I arrived in Melbourne the first week in October 1958, a few days after the VFL Grand Final. To the uninitiated, the VFL Grand Final is by far the most important event of the year for almost every red-blooded person living in Victoria, even more important than the Melbourne Cup, which comes in second. Consequently my arrival was totally unnoticed.

It was about three kilometres from the Ponds Gate Guard House to the Village and I followed the dusty beetle at a respectable distance wondering if everyone drove so fast or was he putting on a show for my benefit. We stopped beside a long, narrow wooden hut which had a verandah facing east where half a dozen guys sat enjoying a drink or six. I walked over and introduced myself. 'Hi, I'm Barry Rumble,' he answered. 'How long have you been in the circus?' was his first question. 'Only two years, three months,' I replied, 'How about you?' 'Nearly eight years, mostly here and in Sydney.

By the middle of 1960 our part-time wrought-iron furniture making business had built up to the extent that Neville and I were actually making some money and providing it continued to grow and the army didn't throw a spanner in the works, I envisaged taking my discharge in June 1961 and working at it full time. I think the army was able to read my mind because shortly after my birthday in July, I was called to the C.O.'s office.