At the age of 15 years and 9 months I ran away from my home in Canberra, as the situation at home had become untenable.  I decided to hitch hike to Sydney to try to start a new life.  The distance was about 176 miles.  My older brother, an apprentice car mechanic, gave me £3 (Three Pounds).  He wished me luck.  

After walking for about 3 hours, I was about 20 miles along the shores of Lake George when I was picked up by a Protestant priest.  He had two young girls with him who he introduced as his daughters.  I was carrying my worldly possessions in a small suitcase which the priest put in the back.  He asked me where I was going. I said "Sydney"; he asked me "Why?".   I said I had run away from home and would never go back.  He did not ask any more questions. 

The priest dropped me at Goulburn in NSW, nearly halfway to Sydney, at a service station where I bought a coke because I was thirsty.  Evening was fast approaching, so I started to hitch hike, hoping to get a ride.

No luck. Night was falling, and I was about 4 miles out of town.  No houses, no lights, no cars.  What to do?  It was a cold night.

I looked around and saw a large tree.  Climbing the fence, I decided I would sleep there the night under cover, it didn’t look like rain.  I took some of the clothes out of the suitcase and put them on.  I was very warm

I am not sure what time it was. It was very dark. I heard snuffling sounds.  Very scared, I curled up tight.  Maybe a kangaroo? ... I don't know.  I covered my head and tried to sleep.

More noises... very, very scared ... rustling sounds.  “What is it???”  Eventually the sounds went away.  I fell into a very tired sleep.

Day light came.  I looked around and saw I had climbed into a paddock full of cows who had come to investigate the strange goings on.   I thought "Hope there is no bull!"

I took off my extra clothes, climbed back over the fence, put my thumb out and continued to hitch hike.

My next ride, about an hour later, was with a woman who said she was going to Marrickville in Sydney.  Would that suit me?  I said, "That is where I want to go".  I am guessing we arrived in Marrickville at about lunch time.  I remember lots of traffic, noise, people everywhere...it was very busy, very scary.

Eventually I gathered enough courage to ask if there was any accommodation nearby.  One man said there was a place called 'The Hubb' which was for men only.  I found the place and asked for a room.  £1 (One Pound) per week, no food, no grog, no visitors, no knives or guns allowed.

I moved in, asking where I could buy something to eat.

A man dressed in lady's clothing standing in the kitchen asked me what I was doing there.  I told him I was looking for work.  I had never seen a man in such clothes.  He, she, was confusing me.  I asked him why he was dressed like that, as I’d assumed The Hubb was ‘men’s only’ accommodation.  He said he liked to be dressed like that.  This made no sense to me.  He also said The Hubb was home to alcoholics, drug addicts and unemployed men and that I should be very careful. …

Lou Sigmund
July 15, 2024

Birds generally have three toes, and, using a combination of different holes on the webbing between different toes we can keep track of our various breeding pairs.   It’s a little bit like branding a horse or a dog or cow.

I tried very hard to explain the tool to the guards.

The information did not sink in, and the guards hand cuffed me. 

I was at a loss as to what to say next.  One guard left the room and sometime later came back with someone I can only guess was his supervisor, who examined the object and told the guard to take off my hand cuffs.  I rubbed my wrists, then asked for a pen and paper which was given to me. 

I drew a picture of two chooks’ feet and tried very hard to explain again what I meant.  I punched holes in the paper. 

The supervisor’s face lit up and with a great grin he said, “Now I know what you mean!”.  He said he had never seen anything like it and had learnt a great deal that day about chickens.

They did not apologize.  I packed my bag and was escorted to the main hall.  The look on my wife’s face said it all!

We travelled home in a serious mood.  Then the funny side struck us.  All we could do was laugh at the situation as we realised that not many people know what a toe punch is.
​ 

​Lou Sigmund
November 2023
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While looking for a gift for my 16-year-old grand-daughter in a jewellery store, I saw a diamond that brought back memories.

In 2002 I had an office at the Spring Street end of Collins Street, Melbourne, where all the expensive and upmarket stores were situated.  On my daily walks I would sometimes see a family who appeared to be of Arabian descent – husband walking out front, followed by his many wives and children, all carrying shopping bags.

I was to meet this man under very different circumstances. 

My secretary rang to ask if I could see a man on short notice as he had to fly out to Dubai that day.  I said “Yes, send him in”. 

In swooshed an Arabian dressed gentleman who bowed and introduced himself as Prince Abdul El Bili*, seventh son of Sheik Hammud El Farah Bili* of Dubai.  We shook hands, western style.

In his left-hand Prince Abdul held a small suitcase bound in crocodile skin and gold edging, about the size of a large cigar box.  After polite conversation and enquiries about my health, I asked if I had seen him walking down Collins Street with his family.  He smiled and said, “Having three wives who love to shop has its problems”.  I said, “I have similar a problem, but I only have one wife”.  We both laughed.

I politely asked how I could help him.  He said he and his brothers were in Australia, interested in buying businesses.  They had just returned from Western Australia.

“What type of industries are you interested in?”

Prince Abdul laid the beautiful box on the table and opened the combination locks.

To my total amazement, it was full of diamonds, Argyle Diamonds.  There were large stones, many small stones, glittering purple as he poured them onto the table. 

I reached for the phone and asked my wife, who was also my business partner, to join us.  I wanted a witness to this astonishing event.

My wife walked in, her eyes widening as she saw what was on the table.  After introducing her to the prince, my wife, in a very squeaky voice, asked me “Are we going to buy them?”  I did not answer.

I asked the prince what he wanted to do with the gems.  He said that they were for sale and that he had been told I might be interested. 

​I explained that I was not a diamond merchant but could give him phone numbers of people to call who may be able to help him.
 
I asked the prince what he thought the stones were valued at and what his asking price was.  He said he thought around $7,000,000 – but that was just a rough guess, he was looking for someone to value them properly.

My wife picked up two of the largest stones and in a trembling voice asked me “Could we not have just two?” 

The prince arose, packing the diamonds in their case.  He thanked me for my time, saying that he would come to see me on his next trip, and he did.

I have seen the prince many times since.  We became business partners and firm friends.  We spent many happy hours with his family when they were in Australia.

 
Lou Sigmund
October 2023
 
*Not their real names

**Feeling nostalgic...? Finding it hard these days to stroll leisurely along Collins Street?  Check out https://thecuriousreport.com/collins-street/
​

I was born in a displaced persons camp in a village named Trofaiach in Austria.  The camp held approximately 11 thousand refugees from all over Europe.  The camp had a school, a shop and was guarded by British soldiers. 

My mother was from Slovenia and dressed in the national dress of Slovenia.  We kids wore embroidered white shirts and lederhosen.  The pants were made from cow hide and were very thick.  The braces to keep up the pants were also embroidered.  White long socks and stout leather boots completed the outfit.  The embroidery was stitched by my mother in the winter months as the snow was very deep and no travel was possible. 

​We kids, there were four of us, were normal kids as we often got into trouble, as kids do.

Once when we came home late from school – it gets dark early in the mountains – Mum found us playing in the village pond, which had geese and ducks swimming in it.  She came skiing down the hill carrying a big stick.  We knew we were in trouble.  She beat us and made us go home.  
​
That night my older brother asked if Mum’s whack with the big stick hurt.  We all said that we cried out when she hit us, but the lederhosen took all the punishment.  We all just giggled and did not tell Mum we could not feel any pain.  We went to sleep happy.

Lou Sigmund
​August 2023

The soldiers were carrying shovels.  One had a wide green sheet and I watched as he dragged it to the back of the buildings away from where anyone lived. 
 
I was three-years old, I think.
 
I wanted to know what was going on, so I followed.  The soldiers dug a long ditch and erected the green sheet along the front.  I asked the man what this was for, not understanding what he said in reply, as he spoke funny.
 
Some men came and started to pee in the ditch.  I went with them around the sheet and also had a pee.  Standing with the grownups I felt very proud, this was great fun!  Some of the men took their pants down and had a shit.  It stunk.
 
I watched as more men came and did the same.
 
I ran back to mum and very excitedly told her what had happened.
 
She shouted at me and said never to go there again. 
 
“Why Mum?” 
 
No answer. 
 
That night, as we (I have one older brother and one sister) were waiting for mum to get the river stones hot on the small wood stove and to wrap the stones in towels to put in the bed so we would not freeze, I told them of my adventure.  My sister was not interested, but my older brother said he was going to have a look tomorrow.
 
I had told him about the men pissing and shitting in the trench and, as he was two years older, he explained this was a latrine made by the British soldiers who were there to protect us from the Russians.  My brother knows everything.
 
Next morning there was no school, so we went to have a look.  Boy, did the hole in the ground stink!  Emil said he would ask to see what was going on as there were lots of soldiers, maybe one thousand or more.  He also said there was going to be a big war with lots of blood and stuff.
 
 
I was born and lived in a misplaced persons camp in a small village called Trofaiach in Austria.  The war had ended.  Food was scarce.  The shop in the camp sold very little so mum had to get a job digging potatoes in the field to feed and clothe us.  We had to go with her, watching her digging potatoes as we sat and played under the trees. 
 
One day I saw a soldier give my mother a pair of stockings and my sister a wafer biscuit.  I was green with envy, a wafer biscuit, wow!   She sat on the hut steps and ate it. 
 
The huts were long straight buildings with ten rooms, one family in each room.  One big bed in the middle, one small table with a tiny black skinny stove in the corner on which our milk was heated.  The soot from the chimney fell into our food many times.  We were always hungry.
 
I cannot remember what my father looked like, or when he was in the camp.  He must have been there because my mother had another baby, my younger brother, Fred.  Later in life I found the divorce papers.  He went to Brazil.  My mother never spoke of him.
 
Life in camp was okay.  We went to school, which I liked.  Our teacher was a tall man who wore a black flat hat with a tassel and a black gown over his shoulders.  He carried a long wooden stick which would come from nowhere and hit us on the back of the hand if we made any mistakes.  No talking.  No whispering.  He was mean.  I did okay.
 
There was talk at the camp that people were being sent to America, Canada and Australia, but only 700 people were allowed to go.  The camp at this time housed around 11,000 people. 
 
I can only assume that my mother had had enough of the camp and was looking for a way out.  As I later found out, she met a man who was to become the terror of my life and would later become my stepfather.  At the time my mother would have been 24 years old, with four young kids and no husband.  This man was 20 years older and was a way out of the camp.
​
 
Lou Sigmund
August 2023