Australia Post has made headlines in recent weeks and the news reminded one former Forbes resident of his career in decades past as the local casual postman ... Brian McKeown shares his recollections of those years. It's a great read!

During the late 1950's and early 1960's I was a "Telegram Boy" working for The Forbes Post Office under the command of the late and great Peter Shine.

Mr Shine, who worked his magic on this amazing machine out the back of the post office would tear off the message, from a machine that looked like it was invented by Jules Verne, look about for some useless teenager out the back, place the telegram in a yellow envelope tinged with blue borders and say "Go"!

Almost without exception the recipient lived at the top of that great hill near the hospital or at the end of Johnson Street.

If you had to deliver to someone living in South Forbes you could be expected to be attacked by gangs of rabid dogs. I am pretty sure we were "timed" to ensure the recipient received this vital information (I think they were mostly racing tips) within daylight hours.

Anyway, because I was always subservient to the boss, was never late and always polished my leather telegram bag I was offered the position of "Relieving Postman" during the school holidays.

Mr Hohnburg and Mr Sullivan were the regular postmen but obviously they had to go on holiday, sometimes.

It was decided that I would relieve each, but they would need to go on holiday during the school vacation, if they wanted my extraordinary skills as a deliverer of mail, to maintain their reputations.

Mr Yates, the Principal of Forbes High, would take a pretty dim picture of one of his less able students delivering mail when he could have been in class.

Well Mr Sullivan told me he was going to Darwin for his holiday. When the big day came I turned up at the Post Office, sorted the mail, (does the Forbes Post office still have that amazing wall of pigeon holes?) I packed my letters into a huge leather bag, clipped it to a bike whose weight would rival that of a small car, and took off, you guessed it, to South Forbes.

As I was scooting towards the river I was naturally attacked by members of Canis Canae, you just put your feet on the handlebars and hoped for the best.

I duly delivered my letters without further mishap and returned my bike next to a massive pile of red bikes, mostly piled up waiting to be repaired.

Somewhat chuffed that I had delivered all my mail I dropped my bag in the back office and was then told in no uncertain terms, by folk who will remain nameless, that I should come back at knock-off time.

For the next three weeks of that stint and for some years after I delivered my mail, suffered attacks by dogs, was once knocked off my bike by, of all things, a baby camel, and in a moment of madness decided to cross Johnny Woods Bridge during a flood.

Needless to say letters, big bag and bike to this day most likely still laying on the bottom of Lake Forbes.

So each day I reported for work, delivered my letters and went home to enjoy those paid hours between 1 and 5pm, reading Phantom and Blackhawk comics, annoying 'Old Tip" our red kelpie dog and generally getting on my Mum's nerves.

Ironically I turned up to sign off for the day a little after five o'clock one Friday and the relieving Postmaster came storming out of his office and berated me for my inefficiency, telling all and sundry that he ran a tight ship and if you couldn't cope with the expectations of The Postmaster General you would be sacked on the spot.

Peter Shine, who was standing behind him, gave me the biggest grin, we later went out the back and nearly died laughing.

Brian McKeown, Long Jetty