TOMMY TIPPETT

As regular readers to this blog will know I started this to promote a book I was writing. I had read that every aspiring author had to have a platform to promote his or her book. A platform can be a blog, website, Facebook or Twitter. Just one of them or if possible all of them.

You would also be aware that very little of this blog has pertained to my Tommy Tippett book. I finished the 85,000 word draft of the book in November after six weeks of writing and soonafter started the first edit.

I had completed around 70 pages of editing when I just got sick of it. I placed the book away and have just today returned to it after six weeks away.

I am now ready to go full-steam ahead to finish the editing process by the end of January.

To celebrate I am going to include an excerpt from the book.

Any comments, queries or questions would be appreciated.

Christmas school holidays were always a favourite time for Tommy, it wasn’t just that there was no school, it was a whole range of things. The days were long and hot so he had lots of time to play and explore. Some days he would walk down to the beach, whilst on other balmy, summer days he would just make up games and play with Ace. But the favourite of all summer pastimes was going to work with granddad on the truck.

In the summer granddad left home very early in the morning to do the first beach run. He had to empty all the garbage bins on the beach before the summer crowds arrived. Tommy would get himself up and dressed and have a bowl of cereal or a slice of toast before running outside to where granddad would be filling up the truck with petrol which was just a little bit of a chore.

There was an ancient petrol tank located at the back of the house the tank was necessary when granddad had a fleet of trucks and rather than fill up at a petrol station granddad had the fuel tank installed. Even though the fleet of trucks were gone the tank remained and it was filled every six months or so.

Tommy followed granddad to the pump. “Granddad, can I come with you today?” Tommy always asked if he could go with his grandfather even though he already knew the answer.

“You want to climb on board a dirty old garbage truck, ride around the beach picking up rubbish with your old granddad when you could be swimming at the beach or playing with your dog?” Granddad said this as he placed an oversized watering can on the ground near the petrol bowser.

Tommy automatically went to the long handle of the petrol bowser, grabbed it with both hands and started pumping petrol from the tank below the ground up through a pipe and into the glass bowl high up on the bowser. Tommy loved watching the honey-coloured petrol rush into the bowl and fill it.
“That’ll do Eck, we only need two gallons.”

Tommy stopped pumping and watched as granddad released a valve that allowed all the petrol in the glass bowl to escape, down a rubber hose and into the watering can. The can filled, granddad started to walk up the driveway towards the truck, the heavy petrol-filled can in one hand, the other arm thrust out to the side to balance the operation.

“Well I suppose if you don’t have any more pressing engagements or you don’t have to go to school or meet the Prime Minister, you can come.”

“Oh granddad you know it is school holidays,” Tommy said laughing.

“Well I forgot.”

“No you didn’t granddad.”

“Well I might have, you don’t know everything Eck.”

This was a well practiced ritual between them both. Granddad wasn’t the sort of man who would answer with a simple yes or no when the conversation could be dragged out somewhat.

They arrived at the battered old Ford tip truck, a truck that granddad had owned for almost 10 years. It was a sturdy old truck with a red cabin and green painted wooden sideboards on the tray.
On the drivers side door a skilled sign writer had penned the words in sturdy, black block letters: Thomas Tippett, General Carrier, Wellington Street Bondi, XY873408. The same sign writer had adorned other parts of the truck with scrolls and swirls, which gave the old Ford a jaunty look.
Granddad had once told Tommy that he had every truck he ever owned decorated by a sign writer.

“Why granddad?” Tommy had asked.

“Why Eck?” Well to make the truck attractive and to stand out from other trucks of course. What would you rather ride in a plain old sad truck or a truck like ours that is decorated and happy?” Granddad stood hands on hips looking at Tommy waiting for his answer.

“A truck like ours.’ Tommy answered without hesitation.

“Of course you would. Why when I had a horse and cart I used to get a sign writer to put all manner of swirls and lah-de-dah’s all over the horse, to make him happy and noticeable,”

“Really granddad?” Tommy was looking at his grandfather thoughtfully trying to weigh up the pros and cons between truth and tale.

“Oh Eck when have I ever told you anything that wasn’t absolutely a hundred percent true?” Granddad gave Tommy a hurt look.

“Yesterday when you told me at breakfast that too much honey is bad for you as it can make buzz instead of talk.” Tommy had now placed his hands on his hips and looked directly at his granddad.

“Well I thought I had read that in a scientific magazine, I must have got my facts mixed up, I was probably thinking of elephants.”

Tommy did not even try to fathom granddads response as he was so used to his wonderful nonsense.