Surrounded by a large contingent of media, I walked slowly towards the Federal Police who were waiting at the gate lounge at the end of the long walkway.
In the background I could hear the sound of an East-West Fokker Friendship aircraft as it taxied towards the terminal.
“At least I've made it to the ground,” I thought. “Are they really going to go through with this farce? Will I end up in gaol?
He was shaking like a leaf so I took him up to Pete's office and poured him a large Scotch.
He drank it straight down and asked for another, and it was then I noticed that fans had pulled out clumps of his hair.
“That's why they grow their hair long, I thought. “Girls keep tearing it out. "If they didn't have long hair, they'd all be bald by now.”
Ringo was still shaking, but another large Scotch calmed him down. “Rough town you've got here mate,” he said.
“Tell me about it mate, I'm from Liverpool,” I said.
Photo courtesy of State Library of South Australia
Arranmore first sailed to Australia in 1904 and as I write this in the
Semaphore Library I am only a few yards from the signal station that greeted
and farewelled her as she sailed into and out of Port Adelaide.
All that remains of the signal station is the time ball tower by which Arranmore would have rated its chronometer.
Erected in 1875, the tower was used to signal the time of 1pm each day, but with the advent of time wireless signals in 1932 the practice was discontinued.
For nearly three years I had coffee every morning at the Café Saltwater next to the time ball tower, unaware of the local connection with the ship with three names.
The time ball tower
Photo courtesy of State Library of South Australia