Arie (with a name like that he had to be dutch) was the factory clown. The sort of guy with a weird and wonderful sense of humor. He could say something extremely funny (everyone would crack up laughing) and he would still manage to keep a straight face which would make the situation even more hilarious.
One night we travelled home together by train (he lived near us in Bayswater) and were lucky enough to get a seat at Flinders Street. The carriage was absolutely “chockers”, a lot of people had to stand…. like bloody sardines we were.
Suddenly, one of the young men collapsed on the floor of the train and by his spasmodic movements it was quite obvious that he was having an epileptic fit.
A couple of guys tried to make him as comfortable as possible by doing a few of the right things like taking off his tie and loosening the top buttons of his shirt. Then, after a couple of minutes the spasms subsided and a few people vacated their seats for him to seat down.
All this frantic activity lasted only a couple of minutes, but everyone in the compartment was quite shaken by the whole episode.
Then Arie turned to me with a straight, deadpan look on his face and said: “Some people will do anything to get a seat. All he had to do was ask me. I would have stood up for him if I’d known he was that desperate for a seat”.