General News
22 August, 2025
BILLY CARTS, KITES and PAPER PLANES
Nearby in Bell Street was a fantastic hill — steep, bitumenised and challenging.
For my contemporaries (all primary school kids), it offered an irresistable challenge for any red-blooded youth.
Sunday was the day we took up the challenge. It was parallel to the local cemetery, and as there were no funerals on Sundays and little traffic, it was ideal for racing down the hill.
Everyone’s billy cart was of their own design, comprised of parts scavenged from every available place — the local tips and junkyards were the best source of materials.
A banana box made of wood was the main body of the cart. It was nailed to a solid board which had a metre at the front.
A hole was drilled into the end and a plank was bolted across. Rope was attached to both sides for steering, and old pram tyres (usually solid rubber) were attached to an axle front and back.
Decorations were individual and we all had our own names. Most of us sat upright and hung on for dear life.
After many Sundays of competition, one rider emerged as an almost unbeatable champion. Patrick was his name — he was tall, skinny and freckle-faced.
His secret was his balance, determination, and most of all his fearlessness. He particularly liked beating challengers from other suburbs.
Myself, like many others, left lots of skin on the road while skidding on the bitumen.
Our parents worked in poorly paid jobs and certainly couldn’t afford to lavish us with any flash paraphernalia. As a result we had to improvise.
Kites were a fascinating challenge. Attain some clag (a glue), stiff paper (usually wrapping), string and dowelling, and you were ready to go. You simply needed an open area of land and a reasonable breeze, and away you went.
Getting your kite airborne was a challenge, but once successful your self-satisfaction was delightful — a feeling of conquering the elements.
Harry Thomas had a terrifying kite experience. His father was a talented craftsman and made a box kite — a cumbersome thing requiring perseverance and a strong wind. Once aloft, it was hard to handle.
Harry strapped the string to his wrist and was lifted about 20 feet into the air... and was getting higher.
Fortunately the wind dropped and he landed heavily but safely.
Paper planes were a phenomenon. Everyone had their own design. If I had a successful model, it was a “oncer” (ie. couldn’t be repeated).
James, my cousin (Aunty Pat’s son) who was of limited talent, could make paper planes from any paper and they always flew successfully. The challenge was to get the plane to dart, loop and stay in the air for ages.
At one time a paper plane challenge was held at the Exhibition Building — a popular visiting place housing many fascinating displays — with the prize being a brand new Malvern Star bicycle.
Participants were issued with a single foolscap sheet and were to make a paper plane from it. From the balcony above the main forum, the challenge was to land the glider into a small container on the floor.
Hundreds of planes were scattered on the floor. Most didn’t get within cooee of the container.
Laurie Ryan’s plane did multiple loops before going straight into the aperture and won him the bicycle. Years later at a school reunion he was still bragging about his feat.
Laurie — a descendant of the Bailleau’s, one of Melbourne’s most prominent families — went on to become the ambassador for Malta.
Amazingly, the world record for a paper plane staying in the air was over 10 minutes.