Hard Cuddles. James Harding

a plush Camberwell-type arrangement. Mum loved that Dad was still house proud, even though it was humble.

      When Mum met Big Al she was amazed at how affectionate he was for those times. He was always hugging and kissing Dad. Think about that for one second—Big Al was born in 1911 and he was a hugger and kisser, he was way ahead of his time. Dad was very much the parent and had to keep Big Al on a tight leash. Mum loved going to the pub with Big Al and this suited him perfectly. He was very proud to show his mates down at the Carters Arms Hotel his boy and his lovely new partner.

      Mum and Dad married and Big Al sold the Northcote property to give them enough money to put a deposit on our house in McKinnon. He lived with them till he passed away of stomach cancer. Just before he passed, he told Mum that he could see her with three beautiful children. How amazing is that? That’s exactly what Mum ended up having.

      I would love to have met Big Al, I think we would have been a great combination down at the pub. He had this pool cue that he always used at his local. Dad managed to grab it when he passed away. They called him the master at the pool table. I had it framed with his service number, nickname and a few nice photos of him and Claire. It’s a nice memory and a fitting tribute.

      HEAVEN WITH FRIENDS LIKE THESE

      ‘Growing apart doesn’t change that fact, that for a long time we grew side by side; our roots will always be tangled. I’m glad for that.’

      — Ally Condie

      My first day of grade prep went like any other grade prep’s: I walked in with my Fraggle Rock school bag and noticed the kid next to me had a Fraggle Rock school bag. We became best friends, simple as that. To this day I haven’t had another friend like him.

      Carlos is his name, as in Carlos the Jackal. This bloke always seemed to be able to give people the slip when he was in the gun. Carlos was of rich Albanian heritage, he had an awkward pear-shaped body, with shoulders like pier pylons and big child-bearing hips. Carlos had an unusual capsicum-shaped head and liked to wear his baseball caps backwards, still does. Carlos was a big tracksuit wearer. Carlos was very street smart, he was a little hustler from way back. Out of all the friends I have had in my life, this shifty prick is the bloke I love the most. We have been through so much together.

      There was another guy called Slick. This bloke had a new identity every week. He was always trying some new look or style. Slick was a full-blown professional liar. Slick's mum and my mum were friends, so we became friends as well. The one thing about this peanut was that he really knew how to get under my skin.

      One day he gave me the shits in class. He was what you call a habitual line-stepper. I told him I was going to whip his ass at playtime, the whole class heard about it. Everybody was amped. I sat there in class, took my windcheater off and started to tie a knot with one of the arms. I was trying to fashion a mace and chain. When the bell went we all ran out into the middle of the grounds. It was sunny and I moved Slick around, so the sun was directly in his eyes. Then I started whipping the shit out of him with my weapon. I gave Slick a good old-fashioned flogging. There were people all around us, not dissimilar to Russell Crowe in Gladiator. At least that’s how I felt.

      Slick had this ass-whooping coming for a long time, I whacked away at this prick until I backed him up onto the cyclone fence. Old Slick couldn’t do a thing but lean up against the fence and wait till I was finished. He was crying like Nick Riewoldt. The only negative for me was that the ass-whooping was right in front of the teachers’ lounge. These teachers had full view of my epic performance on the playground. I should have asked ‘Are you not entertained?’

      The loudspeaker roared, ‘Can James Harding please come to the office?’ All the kids started cheering and I threw a hand in the air. I was really working the crowd now and I started a slow jog back to the office. The crowd couldn’t get enough as I exited the arena. Poor Slick was a crumpled mess, leaning up against the cyclone fence alone and crying.

      I was a hyperactive individual who looked a lot like a skinny hamster. I had a bowl haircut like Moe from The Three Stooges. Mum thought the haircut made me look handsome, I was by far the naughtiest kid and was always getting in trouble for distracting the class. My concentration levels were that of a goldfish. I would easily get bored and start entertaining the classroom. Evidently my routine wasn’t as appreciated by the teachers as some of my classmates and I would often end up in the principal’s office. Now you would think as a mate, you would want to keep this news from parents. Oh no, not my friends. They couldn’t wait to run out to my Mum and tell her what trouble I’d been up too.

      So there was this dash that happened at my primary school every afternoon at 3:30. I would rush to the door to be the first person to leave class. My mum would either by waiting in the car or near the car and as soon as that bell went I would take off running, sprinting and shepherding my friends from Mum. If she was in the car I would start screaming at her as soon as I could see her, ‘MUM, START THE CAR, LET’S GO, START THE CAR!’ Or if Mum was standing near the car I would sprint and yell ‘MUM, LETS GO, C’MON ENOUGH TALKING, LET’S GET OUT OF HERE!’ Meanwhile as this is all going on, my mates are running behind me yelling ‘MRS. HARDING, YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN WHAT JAMES DID TODAY, MRS. HARDING.’ No wonder I have trust issues, what the hell is that crap? Staunch crew, can you just imagine what Mum must have thought? What a bunch of give-ups.

      To be fair I was always a bit different to the rest of the kids in my class. Things that ‘normal’ kids love doing like winning at sports and doing well academically never really interested me. Sure, I would happily participate if asked, but in truth it didn’t really faze me whether I was included or not. My passion was conversing about life and nature, swimming in the sea, going on adventures, fishing, camping, and collecting bugs and insects. School did not interest me at all, it was just mundane, there was no excitement to it.

      My sister and I were both very similar, a couple of misfits. We would often sit together to eat lunch. She understood. It wasn’t as if we were outcasts. The other kids included us, we just thought differently. We were very deep emotional children. I can honestly say from grade six onwards was when all the other kids started to mature. Then we both really came into our own. But up until then it was a little lonely. But that was fine by me, I loved and still love my own company.

      OAKLEIGH MACCAS BRICK DROP

      ‘We cant be brave without fear.’

      — Muhammad Ali

      As a young fella, my Dad was always my hero. We have a very deep connection and the trust and understanding we have goes back many lifetimes. He is a good, strong man who prides himself on being honest and direct. I can rely on Dad and I have always felt safe with him.

      One night we headed off to Maccas in Oakleigh. This was a huge deal because Maccas wasn’t everywhere at this stage and families used to cook every night. So going out for dinner was big deal and, correct me if I’m wrong, but McDonald’s used to taste good.

      I shouldn’t really remember this story at all, but my memory for some things is astonishing. As we got to Maccas, I went into the children’s playground and Mum and Dad went to order. I remember playing away and then in came this slightly older kid. My senses went off and I started watching him.

      This kid looked over to me and said ‘You see that big rock over there?’ and I said, ‘Yes’. He told me he was going to smash it over my head. I won’t ever forget the feeling of sheer terror as this kid walked over to the rock to pick it up. It was absolutely terrifying. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t scream, I couldn’t do anything. I just stood there and waited for my fate at the hands of a psychotic juvenile at Oakleigh McDonald’s.

      As the kid made his way over to me, the playground door opened and a deep voice said, ‘Where do you think you are going with that?’ It was Dad. I immediately felt safe and knew everything was going to be okay. The kid dropped the rock and Dad came and gave me a cuddle. I remember being pretty shaken up. Dad has always been a super emotional and affectionate person, so when he hugs you, well, you stay hugged. As a child it was really wonderful to have a Dad around that cared, you just knew he was always going to be in your corner. His timing and his ability to make us all feel safe, carries