Don’t Talk to the Dunnyman

One afternoon sitting on the back steps John said, “Come on let’s go t’ your place t’ play for a change.” “I don’t have nothin’ there, an’ you wouldn’t like it.” “I reckon I would ya know, I never seen your place but I reckon it would be OK.” Ceddy obviously was not sure but before he had a chance to say no, John was already up and walking in the direction that he had seen Ceddy appear from. On catching up he said, “I’m an Abo ya know.” His blond companion looked him up and down before answering, “Yep, I know. Me Mum told me. Only she used a much longer word, n’ said Abo was OK t’ say but Boong was not a good word. I don’t know why, ‘cause its not swearin’.” “I’m a Boong as well as an Abo.” “Does an Abo grow up to be a Boong, like a boy grows up to turn into a man?” “Naw its just wot white fellas call us.” “I get called Blondie or Snowy by some adults but I don’t like it much.” Ceddy looked down at the ground, picked up a stone between his toes and flicked it ahead of them. “Kondie said you was a real blondie,” he said pausing for a moment, “Wot’s it mean?” “It’s the colour of me hair, ‘n it’s like a nick name. But I already got a nick name ‘cause me real name is Richard, ‘n I think because of an uncle I’m called John, so it’s gotta be a nick name don’t cha reckon?” As they neared Ceddy’s place he again tried to talk John out of going there, “Er Polly might be cranky if I turn up with you.” “Wot’s she gonna be mad about? I won’t come in if she goes off, but I reckon if you are me mate we should be able to go to each other’s houses.” “Are you an’ me mates then?” “I dunno wot exactly makes a couple of blokes mates, but ya sorta just become mates don’t cha reckon?” “Is that the same if it is a white fella and a black fella, kin they be mates? Kondie bin telling Polly that you gonna git a bunch a trouble fer hanging ‘round wid me.”