My name is Jacqui Halpin. I set up this blog to introduce the world to my father, Jack Turner. He’s 86 years old, doesn’t have a computer and wouldn’t know what to do with one if he did. My Dad grew up in a very different Australia. And if you ask him he’ll tell you they were better days. He grew up on a farm called Misery, near the little town of Rylstone, NSW, Australia. There were three Jack Turners in Rylstone. Jack had jet black hair so he was nicknamed Black Jack Turner. Jack is a piece of living Australian history, a remarkably resourceful man, a possessor of bushman skills that are fast disappearing, and a born storyteller. Jack doesn’t own a mobile phone and thinks Twitter is what birds do, but if you ever get bogged on an outback road, or stranded in the bush, he’s the man you’d want by your side. Who needs a GPS when you have bushman tracking skills? What’s the point of having a screen in front of you all the time when the memories you carry are far more entertaining than any TV show? And Jack has a remarkable memory. He remembers more from his childhood than I do from mine and he has a considerably bigger gap! I don’t know if it’s the lack of artificial distractions that have cemented these memories in his brain but I’m glad that they are there and I’m happy he’s shared them with me.

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