Extract from 'Head over Heels - A story of tragedy, triumph and romance in the Australian Bush' (Pages 157 to 160)

One afternoon the phone rang. It was a guy called Shane Mahony, the presenter of ABC Radio's daily rural program, the Country Hour. He was ringing from Sydney and had heard about me while speaking to someone at the Rural Health Unit in Moree. It was coming up to Farm Safety Week and Shane was looking for someone to interview. He asked me if I'd do something for him over the phone for the Country Hour.

'I'd rather not do it over the phone, if you don't mind,' I said. 'Is there any chance someone could come up here and meet me?'

Don't ask me why I said that. I look back now and it's eerie. I'd done lots of radio interviews over the phone in the past. In fact, I'd never asked to do it face-to-face before that day. I'd just try to paint a picture as best I could over the phone and that was it. I never thought twice about it.

But there I was that winter afternoon saying no. It seems even more bizarre now looking back because it was the first time it was a truly rural program the others had been with city radio stations. I must have had rocks in my head. But perhaps it was fate. Like the day I decided to go the pub in Camooweal all those Sundays ago, the day I had my accident and completely changed the direction of my life forever. Some things just seem to be meant to happen.

'It's terribly difficult to describe over the phone how my hoist works, or how I get on or off my bike and the other things I do around the farm. I think it would be much more beneficial if someone could actually come and see it for themselves.'

'That's no trouble at all,' said Shane. 'I can totally understand that. Leave it with me and someone will get back in touch.'

We said goodbye and as I put down the phone I thought, 'That'll be the last I'll hear of him'.

But I was wrong. A few days later the phone rang and a young woman introduced herself. 'Hi, I'm Jenny Black from ABC Radio. Shane Mahony suggested I give you a call. I was wondering if I could come up and do an interview?' You could have bowled me over with a feather.

We started to chat. Pretty soon I discovered we'd both grown up on the land and there was an instant connection. We immediately shared a common language and interests. There was also this bubbly, smiley voice that came through the phone and grabbed me. Sparks flew down the phone line straight away.

I arranged for Jenny to come to Bardin the following week and gave her directions. I hung up the phone, seriously impressed, and went looking for Mum.

'Have you ever heard of Jenny Black?'

'She's with ABC Radio isn't she? We've been listening to Jenny for quite a few years. She does a program on the ABC in Tamworth every morning before the seven o'clock news. It's quite interesting. She often talks to people we know from the New England Northwest area.'

So the next morning, yours truly gave the local FM music station the flick and tuned into ABC Radio in Tamworth.

It was Jenny's voice that first captivated me. It bubbled out of the radio and made me want to listen. Like a good working dog, it headed me off and rounded me up and wouldn't let me escape. She sounded cheerful and fun and had this infectious giggle. I started painting a picture of what she looked like. For some reason I imagined she was quite tall and had dark hair and an olive complexion. As I listened through the week she got taller and taller and better and better-looking.

When the day of Jenny's visit finally arrived I was very excited. I decided to meet her at the front ramp, and I sat there in the cool, mid-afternoon sun not a cloud in the sky with my three dogs, Dusty, Missy, and Jaffa, on the back of the bike. I'd been waiting about ten minutes when I saw a swirl of dust slowly rising in the distance. A white station wagon turned off Croppa Creek Road and drove up the driveway, over our front ramp.

As the vehicle came closer I eagerly peered through the windscreen. Straightaway the long-anticipated dark, olive complexion disappeared; there was a reddish reflection through the glass.

Jenny pulled up and wound down the car window. 'Hello, you must be Sam.'

She looked completely the opposite of what I was expecting. I don't mean I was disappointed shocked is probably more like it because she was nothing like I'd imagined.

These are Jenny's recollections of that first time we saw each other: 'I remember thinking he was very handsome, with his suntanned face its colour deepened by the cold wind. He wore a large, thick faded green coat. It made him look big, cuddly and strong. Was it love at first sight? I don't think so - I took my job very seriously and I was there to do an interview.'

We introduced ourselves and chatted. One thing I noticed almost immediately was how close the driver's seat was to the steering wheel it was less than 30 centimentres away so I quickly put two and two together and figured out Jenny wasn't going to be especially tall either.

I followed her car up to the house. She parked it under the shade of a gnarled old pepper tree while I put my bike in the shed and jumped across into my chair. As Jenny got out of the car, I spun around and was amazed to see a red-haired, freckly-faced, sawn-off little runt. But she was the best-looking red-haired, freckly-faced, sawn-off little runt I'd ever laid eyes on. There was a spark right from the very start.

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