His Friend Alan Hinder read some of the things that had happened to himself and Merv over the years and I thought it was proper that they should be put on his web pages.

What I am about to say is not Merv’s life story, but incidents shared between him and me.
In 1954 I bought a second hand camera (the old bellows type) and went on a cruise. When I came home and had the photos developed, they were awful. A girl at work told me she knew a chap who knew about cameras and gave me Merv’s name. She said that he was also a member of the Field Naturalists club who went out into the country each month. I decided to go on one of these outings to meet Merv. We became immediate friends and he showed me how to use my camera, because he had a similar type. We also joined the camera club and he was such a good teacher that I finished up winning prizes. He would often get first place and I second - sometimes vice versa. We had the oldest cameras in the club, whereas everyone else had modern cameras. Because we couldn't’ buy any accessories for our cameras, Merv made lenses out of old spectacles. Instead of measuring distance each time, he made a rectangle out of wire and attached a piece of flat metal to the exact length so that everything would be in focus.

During his time working for Dolph Symons he was hired out as projectionist to venues and I would go with him as his assistant. One time we had to show movies to members of the Little Theatre and that is how we became involved with them. Eventually the Little Theatre took up all our spare time and we dropped our membership with the Naturalists and Camera Club.
Merv did sound and I did lighting.

Merv became known as Mothy in the Little Theatre because once, when I was setting up lights for a play, I, in order to adjust the lights properly, asked Merv to walk into the light and then sent him to another light to do the same … and another … and another. Eventually, when I asked him to do it again, Merv yelled out to me, “What do you think I am? A bloody Moth?” From then on he was always known as Moth or Mothy.

After plays, some producers would give the helpers a silly little gift. Merv received big black spectacles with a big green nose and some long green fingernails. Shortly after that we were going to the airport to meet a friend and Merv decided he’d wear the spectacles, fingernails and a tall black hat. On the way out I had to call in at home for something. I parked in the driveway and Merv remained in the car while I went upstairs. Mum knew I was picking up this girl and she looked through the window to give her the once-over and saw this figure in the car. She said to me, “She isn’t very pretty. In fact she is the ugliest woman I’ve ever seen.”

For one play we had to set off fireworks on stage, so a few of us had to take a course, which lasted a few weeks, at the fire brigade. Just before the course ended they decided to show us how to use the hoses. Who was the first to go on the end of the hose, but Moth. When they turned on the water, Merv just left the ground and was sent flying around with no control of either himself or the hose. Water shot into the windows of the house next door and he washed every car in the street. Fortunately another member was heavier and finally managed to get control of the hose – but not until all this damage was done.

Merv flew on another occasion. We were asked to put on a play in the Gladstone Town Hall for one night during the Harbour Festival. Being inside all the time and having no access to a radio, we had no idea there was a cyclone brewing and the Mayor of Gladstone was on the air advising that nobody leave their homes. It was the poorest attendance we ever had at a production but the next day when we returned to take down the set, the hall was absolutely packed … with evacuees, so we had a full house to watch us pull down the set. During the loading of the truck, the Moth was on one end of a large canvas flat and went out the door first. The wind caught the flat and took Merv skywards. Fortunately there was a rather large chap at the other end so we didn't lose Merv to the winds.

Merv appeared in three Little Theatre productions. They were Seven Nuns at Las Vagas, Dimboola and Peter Pan. I produced Seven Nuns, which was a comedy with nuns and chorus girls and a priest. Merv was doing the sound and as the priest only had a couple of words to say, I asked Merv if he would stand in for the priest during rehearsal, because as yet no one had been cast in the role of priest. little did the Moth know that I had no intention of getting anyone else for the part, so just prior to performance time I told Merv HE was the priest. Before the end of Act 1, the priest would have to enter and say, “Good evening, Sisters, my car broke down”. Then there would be a blackout and the curtain would close quickly.

On the last night, Merv had friends in the audience, so prior to the show opening, I told the stage manager NOT to close the curtain and NOT to have a blackout, because I wanted to see how Moth would get out of the situation. Poor old Moth had to adlib and make up lines for a few minutes before I gave the stage manager a nod to blackout and close the curtain. Later the friends said they were surprised he had such a long part as they thought he didn’t have much at all to say.

As the nuns at the Range had supplied us with habits, we decided after the season finished, to put the play on at the Range Convent as a way of thanks. Before the curtain went up, most of the cast in the play were standing on the veranda near the door to the stage telling naughty jokes. One of the women had her husband with her and he had never met Merv. He could see this priest walking towards them and tried to stop the yarns. As Merv reached them he said, “Good evening, my children,” and gave them the blessing --by poking two fingers skywards. The chap who didn't’t know Merv almost had a heart attack at a priest acting in that manner.

Merv and I often went on holidays together. One time I collected him from work so we could drive straight off from there. When we arrived in Brisbane Merv found out he hadn't’t packed any shorts, so I lent him a pair of mine. We were walking down Queen Street when we had an argument. I straightaway told Moth that I wanted my shorts NOW and I was very addiment, but for some reason he wouldn’t oblige.

Another time we went to Canarvon Gorge. This was years before there were any facilities, only a little old hut put up by the Country Women. We slept on the floor in sleeping bags and during the night Merv woke me because he said it was raining and he was getting wet. I said, “I’m not getting wet.” He shone the torch to the roof. In the torchlight all we could see was the rear end of a possum – so that explained why he was getting wet.

After we left Canarvon Gorge we decided to start making our way to Emerald. On the way we saw a sign pointing down a dirt track, which said “WATER”. We thought it was a good opportunity to have a clean up and took the track. It zig zagged and twisted before we came onto a high water tank and windmill. As there were no people around, we stripped off and climbed the seven or eight foot ladder to get into the tank. When we reached the top of the ladder we saw that the main road was only about 100 yards away. That day happened to be Show Week in Emerald and there was a string of cars going along the road. I said, “Merv, we won’t go to the show in Emerald now, because I think we ARE the show.” As we figured no one would know us again, we went ahead and had our bath in the tank.

We went on a nine-day trip, in my Combi, to Tasmania. On the last night he said he wanted to get a carton of Apple Cider to take home. He saw a sign advertising it at a special price, so he bought a carton. That night in the Combi he opened the carton. “Made in bloody New South Wales,” he yelled. We had to go out again and get some real Tassie cider along with a carton of alcoholic cider.

The following Christmas he opened a couple of bottles of cider. His mother wouldn’t drink it because she said it was making her full. It was then he found he’d opened the alcoholic instead of the non-alcoholic. Not to be wasteful he drank it all himself. A picnic had been planned for that afternoon with the minister and his family. When I arrived to collect Merv for the outing, there he was, with a silly grin on his face and drunk as a skunk. We went on the picnic, with me warning him not to say a word. “Just smile all the time.” This he did, as only Merv could.

Not many people know that Merv and I went on a Honeymoon together. I had been engaged and had made all arrangements, including prepaying the honeymoon. The wedding was cancelled a couple of weeks before the set date, and not to waste my money, I invited Merv come along with me. We arrived at the Katoomba motel and have no idea what people thought when we walked into the honeymoon suite. As we walked in the door I said to him, “This is my bed. That’s yours over there.” The honeymoon night was spent watching T.V. playing cards and eating K.K.K. This is a toffee which Merv used to make whenever we went on holidays. It was full of coconut and peanuts. Sometime later I was diagnosed as being a diabetic. I never knew that there was an upside to having diabetes but from then on I had an excuse not to eat his vile K.K.K.
I have a featherless cockatoo named Harry. Merv never liked Harry and Harry finished up not liking Merv. A few friends and I were down at Merv’s one night playing Trivial Pursuit. Harry was with us. At suppertime I gave Harry a biscuit and the others followed suit and Harry tucked in. When Merv’s turn came, Harry took the biscuit off him, looked at it, and then threw it away – possibly thinking it might have been poisoned.

On the morning of the day Merv left us, we were talking and during the conversation I said, “Can anyone live without a pancreas?”

“I don’t think so,” he replied. Now old Moth doesn't’t like cricket, so he said, “Isn’t it a shame I didn't’t get sick earlier, because I might have got the pancreas of that famous cricketer who was recently killed. That would’ve been one in the duck house for Kelly,” he said.
(Because his mate Kelly loves cricket.)

This would have been our last real conversation. After that there were just little “yeses and nos”.

Our friendship lasted for fifty years and he was always there for me whenever I was ill or needed help in any way. When I was in hospital he would sit with me. When he went home that night, he would ring all my friends and say, “This is Florence Nightingale here,” and give them updates on my progress. After the operation I had to be given regular colonoscopies. On one occasion I couldn't’t manage to keep down the preparation and rang Merv for help at half past one in the morning. He came and drove me to the hospital, stopped with me till daylight, went home for breakfast and returned to sit with me until I was allowed home that night. This was done without one word of complaint. That is what I call true friendship.

As the final curtain came, it was Merv's wish that the song Wish Me Luck As You Wave Me Goodbye be played it was one of Merv's favourites it was done and instead of being sad people applauded and smiled as Merv got his final wish...He was nearly 75