Union Street Lane. Just as I was passing the back of Brucey Hayne's House his dog (a "Water Dog" whose name was "Lady"?...) flashed out and got tangled up in my spokes. I went down, the papers went into the mud, and that was the end of my career as a paper delivery boy.)

I still have my copy of "The Longships" that I bought from Mr Croft for 18/9d in 1962. It was a toss-up between this story about the Vikings and Ken Kesey's "One Flew Over The Cuckoos Nest".

My book is worth about $20 today, a recent copy of Kesey's book sold for $12500.Some-one in Forbes might just have this book sitting in their bookcase.

Mr Croft later sold the newsagency to Jack Bowley who was there for two years.We are all well aware of course that the job of 'Master Newsmaker" was to be taken over for a decade by John Rennick.Better known to all and friendly as "Tractor", a man not averse to striding past the faded "ETA" and "Bushells" sign on the shop wall, and into the "Postie" to hold audience with "Shiney","Mick" and other likewise intellectuals.

When I left school Mr Croft wrote me a wonderful reference saying that I was "thoroughly reliable" and "keen to work" and I was of "unblemished moral character".

Not too sure what the last point refers too but he obviously  skirted around my often determined efforts to upset some of the good folk of Forbes early on a Sunday morning all those years ago.Some great memories of life growing up in the best of towns

 Brian (Chopper) Mc Keown, Long Jetty