Robin

Chapter 2: tragedy and change

Halfway through my third year at school, my father was killed in a freak industrial accident. His job required him to make occasional errands from his office into the company's work yard. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, a crane toppled over onto him killing him instantly.

For some time my family was in a shambles: shock, grief, confusion. We didn't seem to know what to do. Fortunately, the compensation payment came through fairly promptly - six months after the accident.

Mum thought we were rich. She bought us a new house - four bedrooms in an outer suburb, a new car, computer, TV and more. It was great and it helped us to get over the loss of our dear Dad.

The money ran out rather quickly. But Mum had got a full-time job at a wholesale distribution centre. Back to driving forklifts and moving stuff about. It was shift work, but suited her much better and bought in the income we needed to meet our needs (or so it seemed).

Without Dad, the cooking and housework were a problem. Mum's cooking efforts were pretty hopeless and we mostly relied on pre-prepared or frozen meals and takeaway. The cleaning and laundry was done piecemeal. Frankly, the house was generally a mess.

There were some exceptions. I kept my room tidy, but had no real interest in my clothes. Brett was the other way around - his room was mostly untidy, but he was always well dressed. Jason was probably the biggest slob of us all.

I'll take credit for the small beginnings of the positive changes. When I was about ten or so, I began to do a bit of light cooking, mainly snacks for lunch such as toasted sandwiches, grilled cheese, scrambled eggs and so on. I rather enjoyed it and the food was much better than re-heated pizza or microwaved Asian takeaway.

Soon my two brothers were asking me to make stuff for them, so I did. I started to go with Mum when she did the grocery shopping and added salads and simple fried dishes to my repertoire.

I found Dad's old cookbooks with his neat margin notes that made the recipes so easy to understand. I decided to try for a 'big one'. I was twelve years old.

It was a spicy beef soup with a variety of ingredients. I got all the stuff I needed when I went shopping with Mum one Saturday morning. It took me all afternoon to make (I would get quicker over time).

I served it for dinner that evening with crusty bread rolls. I'd made a huge pot of the soup and expected to have plenty left over for lunches and snacks. No, they ate the bloody lot. But I couldn't be annoyed, my family heaped praise on the soup and on me, and encouraged (demanded?) that I continue to develop my 'cooking talents'.

What I should mention at this stage, is that I was bit of a loner in my social life. I did have a few friends at school, both male and female, but outside of school . . . well, I might spend some time with my brothers, but mostly I was by myself. I didn't mind it at all, I liked my own company.

My Saturdays and then my Sundays became occupied with cooking and I provided the family meals for the weekend.