Brannigan, Cliff Interview

Today is 11th September 2023, and I’m privileged to be speaking to Cliff Brannigan in Havelock North. My name is Judy Shinnick, and Cliff is going to tell us about his life and memories in Hawke’s Bay. So Cliff I’m wondering if we start off with where you were born and we’ll go from there.

Yes, where I was born and where I lived and where I went to school had a bearing on my life. I was born in Dannevirke. At the outbreak of the war my father was in Pahiatua – because he was not a professional person he just had to earn a living the best way he could. And from there we went to Taranaki to a town called Manaia, and from there we went to a town called Kaponga, right underneath Mount Egmont [Mount Taranaki] [a] mile from the scenic reserve. From there I went to Patea where I was married, and then from there went to Auckland, and from Auckland we came down to Hawke’s Bay in 1971 and have been here ever since.

My education had a big bearing on my life. Even [in] primary school I struck, to me at any rate, not a very good band of teachers – in fact one was a brute. And I’m talking about when I was ten when my eldest brother was killed overseas during the war; and I saw him sling a little Maori boy across his stage, and my older brother interfered and told him to stop it. That was the only way that it was stopped.

So this is probably a good time to just ask about your family when you were growing up. So you had some siblings ..?

My great-grandfather, Patrick Brannigan, came out in the British Army from Ireland and settled at Alfredton, and he was granted land there. And my grandfather died early because he got wet – he was a bridge builder – he got wet, sat in front of the fire without changing his clothes, and developed pneumonia and died in his fifties. but I never … I only knew one of my grandparents, ever; and I only ever met her once.

Were they living elsewhere?

Well I was the youngest of six, and my mother’s parents died before … almost before they were married, and my father’s family – they were scattered, put it that way. But they were a well known name in Dannevirke. So any rate …

What about your siblings?

I had my eldest brother … went to the war and was killed in August 1942; my next brother was in the Navy – he died in his fifties; my sister died of cancer in her seventies, and so did my next sister; and then so did my brother when he was eighty-six. So I suppose you would say we weren’t a spectacular family at all.

But I hated school. I hated secondary school, absolutely loathed it.

Whereabouts?

In Hawera. I was living in Kaponga, and at Kaponga I went to primary school … rode a horse to school without a saddle, just a sack … and let him go in the football paddock and rode him home at night. And then I went to high school in Hawera. I had to catch the public bus. I think it left at seven o’clock in the morning, not sure … seven or eight, I’m not too sure. I had to ride a bike [a] mile and half then catch that, and then that was an hour’s journey into high school. So I left home very early and I didn’t get home ‘til well after five at night.

So it’s a long day …

Was a long day, and a very … what I found an unpleasant environment. My wife will disagree with that; she went to the same school, she loved it.

Is that where … you were telling me the story before about one of the teachers …

No, that was in Manaia. Without a piece of paper that you’d passed some exams and what-have-you, it’s pretty hard to earn a living.

So how many years did you have at secondary school?

Two. I left in the fourth form.

And was there a reason?

My mother got me a job in the local Post Office at Kaponga, and I worked there for a while. And then they moved to Patea and I followed them and I worked in the … I was a postman there in Patea for a while, and then I got the stitch with that. It was the ‘old school tie’ attitude in the Post Office which I didn’t like. So for a little while I was on the local power board. There was a sort of a three-man gang, but that didn’t suit me either so that’s when I went into the Freezing Works.

What age were you then?

I think I would’ve been seventeen.

Which Freezing Works?

Patea. A whole … soaking wet, eleven stone seventeen year old … working on a mutton chain which was pretty hard work.

Very physical, I guess?

But a great gang of guys to work with. A lot of them were like a father figure to me. And I must say here – and I’m certainly no racist, can’t stand that – but the Maori guys that I worked with were tremendous. It’s all I can say is they were tremendous guys. And I worked there in the Freezing Works and I did various jobs there as well.

Who were you living with at that time?

My parents.

And any other siblings?

My other brother – one brother, my next brother up. He was at home. All the rest – my sisters had gone nursing, and [of] course my brother was killed overseas; and my brother was in the Navy in Auckland, … you know, out of Auckland. Yeah.

What was life like in Patea at that time?

Patea was a very good town to earn a living for people in the Freezing Works. And when I went to a social function – and this is well after that, I was in [the] management team and what-have-you – I was asked where I worked, and I said, “Oh, [I] work in the Freezing Works.” And you could almost feel a curtain come down.

Can you tell me more about that? What was that about?

Not socially acceptable is all I can say, ‘cause that was their attitude. And really when you investigated them they didn’t have a lot to be so proud about. Anyhow, we used to go to dances in those days, you know, that was the social activity. Never had to have security guards or anything like that. [Clock chiming] [The] basketball girls’d put on a dance, and it was ‘Men two and six [2/6d]; Ladies a plate’. And at half time at the dance you’d have a supper, and cream cakes and the Works; it was lovely. And you were quite safe. There was no … didn’t seem to have any social problems in those days.

And were there plenty of people that went along to those dances?

Oh yeah! They were packed out, and that’s where I met my wife.

At one of the dances?

Yes, at a town out of Patea called Kakaramea. Yes, she hadn’t long left school but she was a secretary in the Freezing Works at Patea, in management. And things progressed and we decided we would get married

And what age were you then?

I got married when I was twenty-four so I would’ve been about twenty-two, because in those days you were engaged for quite a while.

And you were working in the Freezing Works all that time?

Yep. We were married in the Anglican Church in Patea. And we had saved up our money and we had gone up to Auckland, to Henderson which is out of Auckland, and we organised to get what was a State Advance[s] loan in those days to get a house built. So we organised all that and then went back home and waited for it to get built so it would be built in time for when we were married. That was in [on] 29th September 1956, so we’ve been married for sixty-six years. So we moved to Henderson and I had organised a job in a butcher’s shop up there, and I didn’t like that at all so I went back to the Westfield Freezing Works out at Otahuhu in Auckland.

What made you go to Henderson in the first place? ‘Cause it’s quite a big shift from Patea.

Well we didn’t want to stay in Patea and bring a family up in Patea. We wanted a broader horizon for them. Yeah, it’s interesting. Anyhow …

Cliff has just been showing me the photos of his wedding. So how long after your wedding did you go to Henderson?

Straight away. [Chuckle] Yes, we put our few possessions in a box wagon on the railway, and much to our disgust for so few possessions it was pilfered.

So did you land up in Henderson with very little?

They took what they wanted out of there. Yeah.

And then you worked in the butcher ..?

I worked as a butcher there for a while, then I went back to the Freezing Works which was the environment that I understood, and I didn’t mind. The money was better as well.

What about your wife, Dale? What was she doing in the early days in Henderson?

Well it was rather interesting, because I’d saved up all this money and I said to her, “You can get a job if you want to; if you don’t want to, don’t.” And she didn’t. She seemed to have a dream of … she just wanted to be a mother and a housewife. And she’s a very talented person … a very talented person; made our daughter’s wedding frock; she can oil paint; very good cook although she hates it, [chuckles] and yeah – she’s a very intelligent person.

How long after you moved did you have your first child?

Nine months and two weeks afterwards.

Right – and what was the name of your first child?

Mark. Where the maternity home was – in those days you went into a maternity home – was the Lawson quins first home.

Oh …

It was a ten-bed maternity home, and she was in there for ten days and sat in the sun in the morning with hot buttered scones; really quite a relaxed atmosphere. And the nurses and the sisters were like mothers to them, ‘cause she was only nineteen, I think.

Yes, so a young Mum.

They were young … they were girls, yeah.

So that was Mark …

And then ‘bout a year later we had Catherine. The last one was much slower, but they were all about a year between them.

So there was Mark, then Catherine, then ..?

Kerry, the one at Clifton; and Shane, who now lives in Auckland, still.

And are the others still in Hawke’s Bay?

Mark lives in Broadbeach in Australia; Catherine lives out [in] Middle Road, Kerry lives … well, he’s out at Clifton, and he lives at Haumoana. And Shane lives in Auckland on the North Shore. A lovely family …

Yes, it must be nice having most of them close?

They’ve been very good to us; very good to us.

Can you tell me a little bit about your family life?

Well we were pretty involved in the church in those days, and made most of our friends in Auckland because when we went there we didn’t know a soul apart from my brother who was away over in Te Atatu. [Clock chiming] But our neighbours on either side of us became our real friends. In fact our kids today still call them ‘Aunty’ and ‘Uncle’. That was the relationship; that was what it was like in those days. [The] lady on one side, she was like a mother figure to Dale, you know, advised her and all the rest of it if the kids got something wrong with them. You know, she was like a mother figure. Lovely people.

Hard without backup, isn’t it? Without family backup.

Yeah … yeah. But then most of our friends were made through the church; and we weren’t wowsers or hot gospellers, we were just normal church folk that you were in those days, which today is rather sad – we don’t have anything to do with the church any more at all. We’re just totally disillusioned. We don’t run them down or anything, we’re just totally disillusioned.

So what school did your children go to?

Well they went to the Henderson Primary. That’s right – well this has [is] an intricate part of it all – I worked at the Works, then finally the union situation was that bad I never knew whether I was going to earn a living or not because they would just stop work all the time. So I left there and I was working in butcher’s shops – well it’s sort of a mini-supermarket, put it that way.

And then my sister who was living in Palmerston North was up in Auckland visiting, so this Sunday I said to my children “Would you like to go out see Aunty Noeleen off on the aeroplane … watch the big planes?” You know what kids are like … didn’t know whether they were going to go or not. But any rate, we went out there. And then as the plane had taken off and we were walking out I ran into an old boss of mine, and I said, “Hello, Jack. I suppose you’re retired?” He said, “No, I can’t retire; they can’t find somebody to replace me.” And this is the remarkable part of my story; it was really … when you [I] think about it I’d shudder. He said, “Oh, well I’d better talk to Tony Holland”, who was the General Manager at Westfield. Now Westfield was a huge place, a massive … I got lost the first day couldn’t find my way back to my lunch room, it’s that big. Anyhow he said, “I’ll mention it to Tony Holland. If he’s interested he can give you a ring.” I said, “Yeah, okay, if you want to.”

So I went back to work and then a week later, the following Friday, I’d just come home – I used to come home Friday night for my dinner and then go back and clean all the cabinets out for the weekend – and the phone went, and it was Tony Holland. He said, “I think you might be interested in a job out here, Cliff.” I said, “Oh yeah … could be.” He said, “Well how ‘bout you come out and see me?” So [I] went out and saw him and he said, “We’re introducing a new system of boning meat”, and he said, “It’s the first one in New Zealand, and he [we’re] looking for somebody to run it. He said, “I’ll offer you the job”, and he said, “You’ll get plenty of help”, and all the rest of it. Now I had run a butcher’s shop with two people that I’d been in charge of – that’s all. But this one … oh, I don’t know … I probably had about two hundred and fifty people that I was in charge of.

Anyhow, I was given the systems that they were going to put in and read up about them and all the rest of it. So on 10th July 1967, Decimal Currency Day, I put on my first what we call the white coat in Westfield. And the first utterance from the union delegate was that he was going to bury me, I would never survive. They were bitter, nasty people; I just bided my time and then I discussed it all. And then eventually I was told that the big boss from Wellington was coming up and he wanted to see the systems. He and all his cohorts were with him … was like a real entourage … and here I was, miserable Cliff Brannigan, had to put on a demonstration, which I did. He was very friendly … he was very nice. He said to me, “Which system do you like, Cliff?” I told him and he said, “Why?” And I told him; and he turned to Tony Holland and said, “Put it in.” You know – I couldn’t believe it! Boy, it had to succeed because I think in those days, it was in ’67, it was worth $3 million. So I had to get hold of all these guys that had been working there in the old system, and [I] told them that I don’t want them to do any more or any less than I tell them.

So you were taking charge?

Very much so. The union – for the first month they never worked a full day; for a month this went on, until finally I think some people got some brains and said it was not good enough. That turned out to be a huge success. They made far more money because the system was far cleaner and more productive, and we used to bone hundreds of bodies of beef a day. And there was [were] six systems in the room and then they put on another two down below, and I was in charge of it all. I’d never been past the fourth form; I had no experience of managing people or anything.

But you developed those skills over time?

Well it was rather interesting. When I look back … and I’m not trying to be melodramatic or anything … when I look back I had a very lonely childhood and relied on myself; I didn’t sort of rely on anybody else because I was four years younger than the next brother up, and nobody was interested in – I couldn’t go to school on the weekends to play any sport or go to any functions because I couldn’t get there, so I was a loner and pretty independent, and I think that’s what came out, frankly.

In that role?

Yeah. I introduced systems that they had right until they finished, you know, and it was all so simple and ran just like clockwork, and everybody knew what was going on and all the rest of it.

And just to take a break, that’s my ninetieth birthday card from my wife, and that’s some of the gardens that I had. That was in Auckland.

In Henderson?

No, that was when I went to Auckland; it was after I’d finished working with Graeme Lowe. [Showing photos] And that’s the house at Whangamata, and Warkworth. So I’ve been around.

Yes. So tell me about Warkworth and Whangamata – are they places that you owned?

We lived there, yes, we bought them – had them built. We’ve had six new houses.

So when did you move from Henderson?

Well I’m coming to that. So the system in Auckland was very successful and then one day the boss said to me, “Come down” … I became a very special person – and I say that in all modesty – in that Freezing Works because it ran so well, and it ran so smoothly and it was so productive. Anyhow, Tony Holland who originally hired me got me to come down to his office. I went down there and he said, “I want you to go to Massey University to a course – Meat Technology.” I said, “Oh yeah, okay.” Well [I] just forget how long I went there for; quite a while, say ‘bout a month, I think. And Dale and I never liked being apart obviously, and of course she had the four kids to manage on her own.

Anyhow I went down there to Massey University, and you know, I’d only been to the fourth form, remember? And I sat in there and the first lecture came up, and I said to the person next door to me, “Is this the Meat Technology?” He said, “Yeah.” I didn’t understand what they were talking about because they had started off on first year university stuff. I’d never even heard of it, which I thought was a bit stupid, frankly, but however … I got back after it was sort of over; Tony Holland said to me, “Well, how d’you get on, Cliff?” I said, “Well, I gave it my best shot but I don’t think I did very well.” He said, “That doesn’t matter”, he said, “I just wanted to wake your brain up, that’s all.” I said, “Thanks very much!” [Chuckles] ‘Cause here I was sweating at night ‘til eleven or twelve o’clock, trying to make sense of all this stuff. So then I went back into my job; and then the next thing he rang up and said, “I want you to go down to Hastings, to Tomoana.”

So what year was that?

[19]70 … yes, ‘70. Late ’70. He said, “They’re looking for a new Assistant Works Manager, and they want to interview you.” So I came down to Tomoana and Gordon Taylor was the General Manager, [clock chiming] Lou Stewart was the Works Manager, and yes, they decided to hire me. I don’t think Lou Stewart was very keen.

Anyhow, so in 1971 we packed up in Patea. [This may be incorrect because they were living in Auckland prior to Hawke’s Bay] Dale had a cry because that was where her family were all born. And this is the necessity of earning a living.

How did you feel about coming down?

Oh, I was excited about it. Anyhow we came down here and brought the kids down here. My eldest son went to the Boys’ High School straight away … Mark; and this little kid at [in] the third form went into the First XI cricket team straight away. [Chuckle] Anyhow, we bought a house that Geoff Treacher had built in Poplar Place off Willowpark Road backing onto Akina Park, and we all settled in there.

So the children settled at school okay?

Mark went to high school, Catherine went to Karamu, Kerry was going to primary school and so was Shane. Yes.

And what was your role at Tomoana?

Assistant Works Manager. They gave me the difficult things to do. Anyhow, Lou Stewart, the Works Manager, his interpretation was, he said, “I wanted an Assistant Works Manager and they gave me a boner.” That was his attitude. But we became very, very close friends.

You and the Assistant Manager?

No, I was the Assistant Works Manager, Lou Stewart was the Works Manager.

So I was there for quite a while and then Pacific Freezing Works started to get built. And I had been overlooked as Works Manager at Tomoana; Lou Stewart went over to Patea Works and they brought Allan Edwards from head office in Wellington up and made him the Works Manager, and I was overlooked. Anyhow, I had my eye on Pacific Freezing, so to cut a long story short, about 1974 I think it was, I took that on. I applied for that [and] I got the job as Works Manager. And it was quite an interesting situation because it was owned by two different companies; one was Graeme Lowe’s Dawn Meat[s] and the other one was Richmond Farmers Co-op, [Richmond] I think it’s called, [so] you know, I was walking a tightrope between the two companies. But however, it turned out to be a huge success, and the relationship of the people working there and myself was just fantastic. They were fantastic people, but they were given a chance; they were listened to, they were talked to, they were understood. Because I’d spent most of my life in the Freezing Works I knew what it was like. So I was there until … I don’t know; and then the company decided that they needed a Freezing Works to kill mutton, [and] they decided they would build one in Dannevirke so I was given the job to get that done.

What, to oversee the build you mean?

Yeah. Just to, you know, keep the pressure on, because Whakatu had been building a Works, which is still there, at Takapau up the road and they wanted to you know, challenge them to be ready at the same time, which was a pretty big ask. However, and I won’t go into any more but the Works was called Oringi, and at Oringi it was a rather … it was not very good, put it that way. I didn’t agree with what was going on at all, so I got fed up with it in the finish and resigned. And Mum and I went up to Auckland and we bought a coffee shop in Auckland.

You and Dale? So you moved from Hawke’s Bay back up to Auckland?

Yeah. See from Poplar Place we went down to Dannevirke and we built a place on the land adjacent to the Works, which was a lovely place.

So how long were you in Dannevirke?

Probably two or three years I think, something like that.

And whereabouts did you buy the coffee shop?

Right in the centre of the city. Boy oh boy! That was an education. Pretty hard work.

What year was that Cliff?

Oh, I can’t remember to be perfectly honest.

And did your family go with you?

No, it was only Dale and I, we were on our own.

It would’ve been hard work … long hours?

Yes, very.

And where were you living?

In Titirangi, up in the ranges, and we travelled into the city each day – like, we were there at five o’clock in the morning. So we sold that, and [chuckle] of all jobs I got a job as a caretaker at a primary school. And I really enjoyed that job, I thought it was lovely, but you couldn’t live on the wages.

Which primary school was that? Out Titirangi way?

Yes. I’ve forgotten the name of it. My memory’s not the best. Yeah. And I sold real estate for a while, and as soon as I took that on the real estate market just stopped.

Oh, that was unfortunate …

Anyhow, I got a phone call one day from a person who owned a Freezing Works at Te Kauwhata, out of Auckland. And they were going broke and they wanted somebody to, you know, try and pull them out of the cart. So I went down there – I travelled from Auckland each day, and eventually we moved down there. But the dairy wouldn’t even give them credit for a bottle of milk, [chuckle] but it was just poorly managed; that’s all it was. So [I] pulled them out of the cart, and … that’s right, it was a horse factory, and you killed horses one week and then the rest of the time you killed beef. But when I went there they were not doing very much of anything.

So how long were you managing or in a management role there?

Oh, probably be about two or three years, I don’t know. And then that’s right, they decided they were going to sell that. They wanted to develop a Works over Taumarunui way. And I kept running into accountants who believed they knew all about running a Freezing Works, which they didn’t, and making stupid decisions. Anyhow, they went over to Taumarunui, and the boss’s son – again – he was supposed to be the brains and all the rest of it; and how he was going to rebuild this place and run it all – he never knew what the hell he was doing. So I got sick of this, and I just retired; full stop.

So did you go to Taumarunui?

Yep. I travelled there … I lived there during the week and came home on the weekends. At that stage we were living in Warkworth.

That’s quite a way, isn’t it?

Mmm, ‘tis quite a way. So that’s about the work life, but really it’s a life of earning a living the best way you can.

So what age were you when you retired?

Sixty.

And you stayed in Warkworth?

Yes I stayed living in Warkworth, and then Auckland found Warkworth. And when Auckland finds something … It’s just gone to … it was a lovely little village when we went there but it just ended up queues of traffic. So we went then to Whangamata, and we bought a section there and built a house in Whangamata.

You’ve built a lot of houses, haven’t you?

Yes, that’s what I say. Henderson was a new house; Poplar Place in Hastings was a new house; Oringi was a new house. We came back to Auckland … yes, Warkworth was a new house; Whangamata was a new house; and where we lived in Hapuku Street [Hastings] was a new house, because again, this is managing your finances. I believed that you’re better off to build a house than buy one that’s already built, because you can guarantee something will need fixing or painting or something, whereas if you build a new house you’ve got seven years before you have to do anything.

So did you build in Hapuku when you first came back to Hawke’s Bay?

Yes, we rented a little flat in Hastings. [Clock chimes again] Heretaunga Street -what’s the next one over?

Queen?

No, the other way.

Eastbourne?

Eastbourne. Yes. So we sold the place in Whangamata; at that stage I hadn’t had good health, and what made us come back here was that some of the family was here because I felt that if anything happened to me in Whangamata Dale was on her own. So we sold and moved down here, and I love the house in Hastings. As you can see, everywhere I lived I had a garden ‘cause I love gardening; and I had a lovely garden in Hapuku Street, it was a lovely garden. People used to stop and come in and look at it … yeah, which made me feel proud.

So was that flower gardens or vegetable gardens? No?

Had a lovely log fire, and I used to go out and cut my own firewood out on my daughter and son-in-law’s farm. But when we moved in here and I left there – I sound a bit of a sissy, but I don’t mind admitting that I shed a tear when I left there. I loved that house. That was the most convenient house I’ve ever lived in in my life.

Was that your favourite house?

Yes.

What year did you leave that house to come here, Cliff?

A year ago.

Oh, so you’ve been here a year … so you would’ve been in Hapuku Street quite some time?

Twenty years near enough; well, nineteen and a half or something like that. Yeah.

And how have you found your retirement years?

Frustrating.

Can you tell me more about that?

Well I’ve always been a person to do things, and I’ve never been a scholar, put it that way; but I’ve been practical. In fact Dale said if she was stranded on a desert island the one person she’d like to be with was me, because I’m practical. But you know, I’ve built things myself and did things myself; and here again, coming back to this independence, I relied on myself, and that’s where my early life, comes into focus; I was a little boy who became lonely, and you know, when I was going to primary school, mainly from 1942 on I was quite a lonely little boy. And even, you know, my first job in Kaponga in the Post Office – I was fifteen and I was boarding, and had to fend for myself. So all that sort of independence comes out … I feel at any rate … comes out in my life.

And now as well?

Yeah. I haven’t got … well of course most of my friends and relations are dead, [chuckle] ‘cause I am ninety-one. But put it this way, it was a necessary decision; it was my kids who got me to do it. They talked to us because Dale’s degenerating; so am I, and at least here we have the opportunity of going into further care. And we’re getting used to it and more accepting of it than what we were.

Well it’s a big change, isn’t it?

Well you’re going from a three-bedroomed house to a two-roomed apartment.

And there’s a lot that you have to give away before you move …

Well you have to give away half your life, you know, things that were precious to us. Even … I don’t care [mind] admitting, you know, all my old tools and all that sort of thing. I gave my son my trailer and my chainsaws and all that sort of stuff.

That’s a huge transition …

That’s not very nice actually. But no, I think it was the right decision. That doesn’t mean to say that I have to like it.

No. No, but you’re coming to that acceptance. And do you see your family a lot?

See [my] daughter and my son who live here, yeah … see them quite often. We were out at Kerry’s cafe yesterday. [Manages Hygge at Clifton] He’s a remarkable boy. Well they all are really.

All doing different things …

My eldest son has been over in France touring around for a month. For a month!

So you haven’t told me about grandchildren?

Cathy’s got two, Todd … and this is an interesting feature. Patrick Brannigan came out as I said in the British Army from Ireland and to cut a long story short he settled in Alfredton. My grandson, Todd, met a girl down the South Island whose family had a farm in Alfredton – and I’m cutting a lot of years off – which they bought off the family. And that’s where Patrick Brannigan settled when he came out to New Zealand …

Amazing!

… so it’s gone right round the circle. And my grandson has three girls …

So that’s Todd?

… no, two girls and a boy.

So you’ve got three great-grandchildren there. Todd is one of Catherine’s children and Nicola is her daughter?

Yeah, and she has two boys, Harry and Lachie, so that’s five great-grandchildren. My son, Mark, and his wife, Julie, has [have] two children, a boy and a girl. And their son, Geoffrey, has one child. So we’ve got eight great-grandchildren.

You’ve mentioned two of your children; what about the youngest two, have they got family?

That’s right, Kerry out at Clifton, his son, Joshua, has one boy, so that’s another great-grandchild. Kerry’s other two boys … my mind goes blank every now and again …

Dale: Ned and George.

Cliff: George is a downhill mountain biker; he’s not married, and Ned … I don’t know, he does filming and things, and he’s not married.

So that’s nine great-grandchildren altogether. So Cliff I’m wondering if there’s anything else that you want to share with me before we finish

Not really, no. I can’t think of anything more.

Well thank you very much for what you’ve shared.

Well it’s really a story of making a living where you can. Would you say that, Dale?

Dale: You’ve never been afraid of hard work, that’s for sure.

Cliff: No, but I say our married life really has been earning a living where you can. But it hasn’t been easy, but I don’t know whether I would change it because I’m no scholar, and I don’t want to be one. [Chuckle] It’s like cell phones – I don’t like cell phones, I haven’t got one and I don’t want one.

Fair enough too. Well that’s probably a good place to leave it, Cliff.

Mmm.

Okay, thank you very much.