Sons of a Good Keen Man by The Crump Brothers

Author:The Crump Brothers [The Crump Brothers]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781761047190
Publisher: Penguin Random House New Zealand
Published: 2013-04-08T00:00:00+00:00

Barry enjoys a beer at the Newmarket Hotel, 1972.

They went looking for a flat in town. They found one in Newmarket and moved straight in.

I’d made the senior pennant team at the club, so I had new goals for my golf and new people to play with. I would remain a member there for the next decade and make some wonderful friends, some of whom are still friends today.

I visited Barry and Robin at the flat two or three times a week. Bryce had taught me how to play the guitar. Barry had shown me a thing or two as well, including ‘Bad Blue’, the song he had written and recorded. I remember playing Barry and Robin my full repertoire on the guitar. That’s about three songs. While they were tucked up in bed, I’d serenade them, then head home.

It was late on a Sunday afternoon, on one of my visits, when Barry asked me what was open for a drink and a meal. I suggested we head out to one of the hotels by the airport. Barry put on his brown vinyl jacket, patted his thinning hair forward and the pair of us headed out. We found a hotel that looked busy enough and went inside.

A busload of tourists had just arrived and, for whatever reason, Barry decided to greet them all individually as they stepped down off the bus; he was very funny with his usual helping of charm. He won everyone over immediately, including the staff of the hotel, who couldn’t believe Barry Crump was doing this with their guests.

After this impromptu meet and greet, Barry asked the staff if the restaurant was open. They said no, not for another hour or two, but the chef would make an exception for us and open the restaurant – just for our table for two.

We ate a great meal of steak, eggs, onion and chips. Barry asked the waiter to run a bottle of red wine under the hot tap for a few minutes. We cleaned that up, too, as it washed down our dinner. No sooner had we demolished this, Barry said we’d like the same again – meal and wine. We were stuffed full.

We ended up with a small crowd at our table while Barry entertained us all. As you would expect, I paid the bill and we headed home.

I look back at my father at times like this and think what a gift he had.

But the signs were all there – I’d seen it before – Barry was getting ready to leave Auckland and the city life once again. He was accumulating funds with which to hit the road some time soon. He had recently done an advertisement for Scrumpy dog food. He’d also done some deal for which he was given a second-hand Vauxhall car as part of the payment.

We would still, every now and then, meet at Waitākere for a game of golf. Barry was driving me home after a game one day; I was in the back seat, with Barry and Robin in the front.

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