Ode to Barry.

My mate Barry died last week. He was only 86 years young, and only three weeks before I watched him put an engine into a Daimler. Testicular cancer, fellas.... please don't ignore the signs like Barry did.

Barry was a young 'un during WW2. He was a country bloke through and through having been born in Grenfell (NSW) and then lived in the surrounding area all his life.

He's been a bar tender, a shearer, a stock hand.... all those trades that roam the Aussie bush. He used to say at the end of a shearing day, "well fellas, all shearers are going to heaven, because this work is hell on earth".

He was the bloke we all went to if we needed help for anything. He always had a smile on his face, could crack a joke that would make you laugh, always there to offer a hug. I would be exhausted after a day at the computer for cash, after doing farm work before and after, and he would come over and laugh and say, hard work at least makes the day go by quick. He was the bloke that I keep telling you guys that said "put all the Greens into a boat, drown them and then rub out their footprints"; in this jovial tone that just made you crack up.

My own dad died a while back, and Barry took over that role. As well as being my friend. I miss him. They don't make them like him anymore.