Stories

There’s a unique story behind every individual, and these are some of our residents’ personal accounts of life, before Respect and as residents.

Ron & Truda Walters

Ron & Truda Walters

97 & 86, Coroneagh Park

Truda: we lost our eldest boy, he had a brain tumour. He was 30, he had an accident in the car and hit his head on the roof. And that’s apparently what caused his brain tumour. Everything seemed fine for a couple of years after the accident. He wasn’t married and had no children of course. So there’s nothing of him to, you know, remember him by. It’s very sad, I suppose you don’t forget these things. We have three other sons. One is in the Army, another a flight engineer in the Airforce and one is a helicopter technician in the Navy.

Ron: We sent the three of them, said “Off you go!” They’ve seen the world, been around the world. And been to all sorts of places. They were pretty good kids really, didn’t cause any trouble – none whatsoever. They were good citizens. Most of their teenage years they were away from us in the service. I was in the Army for 32 years, an instructor in the infantry.

Truda: I don’t know much about Ron when he as a little fellow. He must’ve been a terror.

Ron: No, I was a good lad. I was one of seven.

Truda: Yeah, you were one of seven, I was one of seven.

Ron: We were both the youngest.

Truda: He used to get up to nonsense when he was home. I know things that you probably don’t know that I know.

Ron: Ah, yes?

Truda: His mother used to make honey mead. An alcoholic drink made out of honey. I’ve never had a taste of honey mead.

Ron: Honey mead’s very tasty.

Truda: So mother…his mother was doing the ironing and he was under the table and had one little drink of honey mead. Two or three drinks of honey mead…

Ron: I was 18 or 19

Truda: But he stood up from under the table and he collapsed! That’s what honey mead would do to him. But mother wasn’t very impressed.

Ron: She wasn’t impressed. She was anti-alcohol.

Truda: Very anti-alcohol. She used to make honey mead but…

Ron: I don’t think she realised it was alcohol!

Ron: We had a little farm growing up. It was a happy time. It was during the depression of course, but people on farms had plenty to eat. We used to share with our neighbours. You know, we kill a pig, we share it with the neighbours, we kill a cow, we share it with the neighbours. We used to share potatoes and things like that. The depression didn’t affect the country people at all. The town people suffered. But the country people didn’t. I took rabbit legs to school every day to eat and a sandwich. It didn’t cost anything.

Truda: I was a city child. Hard at times. And the cost…just towards the end of the depression. And of course we went through the war years. That was hard. Days were all the same, every day, you know? You did the same things. You couldn’t have chocolate for a start. That was always a nice surprise, that mum would be able to get hold of chocolate. That’s one thing I can remember. One day, father bought home this block of chocolate. Mother let me have a piece. We had a room in our house, it was a lounge room. It had a sofa and I could go lie down if I wanted to. And I remember I’m in there lying down and mother gave me this piece of chocolate. It was a block, you know, a little piece from a block of chocolate. I put it in my mouth and I bit on it and it went straight through my tooth – I had a bad tooth. That was the end of the chocolate. Oh, chocolate would have been lovely, but it hurt so much. I shouldn’t have eaten it. I was a little bit greedy, I suppose. I couldn’t waste it and I was wasting it. I’ll never forget that pain, which was shocking. And the school dentist wasn’t very nice. He seemed to be, you know, children of the day would have to go the school dentist – it didn’t cost anything. And he sort of seemed to be a big brute. And you can hear the other children, in his room, you could hear them out in the waiting room, “Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!” Screaming and crying. And he seemed to take such a long time to get a tooth out. It was dreadful. It really was, or he was, dreadful. I mean I don’t know about any other school dentist but this fellow, he was big, he was fat. He didn’t say nice things to anybody, just muttered.

Ron: Let me tell you a nicer story. I was in the army, I was transferred from Burnie to Launceston. I discovered that there was a young lady who was in the barracks who was interested in finding out who owned a little green care. And so one day I offered the young lady a ride to the post office to post the mail. She accepted the trip to the post office. “Do you mind if I drive you home?” “No, I’d love that.” So I drove her home, and that’s where it all began.

Truda: That’s where it all began. You didn’t stop at home though. We went out to Carrick.

Ron: We went to Carrick. That’s how it all began. My father told me, “When you find the girl of your dreams, makes sure you get her mother on-side.” That’s the important thing, to get the mother on-side. Truda’s mother was a widow, that’s how I manipulated her.

Truda: Terrible man.

Ron: We got on very nicely. Very friendly. So, I used to do little things to help her, didn’t I dear?

Truda: Oh, yes.

Ron: Take her for rides in the car. We used to go out a lot. We went on picnics and things like that, didn’t we? We’d forget to take the tea bags sometimes.

Truda: Poor mum. She would have loved a cup of tea.

Ron: Another strange thing – she used to like to go camping. I used to like to go camping. I had a tent and used to go camping. Mother always used to come with us. Hold on, why did she do that?

Truda: She didn’t trust you, see?

Ron: So, she loved to go camping. And once we got married, we still used to go camping. She never came anymore, I don’t know why.

Truda: Well, we went a couple of times after that.

Ron: We went a couple of times, didn’t we? With your mum.

Truda: He used to play tricks on her.

Ron: We used to play tricks on her, yeah. One day she went to post a letter and while she was out I put the hose on near the gate, spinning around there. And when she came back we were looking through the curtains and the poor old thing was running up and down the fence trying to get in.

Truda: See, that’s the sort of thing he used to do. Even when he as an adult he still did all those sorts of things, didn’t you?

Ron: Ah well, you’ve got to make your own fun.

Truda: Well if you don’t have fun what else is there to do?

Ron: I used to sit in the table next to Truda’s mum. I used to lift the table up very slowly, like this. Her eyes were like this.

Truda: No, that wasn’t very nice Ron. Things he used to do to her.

Ron: But she loved it, didn’t she?

Truda: Yeah, she did. I think he turned out to be the best son-in-law.

Ron: That’s why I did it. I took father’s advice. This advice would be a good start for the young ones today. Humour is a good part of life.

Truda: Good, clean humour.

Ron: Good, clean humour, yes.

Truda: Not causing any damage to anybody else.

Ron: Yeah, don’t hurt anybody.

Truda: Yeah, that’s the clean way to go. And some good advice to young people would be to be fair. You’ve got to be fair to everyone. Just the things you teach your children to do and how they relate to other people. Just be fair about it. Just remember you wouldn’t like some of those things done to you. Just be nice and pleasant. And if you’re going to have fun, have fun without hurting people. Without damaging them in any way or…the discipline…yeah, your discipline should be nice and fair. That’s all. People did that more and respected people more. I mean, these days…well, the respect, you know…well, all of a sudden everybody’s got to call everybody by their Christian names for a start. And that was…an older person, always, we always referred to the older people as Mr or Mrs or Miss because that’s what they were. And also, Mum and Dad and Aunts and Uncles. Nobody remembers all that or they don’t learn it. And which is the proper thing to say, they should be taught.

Ron: Manners maketh the man.

Truda: That’s true. That’s a good one.

Ron: Treat everybody with respect.

Truda: And refer to them with the title that they should have. I was asked this question a few years ago, my great niece asked me, what I thought about her calling her grandfather by his Christian name. I said I think he’s entitled to be, you know ‘Father’ or ‘Dad’ or whatever, not his Christian name. And she said “Do you?” and I said “Yes, you were brought up to call him that.” She sort of didn’t think much of it. She’s a modern girl and didn’t think much of it. That’s what he was entitled to be called.

Ron: Discipline is another thing. Discipline with the family is important, fair discipline. I don’t think discipline in the homes I show it used to be. Young people now, at least. I think parents are too lenient. And this computer age has changed things. Like you can get on the internet and see things that shouldn’t be seen. I think if you discipline a child, you should discipline him fairly. Like when I found Andrew fooling around on his push bike one day in the middle of the road. Next morning, he went to get his push bike to go to school – there’s no front wheel on it. Why? Well, I caught you didn’t I. So he didn’t do it again, did he? That’s the sort of discipline I’m talking about. You shouldn’t be hard, you should be positive – positive discipline. And also reward for good work too.

Truda: Well you shouldn’t be promising them anything either. You shouldn’t promise them things that you really can’t afford or do for them. “Oh, if you get 100% for your exam you’ll get such and such.” But I’ve heard so many people say that sort of thing to their children. Like, “If he wins this race, he’s going to get this.” Right, and if he falls over?

Truda: My dad was an alcoholic from the First World War And he was shot, received a piece in his jaw. He never spoke about any of that in front of his children. We feel now that perhaps that it had caused him a lot of pain and anguish, and he was probably thinking of certain things we didn’t know about. So he turned into an alcoholic, which wasn’t very pleasant. So I don’t speak about my father very much because things weren’t happy at home when he was like that. So I’ve sort of just dismissed him a bit. He had a bad liver, of course, from drinking his liquor. That’s what he died of. We called it cirrhosis of the liver, he was 54. I was only about probably 8 or 9 I suppose. And I was quite frightened of death. I think I didn’t realise what death was, because people didn’t speak about it. And when dad died I was very, very frightened. Frightened of the word ‘death’. Didn’t know what it meant really. I mean I knew people weren’t going to come back. I just was frightened of it. I didn’t know why, but that’s how it was with me, being the youngest in the family. I think mum was quite happy in a way because she didn’t have a good life with him. But that’s how it went. A lot of men were like that when they returned from the war – it was a terrible war – and they suffered and they saw things that they didn’t even want to think about. I think they just went on with life. They had to, there wasn’t anywhere else for them to go. They couldn’t go running around the corner to a support group or anything like that. They had nothing like that.

Ron: So alcohol was the way out.

Truda: It was terrible. I mean, men that go away in any war and any instance like that and they come home a different person.

Ron: I only went up to the Northern Territory in the army. The Japanese had landed there in New Guinea, they went to New Guinea instead, which was fortunate for us. If they landed in Australia, we were there in case they landed in Australia, but they didn’t come by.

Truda: They did come down, they bombed Darwin in the Second World War.

Ron: They bombed Darwin, yes. They didn’t land. We were going to go into the desert and thrash them. We kept a track with the help of the aborigines. They helped with where the waterholes were. Then we poured cyanide in the waterholes and poisoned the water. If the Japs would’ve come in, they would’ve been thirsty. But they didn’t come that way, we were lucky. We were 3 divisions up there – 15,000 in a division so quite a few people.

Truda: A lot of people.

Ron: We had to be there just in case. The Japanese got ambitious and…they shouldn’t have bombed Pearl Harbour. Yeah, so when the war ended I was offered a position as an instructor and I took it. Instructor in the infantry, training to get recruits.

Ron: Life was much simpler before the technology took over. I mean a telephone was on the wall and you answered it. We had a party line. The line went up the road to the post office. Each house had a phone and each house had a number of rings. Everybody, they’d listen in if they wanted to. Our number was 3, three rings and mother would answer the phone and everyone else up the street was like, “Mrs Walker was…” Everyone was listening in on the conversation. It was a good system. All those little things that made life interesting.

And another thing that use to happen in those days, people had horses. And people used to go into town with their horses, and sometimes they’d get drunk. And the horses would always take you home.

Truda: What about the time you put the horse…on somebody’s fence.

Ron: That was Mrs Brown. Mrs Brown used to sell tinware. She had a horse and cart and while she was in the house trying to sell tinware, we took the horse out and put the cart through the fence and put the horse back in again. When she came out the horse was on one side of the fence and the cart was on the other! Mrs Brown had very nasty language, things we’ve never heard before. All those funny things used to happen.

Truda: It didn’t harm anybody, apart from Mrs Brown.

Ron: It all made life worthwhile, didn’t it? And she had a bed underneath the cart with a dog. The dog was just sleeping in the hammock underneath the cart. The dog would be sleeping there. You’d probably sleep there too, you wouldn’t know.

Truda: Would’ve slept anywhere, Ron.

Ron: Life was pretty simple before technology took over. I used to set traps to catch rabbits. When I was about 11, I suppose, about 11 I was allowed to use a rifle. So, I learned to use a rifle at 11 years of age and shoot rabbits. Skin them and sell those skins for 2 & 6 a dozen. It was all money.

Truda: Didn’t you save up for a bike or something?

Ron: Suit. I was about 12. I didn’t have a long trousered suit, I only had short trousers. So, I wanted a suit with long trousers.

Truda: So you’d look grown up.

Ron: So I had to save my money. I suppose I had tickets on myself. The Rodd brothers had trousers, why couldn’t I have trousers? I was a man then. We used to go to Sunday school.

Truda: That’s why he wanted the suit. There must’ve been a little girl there that took his eye.

Ron: No, Sunday school was a bit of a problem. I didn’t like going to Sunday school much. It was 2 miles from our house to school and the church was another half mile further on. So on Sundays I used to go past the school to church and that used to upset me. One day I jacked up so I didn’t have to go anymore. It wasn’t taken very well, but I won the case.

Truda: Well I was sent but didn’t go, my brother refused to take me in the finish because I played up. I was the youngest in the family and my sister above me is 5 years older and my brother at that time was 7 years older. Well those two used to get on very well together. There was no room for me in that little clique. Eric had to take me to Sunday school and I played up – crying and screaming. I sat in the field on the say to Sunday school and he told mum, “I’m not taking her again, she plays up all the time.” So I didn’t have to go anymore. That happened at school too. When I first went to school I played up. He didn’t take me anymore, so mum had to take me the next day. She wasn’t very happy about that either because she had a bit of a walk without transport. We never had a car or anything like that. We didn’t have a bike. So we always had to walk up one hill, tow hills, before we got to school. That was in town, in Launceston. Mother wasn’t very impressed, and my sister used to…she’d get so mad and so ghastly.

Lesley Frith

Lesley Frith

91, Coroneagh Park

I made a bucket list when I was 80. I was listening to 7AD (the radio station I used to listen to) and they were talking about bucket lists and, you know, what people had. And I said, “Oh well, I’ll ring up 7AD and tell them mine,” which I did. And I spoke to them and they said, “Well we’ll have to see what we can do about that for you.” My bucket list was to go for a ride on a Harley-Davidson motorcycle! So anyway, this woman rang up and heard me on the radio and said, “My husband will take that lady for a ride on his Harley-Davidson motorbike,” which he did! He came out on a weekend and he took me all around the country side! It was fantastic, I loved it. He kept asking if I was ok or if he has going too fast and I said “No!” I was quite happy with the speed he was doing. And someone said, “Did you put your arms around his waist?” and I said “Of course I did!” What else? It was a real good time.

Once I was staying with my girlfriend at South Burnie. I was probably about 15 or 16 and we were going for a walk one night. The other girls must have come too, and they said
“Well, we don’t like that shopkeeper very much,” he wasn’t a very popular person. Anyway so we picked up a rock, didn’t we, and through it on his roof. He came out and gee was he mad! He was going to report us and everything else. We were really scared then. I wouldn’t have done it if I had been on my own. Anyway, he didn’t report us. We told dad when we got back home and he wasn’t very happy with us doing that of course. I think it was one of their ideas, it wouldn’t have been mine. I wouldn’t have dared to do it, I was too good I think. We went back and said sorry to the shopkeeper. I suppose he said, “Ah well, that’s kids for you.” That’s about the worst we would do then. What’s the thought now for the young people? Different story isn’t it. I hate the way the world is. Well, I mean there’s no peace. You’re scared all the time, it’s just frightening. They say go ahead and do what you normally do. Sometimes I wonder if that’s the right thing. I’ll tell you what, the young people with their kids – there’s no discipline now. And that is a great problem because kids need discipline. Even the teachers can’t give discipline to the children anymore. Otherwise the kids turn around and sue them – which they can do. Then the government is stupid enough to give them the money to go and live in a flat. I mean if we told our children that was wrong to do, they wouldn’t do it again.

When I was in primary school (probably 9 or 10 or something like that) we used to wrap up these parcels and put them on a great long string and go down to the main road. We’d put the parcel on the side of the road and we’d wait for the cars to come along. Now this was about dusk, so wasn’t real bright, no sunshine and we’d wait for the cars. Finally a car would stop and think, “Oh! Wonder what that is on the road?” By the time they pulled the car up and stopped, we pulled the parcel and there wasn’t any parcel laying there when they went to look. That was great fun! My kids tell me, “You were too good to do anything bad anyway,” they say to me. Well, it was nice to have done something exciting in your life isn’t it?

When my Uncle Dick died it was a very sad time. It was my mother’s sister’s husband. I was 7 or 8, I suppose, then. Uncle Dick and his wife went to Leith swimming that day. And probably Grandma and Grandpa, and Mother and Father. Anyway, they went off – it wasn’t a good day, sea was rough as Billy-o – and he wanted to go in swimming. And it was never safe for him to go in swimming that day. They weren’t married that long, he might have been 10 or 15 years into their marriage. It wasn’t that long. Anyway, he decided to go in swimming and he never came back. They never found a body, we never knew whether he was dead or not. And we often thought that he intended to do that – go in and disappear – because Aunty wasn’t a good wife. I think she used to play around because it wasn’t long afterwards that she was going out with this other bloke. So we often think that he meant to do that and not come back. Whether he was ever alive or whether he died, we’ll never know. And that was really sad because he was a lovely man, he really was. He was just a kind, considerate, helpful fellow. We just loved him. And he and my dad, of course, were very good friends. They’d married the sisters: dad married mum and Uncle Dick married her sister. Mum wanted to have a double wedding but Aunty wouldn’t have it. She wasn’t going to have anyone spoiling her wedding day. She wasn’t that sort of person. When we were kids and we used to visit my grandma every weekend, we’d go across the road to where they all lived, just over the road. We’d go to play with her kids and we were never allowed in the door, we had to play outside. She didn’t like us coming in the house. She was a funny woman.

I first met my husband Don at the dance. The paper mill where I worked used to run one every Thursday. He never used to get there ‘til after 10 o’clock at night because he had the shop and it didn’t shut ‘til 10. So he used to come down late. Anyway, he asked me for a dance. I hadn’t danced with him before. And they were good those dances, we used to look forward to them. And anyway, the theatre was next to his shop and we used to go to the pictures at the theatre and he was operating the shop next door. I would bus in and go to the pictures. The next night we were standing outside waiting for the bus to come and Don walks out and says, “Would you like me to take you home?” That was the second time that I’d been with him and that was it. Then when he did propose he proposed to me up in Fern Glade. We went for a drive at night. We were sitting in the car and he proposed to me, which I said yes!

I think people just too easily give up and go on to somebody else nowadays, you know? And don’t try to work it out properly and don’t spend enough time trying to work on things and come around and say “Alright now, off you go. Goodbye.” A lot of them do this and I don’t think that’s right. I mean, you make your vows in the first place. I believe that you need to work at it at times.

I always remember when I went off to my wedding and I left my parents’ friends, I stayed at their house before the wedding. And Mr Webster, he couldn’t go to the wedding because he was sick in bed. And as I went out, he wished me all the best and he said there’s one thing that I’ve really got to think about and do. He said, “You’ve got to give as well as take.” And that was the best advice I think I’ve ever had. I always remember him saying that to me.

I think my mother was a wonderful person. And up until then I guess she would have been the most influential person in my life. She was fantastic with us kids and with other people’s children. She just loved kids, no matter what, and they all loved her. She could tell just what was right from wrong. And, oh dear, I don’t know. We just loved her so much. She was the main person, I suppose, she shared affection a terrible lot. My father loved us but he never showed affection. Don was saying the same about his mother, his parents, they never showed affection. Would seem strange but mum was just the opposite. I don’t know whether it was dad being a teacher or what it was but I shouldn’t think that would make any difference. But mum just seemed a lot closer to us.

I was never in trouble, that’s what my kids say to me. You were just too good all the time, you never did anything wrong did you. But I don’t think that was right at all. We just knew right from wrong and we didn’t obviously do things that were bad. We were taught to act and carry on the right way. I don’t think that was bad.

Andre Dugand

Andre Dugand

89, Coroneagh Park

I was born in Kenya, East Africa in 1929, where I lived for forty years with my family. The political situation in Kenya wasn’t too good. And so me and my daughter decide to move altogether, so that’s what we did. Because moving around in Africa is…a bit of strife here, a bit of strife there, best if you get out of there. Came here and there’s strife too. But you know, not as bad as there. However, I had to think of my daughter. And not too many opportunities there for young white girls. So, make a move, that’s what we did. My daughter was 10 when we left. She just started her own business now, she’s done very well for herself. She’s got two diplomas and things like that. She’s an ornithologist – a doctor of birds. Then she got into agriculture, doing things in agriculture, land management, that sort of thing.

Our family growing up broke up when we were very small. Because I think my father’s side grew more French and my mother’s side more South African and German. And they didn’t get on too well. My siblings, Frank, Sally and John have all sadly passed on, many years ago. We weren’t a tightly knit family growing up. Not an awful lot there. And I’ve been a loner ever since. I’ve been a loner all my life. And there’s not an awful lot that keeps me happy for any length of time. You know it’s just come and go, come and go things. Basically, the best parts I can remember about Kenya is the weather and the animals. Then when you see the animals and knowing 30, 40 years ago they were everywhere. And now you can hardly see any. And you know, you know they’re going. That’s very distressing, very, very distressing. And I mean there’s a bunch of rhinos in a country and now there’s only 3 left. You know things like that really hurt. And you see the animals go.

My education was within a boarding school environment spending much of my time away from home. That was very regimented, which was rather tough and not enjoyable, though I did enjoy spelling and English, and still do. I enjoyed a freer existence here and still have a real soft spot for my homeland.

My six months military training commenced in 1952, during which an emergency was declared and I was then enlisted to fight in the Mau Mau War that continued for nearly four years. It was a tough time for us all, and as a peaceful person I still struggle with the main objective. War to me is the result of politicians that simply cannot communicate and generally throw young families in the firing line.

Working life began early for me and has been diverse. I spent much of my time as a diesel mechanic and this opened many doors for me along the way. I was able to adapt to many different challenges, including being part of a crew that built a suspension bridge over a tidal creek joining the mainland to an island trading post of Mombasa on the Kenyan coast. Again, another adventure saw me working with a transmission line contractor crew constructing from the ground up, power line towers that connected Kampala (Uganda) to Nairobi (Kenya) that took some 18 months to complete. As a diesel mechanic I worked on many different types of agricultural and railway line maintenance machines. My work was mainly reconditioning and maintaining them and I recall working alongside some wonderful chaps…fond memories indeed.

I had to leave Kenya because people were chopping each other up, burning houses down and fighting. All bloody political gunk. Someone just walks up and chops someone with a machete. Yeah, and bang, away they go. It didn’t happen every day, it was more often than not when it’s election time. They start killing each other because of difference and tribal things. It was probably a hundred different tribes in Kenya. I could have stayed on my own, but not with Alison there. Her mother and I got divorced when she was young. It was a love at first sight thing. I think that’s what happened to us. She disappeared, I don’t know where she is even. Alison was only a tottie, about 3 I think, 3 or 4. Alison contacted her mum when she got older, but they don’t get on at all. I told her if she wanted to take my daughter away from me she’d have to shoot me. She stuck by me and I stuck by her, and we’ve become good. She’s doing her own thing and she’s doing very well at it. But I’ve never said it’s wrong to have love at first sight. It does happen, because it happened to us. It kind of stopped…backbiting….get away, and that was it. We were pulling each other down all the time.

My daughter Alison is the light of my life, we have had many adventures over the years to include migrating to Australia in 1970. We landed in WA, and what a shock it was. 43 degrees on St Patrick’s Day, we were convinced Qantas had taken us to Ireland. Nevertheless I soon found myself in work, part-time initially and then parks and gardens with a local council. Following this was a trek up to the Pilbara where again my diesel mechanical background came in handy as I was employed for many years within the iron ore industry. This I enjoyed immensely until my retirement.

My advice to people would be never bite the hand that feeds you. I see that happening a lot, it’s very nasty. You’ve got a good job so hang on to what you’ve got. But I don’t know. In life, in many cases, it’s not what you know, it’s who you know that will get you going. Stand up for yourself. As I said I’m a loner, if somebody next door is doing something that doesn’t interest me I just do my own thing. Even like here now, I do my own thing. If there’s something in the garden I’d go, otherwise I stay in my room.

I am a cloud watcher, I love doing that. They never stat the same for more than about 2 seconds. They’re always on the move and I find that so soothing. You just forget about the rest of the world. They’re on the move all the time, I love doing it. So, my biggest pastime is just sitting there doing that. And what happens? I all that (nagging sound), people are very nasty. Unbeknown to themselves, a bit catty, and I don’t like that. And if you want to tell somebody to bugger off, you stay to them to bugger off. Shut up and go somewhere else, I’d rather talk to the clouds – they don’t argue with me either.

I now live in Tasmania, relocated to Coroneagh Park. My daughter Alison moved here in 2009 and has been sharing with me how wonderful life is here ever since. She helped me relocate, I now enjoy much aged care support here. That gives here peace of mind as she is very busy with life in general. She looks after me beautifully and we catch up each week. She has been the biggest part of my life, I am an extremely proud dad.

Bill Schack

Bill Schack

100, Alcheringa

I’ve got 5 sisters, they’re lovely – very, very lovely. I’m a lucky boy, very good family. My Mum and Dad were old pioneers. I’m nearly 101. I didn’t get my letter from the Queen yet, I don’t know why. Everyone was saying about it but I didn’t really mind that much. Dad broke his leg when I was younger. He broke it three times, twice when we were on the farm, which left a lot for me to do. And I wasn’t very old – I left school when I was 13 – and I wasn’t very strong at the time but I soon learnt. I had to do a lot of things, carrying wheat and that sort of things. Dad was a lovely man – his nature – just such a lovely man. He never bossed us kids. He was so kind. Didn’t drink of course and I’m not condemning anyone and anything they do.  Actually both mum and dad didn’t drink. I’ve only had one drink in my life!

My wife, Jean, we went to school together. I thought she was nice when we went to school. We’d gone all through school together but I started to really notice her when I was about 13. We sort of followed around with the desks, handing all the stuff under the seats, until we got caught! We lost a month’s play! The teacher was very annoyed at us! We used to write and pass along all sorts, a bit of work, a bit of fun. I think the teacher guessed what we were doing. Or he probably got hold of some of the notes and things I reckon, because he knew more than we thought he knew! School fun, hey!

I used to be a farmer, farming wheat and sheep. In our little town I was really a leader all the time. Trying to do things and go as a member to meetings and all those sort of things. I’ve had a busy life, running around the RSL. I found if you started ramming things down people’s necks, they’d leave you cold. You’ve got to be very careful in this world, nowadays. I think people now need to be less smart and more community minded.

I feel now I’m missing too much of life, you’ve got to get around and help people and do things. It’s more important than being stuck in the one spot like I am now.

Mavis James

Mavis James

90, Alcheringa

I was the youngest of 8 children and I was 2 years old when my Mum died. The story I was told, she had appendicitis and the doctor was supposedly drunk and Mum didn’t survive the trip to theatre. Nowadays things are so different aren’t they? But I’m going back 90 years. I don’t remember my Mum. I mean I’ve seen photos of her but I have no memories whatsoever and that’s sad. For that reason I’ve had three sons and I’ve just loved them because I remember what I missed. It was sad I didn’t have a daughter but now I’ve got 3 angels. They are just so kind, so good – I’m very blessed. But poor Dad. This little 2 year old, a 4 year old, a 6 year old… and there’s 8 kids and Mum gone. That would have been tough. I went to various aunties – I was farmed out all that time. A lot of that time – the sister that’s 2 years older than I – the two of us went to an aunty here or an aunty there or whatever. My eldest sister was 17 when Mum died and that poor girl took over the job of housekeeper. She must have been a gem of a person. Listening now it sounds tough but we didn’t know any different. That was just the way it was. And the aunties were kind and good, the cousins were all good and kind. By the time I started school my eldest sister married and went to live in Kerang and I went to live with them and went to school in Kerang. Until I got to grade 7 , then I came back home to Dad at Pental Island. I rode my bike from there to Fish Point – 7 miles each way – to go to school for that last year. I mean, the kids get on the bus to go next door now! Eventually Dad moved to Swan Hill and I moved in here and I worked at Bo Peep Salon selling baby clothes, baby prams – anything to do with babies. The clothes, the rugs, the blankets, a lot of prams and that sort of thing.

Sundays were the day people used to go out and so Dad used to bring my brother and I to Swan Hill. We’d go to the dance, or the pictures or whatever, when we were teenagers.  Dad used to go and play cards at some place and we’d go to the dance at the Memorial Hall. After the dance we’d all go back and meet up with Dad and we’d go back out home to the farm on Pental Island.

Eventually Dad announced he was getting married again.  He took us – my brother and I – in to meet her and she was nice. We were very lucky that he’d found someone really nice. So he got married again and by that stage John was married and I came and boarded in town and worked. I worked there a few years and I’d just gone 21 when I got married and went to live out on the farm. We had a good married life. I met Keith at a dance at the Memorial Hall here in Swan Hill and this nice young fellow asked me for a dance. When we were dancing I said, “Oh, thank you,” when we finished and he said “Oh, I’ve been watching you for quite a while.” So I said, “Well, what’s your name?” and he said “I’m Keith, what’s your name?” That was it from then on. I mean it took us years before we finally got married but he was a wonderful husband and I was very blessed. We had these 3 lovely sons and they are just gems. They’ve been so good since Keith died 16 years ago.

We owned the land across the river from the Pioneer Settlement on Pental Island. When the settlement was getting started they wanted to do something that involved the river bank on Pental Island and they had to come and get our permission to be able to do this. So I’ve been involved with the Pioneer Settlement in one way or another for all the years it’s been there!

I was always one that did things for myself rather than accept other people to do things for me. I always thought if you tried there was a way around whatever the problem was. I would be much happier helping somebody else, than expecting anybody to do anything for me. People have got to get back to being more generous to others, more kindness instead of the nastiness. In some ways the world is now better. A lot better than it was when I was little, as far as I can see. There is less poverty and things of that sort because there are groups now that see that there is this type of trouble and groups that take over and try and help them. The awful weapons they’ve got now are just making things too dangerous. I’ve always been a very peaceful person and if there’s a problem, I’ve always tried to go the right way about trying to fix it. I think that I’ve been through the best years.

I think that technology has changed things more in my life than the other things. My son, give him two pieces of string and he’d make them talk to you – he’s just a tech whizz. He works for Australia Broadcasting and they send him wherever the locals can’t fix something. Amongst my friends, they sort of have no idea about these things. I think that he has just taught me so much, like the use of iPads and things of that sort. I’ve got a niece in America I email and I do any of the quiz sessions that are on. I’m on Facebook. Not that I use it often but I look at it every morning to see who is sending me messages and I answer them if they ask me something. I have 240 photos on my old iPad. I went through my photo albums and I photographed every photo, looking straight down on them! And anything that happens I take another photo and it’s fun!

Charlie Bartleson

Charlie Bartleson

Cohuna Village

I had a brother but he died when I was about 7, from leukaemia. They couldn’t do much for him you know? They knew 2 or 3 months before he died. He was only 5. We went to a little farm after that, I was the only one left. My parents didn’t take it very well, they broke up a few years after. I was upset for a while but you just had to get used to it. I was about 10 or 12. Then I went to live my auntie for about 6 or 8 months while I was working. I worked on farms a bit and at gold mining towns. I think I was sent off to other relatives so they could get back on their feet and everything after the war. I saw them once a year but anyway I was up the bush and working on farms.

We had some fun though, after Mum and Dad split up, because it was around the war, and with my uncle being away. We used to run in and knock on houses and run off down the road. We did it to one bloke once too often and he come out and caught us! He didn’t do anything, he just gave us something to eat! We were quite happy. He just laughed and he said, “I caught ya!” It was probably the best thing he could have done because we didn’t bother going back and knocking on his door after that. Because we thought well that’s it, it’s a waste of time going back again, the fun was gone out of it. We used to go into orchards and pinch apples. And eggs the same thing, you know. I wouldn’t eat eggs at home but I’d go and pinch eggs in someone’s chook yard and then go out in the bush and cook them. I didn’t like them at home – same with green apples – wouldn’t eat them at home, but I’d eat them if I pinched them. They tasted better when they were outside!

Believe it or not we’d ride 7 mile out in the bush (and 7 mile back) and we’d grab a couple of bunches of gum leaves because we’d get a sixpence for them! We rode all that way just to get it! Old people loved the smell of gum leaves. They’d give you sixpence or whatever they reckon for them. We knew who to take them to. We used to find them at an old school. We’d go out there on a Sunday and we’d get the gum leaves off the trees and take them back. They were nice ones, you know? We had to make a couple of bob somewhere! With a sixpence you could buy a bit of stuff with that. We used to buy the black licorice straps quite a bit, they were cheap! About a penny a strap, or something like that. We had to go a long way to get it! Didn’t worry us. Ian Saunders was a mate of mine back then. He started off a jockey and then he was a trainer at the race course.  And anyway the blokes there, they’d be watching us and they’d be laughing as we jumped over to get in to the races. The bloke I was with, his old man was a trainer. I don’t even know what we wanted to go into the races for, we just wanted to go in and watch them and to say we just got in there for nothing! Until we got caught. Then we snuck up somewhere else and we’d be over the fence somewhere else. They gave up in the finish and just laughed and let us go. Get out and enjoy yourself whenever you can, that’s about all you can do. You got your bum kicked if you didn’t do the right thing – which we did quite often. Well, it ought to depend who caught you but most of them were pretty good.

I used to work to do some work down at Silver Glow. They used to make things for hospitals, dairies – stainless steel stuff – you know? A few accidents happened.  One day one of the trollies ran over this bloke’s hand. He was the one who went along and checked all the lines, you know, where the trains go through. There were 30 of us working there at the time. They were motorised trollies and he didn’t ring up and he didn’t check – he had a bad habit of that. Anyway, so he got smashed up and nearly lost his hand, it was almost off. I think they actually saved the hand. It didn’t go off completely, but it wasn’t much good, didn’t work properly after that. Another time we were going down the track and one of the blokes – I actually think he was still drunk – and he fell off the trolley when we were going around one of the corners, he just bounced back up!

Daphne Garner

Daphne Garner

91, Cohuna Village

I was one of 13 children because Dad had 6 children with his first wife. Amy died and he was left rearing these children, with his mother’s help. Then he met Mum. Mum was from England and they just adored each other (I was so glad that I had a husband like that – who thought I was marvellous, even when I wasn’t). When Dad married Mum, they had 7 daughters. There was Dorothy (Dorothy died when she was 10 months old), Mary, Margret, Cath, Patricia, me and Rosemary. They don’t know why Dorothy died. Mum said she was always such a quiet baby, never moved and one day she just collapsed. They think maybe she had a heart attack. But they didn’t really know those days. Pat died when she was 5, she had cancer of the stomach (I was 7). In those days they used to have dances and fancy dress balls to raise money for town improvements. About 6 months before Pat got sick she was entered into this baby show. You could enter children up to the age of 5 – it was to raise money – Pat was awarded champion baby. It wasn’t long after that she was just lying in bed one night and projectile vomited. Mum said it was just shocking to see. She took Pat in to see Dr Stuart in the town and he said there was no hope, he knew what it was. It was a very rare thing. Pat hadn’t complained of pain and Mum said the thing she couldn’t get out of her mind was that 6 months before that she had been awarded the champion baby. She was in hospital for about 6 or 7 weeks before she died. I remember it was very hard for us to go over to Echuca hospital. In those days there were no trees on either side of the road and I think cars only travelled flat out at about 30 mile an hour. A neighbour who was a mechanic, he had made a sort of a car and a friend drove all of us children over to see Mum and Pat. I remember the sun was burning down and when we got to Echuca we found out the Duke and the Duchess of Gloucester were coming to Echuca that day. She was pretty. As soon as we arrived, someone grabbed us and said “Come on over to the station because the Duke and Duchess are arriving!” They were standing on the front of the train, hanging onto a rail at the front of the train – they didn’t get off. Everybody waved their flags and things and as kids we thought that was just the most wonderful thing to see. Royalty right up close.

When Pat died, Dad was home with us. Somebody rang one of the neighbours, because we didn’t have the phone on. They said that Patty had passed away. I was sitting and watching Dad. He was digging something, he had a lovely big strawberry patch. The neighbour came over to tell Dad and he turned and said, “Patty’s gone”. I remember the tears running down his face and as a child you never thought that fathers would cry. He continued to dig around these strawberries and this neighbour, he just took Dad inside to talk. In those days you made a cup of tea for everything. If you broke a leg, you have a cup of tea until the doctor came, that sort of thing.  Dad knew there was no hope for her, but Dad just loved us all so much, loved his kids.

My husband and I were involved in just about every organisation you could think of. There was no ambulance. One day when my mother had to go to Bendigo the only way she could get there was with the school bus driver, Frank Stanton. Jack, my husband, said to me “This is not good enough. There are all these people that need help but can’t get it!” So we started to raise money to buy an ambulance. We’re very proud to think that because of are two stations, two cars, two ambulance men and a house for the ambulance officers. We did all that.

We decided when we were working that we would like to save up and go to the outback for holidays, so we did! We roughed it because we believed if you were going to do something like that you did. We had a lovely time, year after year. We had a lilo each and when the bus pulled up it was a case of grabbing your lilo and pumping it up. But many times we were without water. The first time we went I got caught out because there would be no water at the next place. Only just enough to drink. And you get pretty messy when it’s so hot. There was an elderly man there – he was 85 I think – and he used to travel each year. He said he did it after his wife died. I said to him, “I’m going to miss having something just to wipe my face”, and he said, “Oh, next place you go to see if you can buy a hot water bottle.” I would then fill that up if we were somewhere where there was a bit of a stream or tap. We were limited as to what we could each carry and you couldn’t have a shower or a wash or anything like that –they told us that before we went.

Jack could put our tent up in 3 minutes! So he ended up putting everybody’s tent up. One lady said to me, “Oh Daphne you always wake up so bright in the mornings, how does that happen?” and I said, “Oh, well one of the reasons is I have a lovely cup of tea”, and she said, “But the cook doesn’t come on until later?” and I said, “Well Jack has asked and they allowed him to work the pump up thing, and he could boil the water and make me a cup of tea”. So one of them said, “Do you think he would make me a cup tea when he does yours?” I said “Yes, of course he will”.  So you used to see, I think there were 20 something cups or mugs spread out and ‘that’s mine Jack, that’s mine, and I have a bit of milk in mine’, you know, and he’d knock on all the tents with a cup of tea for each one.

There was a young lass from South Africa who came back and stayed with us – we kept good friends with a lot that came through.  I remember getting a letter once from her that said, “I’m sorry this letter got torn, I was away and when I got back a lion had been through my tent!” And it was ripped. That was when there was trouble in South Africa. One time she just didn’t write back, so we sort of lost track with her.

The worst thing on these trips were the young fellas who would think, “Oh this is going to be great, there will be a lot of girls out there. And I’ll share their tent and all of that.” Jack and I had been several times at this stage and we got to know the driver and the cook pretty well. We stopped somewhere for morning tea and Jack and I sat down on a log and having a tea and a lass very shyly came over and said, “Excuse me, could I sit here with you?” I said “Yes, by all means”. Turns out she was from overseas and after that she sort of came with us all the time. Anyway, we were at Coober Pedy and they used to say it wasn’t where women should go on their own. This man, about 40, had come on this trip and kept siding up to the girls, so Jack would always make sure he was in between him and the girls. Anyway, they wanted to go to this dance, and one of them said, “What are you doing tonight Daphne?” I said I was going to sit by the camp fire with Ray, then I’ll go to bed. I asked, “Why?” And they said, “What’s Jack going to do?” I said, “Well I suppose he’s going to do the same thing”. So the four of these girls said we wanted to go to the dance but they told us, “Girls don’t go on your own, do you think Jack could come with us?” I said, “I don’t know, you’ll have to ask him”, and Jack said, “Yes I’ll go, but I won’t dance, but I’ll be there with you”. He came back after, having a laugh saying, he would be standing there and the girls would get up and dance together and when they’d finish, they’d go back all around Jack. The other fellows thought they wouldn’t go near him because he was a big beefy bloke! Anyway, another night we all had to sleep together on the ground on this concrete in the shelter. And of course you’re lying with your lilos close together and if somebody snores that’s tough luck! This particular night the girls had gone out and Jack hadn’t gone, he stayed with me. The girls had gone and said, “We’ll be alright, there’s four of us together”. Anyway, I woke up – I’m a light sleeper – and I could hear this arguing outside. We had a man who had got on the bus in Melbourne and he’d said he was a medical man and somebody said, “Oh he must be intelligent if he’s a medical man”. And I said, “Well he’s not a doctor and he hasn’t got the brains to be anything else. He’s got to be a porter, you know, who either sweeps the floor or does something like that”. Turns out he was mad. He just wanted to get with these girls all the time and they weren’t bothered with him! So anyway, I could hear this sobbing outside and so I reached over and I said to Jack, “You’d best go out and see what’s wrong there”. So he climbed out of bed. This man wouldn’t let the girls into the shelter until one of them went off with him. Jack went out and next thing these girls came and they were crying. I said to one of them, “Look, my bed’s warm. Hop in here, you can have a sleep on the side of the lilo”. I’ll never forget it. People came and went and they usually grizzled early on in the piece, “I never thought it would be like this”, and then later they realised that’s what it was like.

Jack had Parkinson’s, his mind was clear until he said his last words. Jack was paralysed, he had a lot of pain but like I said his mind was clear and talked right until the end. The last thing he said to me was, “I love you”. Our girls were with us, all three girls and their husbands. He loved them all and they loved Jack. He never left the house or kissed me goodnight without saying “I love you”, and I’d say, “I love you, Jack”. It was our thing. We were happy, he was a wonderful man.

In one of the prayers I think it says, “To thine own self be true, then you cannot be false to anyone”. Do that and be honest always. It used to annoy Dad when people owed him money, they would be out with a brand new horse and hadn’t paid what they owed him. I think Dad’s advice is good – if you haven’t got the money, you don’t buy it! But I think the first most important thing is to be honest. Because then you are honest with your children and they learn to be honest and you’re not going to be doing something to hurt someone else. And to be respectful is to tell the truth and to respect other people’s ideas. Not everybody has the same thoughts and same ideas. You don’t have to agree but you can respect them and listen to what they have to say and still respect their ideas. And hopefully they respect yours. I think people today can be a bit inclined to be selfish. They think, it’s not my concern if you see someone sitting on the roadside, no one around and it’s a hot day. You can think, “Well, I suppose he needs a drink of water but it’s not my worry.” That’s being silly! But I think it’s just a different world, it’s changed. But you have to go with it because where else would you be?

The good thing about the world these days is people are more learned. You know, they have the facilities to learn. I mean we have those brilliant doctors. Like those doctors that operated on those conjoined twins in Melbourne the other day. There are some brilliant people in the medical world. It’s also good as far as travel goes now because in my day to travel you had to go on a ship and sometimes they sunk. That was terrible – and I’m going way, way back – but it’s changed. Things have changed in my 91 years. I don’t regret that we were a big family, a lot of people had big families. I don’t regret that because we’ve got a big family and when something is on, we all gather together still.  And I’m still in touch with people, even though they’ve had to move away to make a living. I don’t regret that we were poor. When I say poor, we just didn’t have money. We had plenty of food and love, we were warm and we had log fires. Always clean and tidy and scrubbed up, you know? You just passed the clothes on, they just kept going down, and being passed on with alterations. Mum always said she felt people were more demanding now, you know, they’re expecting more, for less work. The shops are full of this and that, it’s just a different world. A much different world.

Alexia Burns OAM

Alexia Burns OAM

95, Eliza Purton

Alexia: I was born and grew up in Lefroy (near Pipers River) in a family of 4 girls and 2 boys. When I was little, maybe about 5 years old, my father had bought six of these red, round, hard lollies and I stole a lolly. Mum had said, “We have six lollies, so we’ll break them up and share them”. I decided to pinch a lolly, it was up in a high cupboard. I was saying “I didn’t do it mummy, I didn’t do it”. My punishment was she wouldn’t share the other lollies with me, but she did in the end. It was a wonderful lesson and I wouldn’t steal anything after that!

I can remember reading every book that my mother ever had in her bookcase. She was prolific reader and so was I. She always said to me, “I don’t mind you reading the books.” Some of the books I didn’t even understand what they were about! I probably read too early. When I was older our house was broken into and all the books were stolen.

I was a very clever mathematician. When I was at school I can remember doing algebra even though we hadn’t had any lessons on it. I could work it out. My father was very clever like that too. He came out from Scotland and had minimal schooling.

I started nursing at around 14 or 15, it was during the polio epidemic as most of the schools had closed. I went nursing as a Royal Blue Girl (Aide) in the Infectious Diseases Hospital in Launceston until the polio ward was closed and all of the children were moved to St Giles. After the polio epidemic was over, I worked at a rest home in Launceston then went to Levenbank in Ulverstone to work. In our spare time we used to go swimming in the Leven River. I left Ulverstone to get experience at a private Maternity Hospital in Hobart until I was old enough to start my training. My older sister and I also worked at the Psychiatric Hospital in New Norfolk until I could do general training at the Launceston General Hospital. After I had gained my certificate my sister and I went on to Queensland to do midwifery training at the Brisbane Women’s Hospital. I loved it there, I remember one Christmas there were 30+ babies born! I stayed in Queensland working in the Mt Isa and Camooweal areas doing district nursing in those communities. I failed my nursing exams twice. We couldn’t afford text books and they weren’t readily available. I just had to keep on trying until I passed!

When I came back to Tasmania I was working in the labour ward of the QV in Launceston and was on duty when my youngest brother was born! I eventually moved to Waratah to work as the district nurse, which I did for over 30 years. I met my husband there, we had our children and lived in the Nursing Centre. There was a surgery and people would be coming and going at all hours of the day and night. I was on call 24 hours a day.

I pulled a lolly from my grandson’s throat when he was about 4 as he was choking.  I remember he didn’t speak to me for three days. His throat bled but all he wanted was this lolly back!

I recall stitching a Great Dane’s head up one day. I was petrified, shaking! The owner bought it to me in the hospital because he couldn’t get him to the vet. The dog had run through the bushes when they were cutting tracks and had been hit by a machete, it split his head. The dog didn’t mind and was licking my hand!

Another time I helped a local farmer deliver a calf. I told him to bring the feet down if you please, tie the feet together and put it behind a very, very quiet horse, and pull the calf out.  The horse took off across the paddock, calf bouncing behind!  The poor thing, both the cow and calf lived. The farmer sent word for me a fortnight later, he wanted to see me. I was very worried but all he did was thank me very much and very sincerely. At some stage I must have head Dad telling Mum how to deliver a calf, I didn’t even know you had to pull the feet down, so I mean I must have overheard them saying that.

Helen (daughter): Remember when you delivered the babies? The babies outside the door at Waratah?

Alexia: It was raining and she was still in the car.

Helen (daughter): I can remember the baby being wrapped up and being bought inside to keep warm near the fire.  We were in the middle of making cakes for the school fair the next day.

Alexia: Another night we were going through the Hellyer Gorge in the ambulance and this woman’s husband said, “I want to be there when the baby is born”. He was coming in the car behind, following us. He had to go back because he’d forgotten to turn his lights off. Of course the baby was born by the time he got there. He said, “I told you!” I said, “Well, you can’t wait!” He was only a few yards, but he was too late to see the baby being born. Babies don’t wait.

In 1977 I received an Order of Australia Medal for services to nursing. I retired soon after that but continued to live in Waratah for another 20 or so years. There were wonderful things in nursing, but I loved the babies and children. Babies being born was wonderful, just pure life.

Doreen Reardon

Doreen Reardon

83, Eliza Purton

I was a child over in England during the war and no one has learnt a lesson. People need to learn to get on with each other and put their differences behind them and try and work together – I mean countries, the heads of countries – and accept everybody for who they are. Whether you’re black, blue, red, white – and your religion, if you’ve got a religion. They’ve learnt absolutely nothing from the war. But of course a lot of people make money from war, a lot of people.

I grew up in the war and we didn’t have much of an education. Mum had four children at home and Dad wasn’t there.  He was away doing whatever he was doing in the war and we were having an air raid, we could hear the planes coming. At our house over in England we had bedrooms upstairs, living rooms down stairs and the air raid shelter was outside. On this particular raid we could hear them coming and so we had to go down to the air raid shelter. So we gathered up our blanket and pillow (we always had a pillow slip with our clothes in it) and we had to walk down the stairs. Mum had the baby – my younger sister was a baby – and ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘one’s missing. Don’t tell me he’s in the kitchen getting something’. So she looked – no he wasn’t there. She looked in the living room, ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘don’t tell me that he’s in the bathroom’. So she said to my eldest sister, ‘You take the baby and you take Alec’s things and you two go to the air raid shelter’. It wasn’t that far away from the house, just a few metres more or less. So off we go and we could hear the planes coming and the guns going off. We were shouting, ‘Mum! Mum!’ you know, like you do as kids, and next minute my brother comes flying through the doorway and she jumps in behind him and she was saying, ‘If you do that again!’ This was the only time I ever saw my mother lose it. We had the German planes over, the guns all going off and I can remember her shouting to him, ‘One of these days if Hitler don’t kill you, I will kill you myself!’ That has stuck in my mind ever since. The poor little thing, he’d got out of bed, put his boots on and his coat on, climbed under the bed, pulled his blanket over him and went to sleep! He thought he was actually in the air raid shelter! Because this was going on, we could have raids at any time – midnight, two, three o’clock in the morning they were coming over. And we were very young and he thought he was actually in the air raid shelter. He was 20 months older than me, I was about 8, so he must have been about 10. It wasn’t funny at the time but we tormented him for years. He died a few years back, but we still tormented him.

Another time we were running towards the air raid shelter again and they dropped a bomb and we got the blast and it blew me right down the air raid shelter. That was the worst. I hit the bottom, I don’t remember much, only all these kids on top of me. I was about eight or nine, I was only young. It was scary. I was five when it started and it went for five and a half years.

We were told we were at war with the Germans and for the life of me I had no idea who the Germans were. I mean, when you are a child you don’t know. We were told they were bad people. Dad was away and everybody else – the man next door, he was away, a chap two doors down from us, he was away, he was in the army. Another neighbour, he was in the air force. So the men were away all the time, it was just more or less the women with the children. I didn’t see Dad much over the five and a half years but I was lucky because some people, one of my friends, her father was a prisoner of war with the Japanese and for a year I don’t think they even knew if he was alive even.

If we were to visit our grandmother – that was Dad’s mother – she’d say, ‘Be careful about the buildings.’ They were all boarded up because they were bombed, the buildings. Wherever you went that’s all you saw. When the war was all over, I was about twelve, we were allowed to go to the beach – after they cleaned all the beach up – because they’d put landmines there. They had a big fun park there. We used to go there a couple of times a year.

Dad was a bit of a history buff and that’s where I get it from. He used to take us through old buildings and tell us stories and try to keep us active. We had a happy childhood, apart from those years during the war, but that wasn’t our parents fault. On the whole, compared to some children, we had quite a happy one.

We used to have a lovely get together with Mum’s family. Mum’s sisters and my cousins always came to our house and had a good time. Dad played the piano and we used to have sing-alongs and he was a fantastic dancer. I was one of five children, four girls, one boy, and Dad taught us all to dance – and we could all dance! Ballroom dancing, I don’t mean like this today.

Mum was a very sensible woman, she used to say, ‘Spend a little, save a little’. She always used to come out with little things like that and she would always give. If she got some money for her birthday or something, we knew she would spend some on herself, but she always used to spend it on us. I think she was a great influence on the house. She never smoked, didn’t drink. She used to say any woman that drank – even the men – that was a cup of milk they deprived of the children. We used to know other families and the mother used to smoke and drink and she’d say ‘No, she’s depriving the children’. Dad didn’t smoke. I say didn’t smoke, he did used to roll his cigarettes, but so thin there was hardly anything in it and I think if he had two or three a day that was it. As for drink, if he had one at Christmas time he’d be merry. One glass would make him merry, two glasses he’d be asleep!

Dad died when he was fifty-five. When he was in India, back in the army, he got malaria fever. Malaria never leaves you, it’s always there. In those days you could get a re-occurrence of it and every time you get a re-occurrence it weakens your heart. So it weakened his heart and he died. That’s what the doctors said that held the post-mortem, because he was only 55. We’d all been out in the evening and we’d gone our separate ways home and next I knew there was knocking at the door and my brother was there and he said, ‘You need to get to the hospital, Dad’s collapsed!’ And he lived a week. I was only twenty-three or twenty-four, something like that, and we’d only been in Australia six years.

I’ve been through so much and so death doesn’t worry me. When you’ve been through so much, it’s going to come to us all, and I think it depends too how you lived your life. I believe in God, we go to church, we haven’t been for a few weeks because of Don’s hip.  He had to give up driving and in the winter it’s a bit cold to go but we do belong to a church. I’ve always had my faith, I was baptised at six weeks. I was bought up in the Church of England when we were in England and Don was the same.

I’m married, my husband Don is in the room next door. We’ve been married 64 years, give and take. He’s from Tasmania, we met in Hobart. Our family went to Austin’s Ferry and Dad had a house built. I was eighteen and I used to travel on the train to Hobart because I worked in Hobart. Don worked on the railways and he saw me and he thought (this is the story he tells everyone) he says, ‘I’m going to have that girl.’ I used to talk to different people working on the railways and unbeknown to him (and I used to travel quite a bit with this one) and he thought, hmm, get rid of him! But unbeknown to him it was my brother! Because he worked in the railways but not in the same part as Don! So he thought I was taken with another man but it was my brother! Because my brother knew these other ones that worked there, of course I got to know them too through him but Don didn’t know this. But anyway that’s how we met. He just used to say hello to me – just hello – and then one day we met in the street and he said, ‘Hello,’ and he walked me back to the railway station and he asked me out and he took me to the pictures! We were together about two years before we married. We were going out for eight or nine months and then we got engaged and I think we were engaged for about a year or something and then we got married.

The secret to a good marriage is about give and take. And never hold a grudge. I know some people, they like to think they know everything, but you don’t. I think you learn from each other and you grow from each other. Yes, so we’ve been married for 64 years. These days you’re lucky to be married 6 years! Some people not even that. The young ones today they want everything yesterday. Whereas in our time we had to save up and not get into debt, but now they get a flashy car. I really don’t think a lot of parents teach their children how to…. My mother’s advice to us was you spend a little, you save a little and you will never be in debt. She said, when you get married always make sure that your rent or mortgage, whatever you’ve got, is paid for and make sure that you’ve got plenty of coverage for medical so that if you’re sick, or your children are sick you can always take them to the doctor. That was her advice to me and I carried it on.

I was having a bath one day and felt a lump… it was so tiny, like a pimple under the skin. The next night it was still there and within a week it had grown to about five cent piece. I thought – oh, that’s funny. So I went to my doctor and I told her, and she examined both my breasts and she said I’d like you to have a mammogram. I was having mammograms every two years on the bus. So they did the mammogram at the hospital and I was meant to see the doctor a week later, but before that week was up the hospital phoned me – the doctor himself. He said, ‘Can you come in so we can take a deeper one?’ I said, ‘Yeah ok,’ and thought nothing of it. I went through and he said, ‘Don’t worry sometimes we do this,’ and when I went back to the doctor she said I had a lump in both breasts. So she made an appointment to see the cancer specialist and from the time I went to her first time, to the time I got in, I think it was about two and a half weeks. So I had to go back and have both breasts removed.

Five days before last Christmas I was at home and I’d got up, we’d had breakfast, my husband was in the kitchen and I’d gone to make the bed. All of a sudden I got this dreadful pain in my chest and down my arm, then it went up to my neck and I thought, oh, I must go and sit down. I was trying to call my husband’s name, ‘Don!’, and he heard me and he came racing from the kitchen into the lounge room and he said, ‘What are you making that noise for?’ I thought I was calling ‘Don,’ but I was making a funny noise. He took one look and he said, ‘I’m calling an ambulance’. I was taken to the Latrobe hospital. Then they sent me to Launceston. Then they sent me through by air ambulance to Hobart. I had a by-pass there. I collapsed five days before Christmas and I had the operation between Christmas Day and New Year’s Day. I can’t remember a lot about it but sometime between then. That’s why I’m here now.

They said I would never be able to go home and work or do anything and my husband, he’s losing his memory. He couldn’t look after me and I couldn’t look after him. I was so sick when I moved in, I mean when you can’t even get into bed you don’t care. Don came here before I came because I was in hospital until February. I don’t think I could go ever back to living at home. I do miss cooking and I miss not going into the supermarket and saying, ‘What are we going to have? Will we have lamb chops, or lamb, beef, or something’? They hold cooking here but it’s cakes and scones and thing like that, but I’d love to cook a real meal up. Do you know what I’d love to cook? A big pot of soup. I do all my own washing here, I hand wash it in my bathroom and dry them off in front of the heater. I have two clothes horses. I got myself an iron and I do my ironing. Don, he’s got nice shirts and I said, ‘Well, I’ll be ironing all your summer shirts,’ just because we’re in here doesn’t mean we have to look like rag bags.

My advice to people today is stop thinking about yourself and start thinking of other people for a change. There’s too much of me, me, me. Yes, there’s not enough people thinking of other people, unless it’s really rammed down their throat, and then they do something about it. You take the farmers, the farmers have been struggling for years and it’s only the last three or four months that’s it’s come to the forefront and then everybody wants to help. They should have been helping them years way back. Yes, stop thinking of themselves for a change. Or, I’ve got a bigger house than you, or I’ve got a bigger car than you, or bigger TV. And think of the homeless, they are the ones I feel sorry for. People say, oh, yeah, but they leave home. Yeah, but you don’t know what their home is like, that’s how I look at it.

Libby Fitzpatrick

Libby Fitzpatrick

86, St Ann's

I don’t know how old I was, but they must have asked me if I wanted to go down and see something special, and Mum didn’t want me to go, but anyway I went, and I remember holding onto this hand and when they let the pontoon go it went swoosh and the water came back at me, it was a bit scary, but I was pretty right. Sir Alan Knight was lovely with me, he become quite a good friend of mine through my life. Lady Knight and Alan Knight lived near me and so I knew them very well, and so with this pontoon, Mum didn’t want me to be there, but Dad wanted me to go, but Alan Knight took me and I remember him holding my hand and he didn’t let it go, he made sure I was alright.  They had a floating bridge (Hobart Bridge, built 1943), part of it is still there because there is a lift span and they’ve still got a bit of the concrete there underneath the big bridge now that goes over and so it was in the same position and they used it while they built the big bridge, and then of course the big ship ran into the big bridge and my husband had problems with that!

My Dad used to like taking me places and my sister was 9 years older than me. Dad was out a job and so he became a stock and share broker, I don’t know how he made all his money, but he made a lot of money. He would often go to Melbourne because the stock exchange there was bigger than here, and if there was a lot to be sold, he used to go to the mainland. I went with him once and it scared the living daylights out of me! Because I was frightened I was going to get lost, because we were near the railways station and there must be a river or something that comes out. It’s funny the memories you have when you were little.  Back then life was different – more primitive – we’ve got much easier lives now, stoves that work and that sort of thing. When I was first married, I don’t know how I did my cooking, but I know it wasn’t easy, it wasn’t the way my mother did it. I lived through it, and learned to cook. When we married, we went to Bronte Park and it was very primitive up there.

My husband (Michael) was an engineer and he knew everything, you know what it’s like when they know it all. He was a very clever man and did most of the dams here, designed them. I was lucky to be able to travel the world a lot with my husband, walking through dams. We did a lot of travel and he designed dams and he did a rock fill one, and it was quite unusual and it’s the dam behind, you know where they do the racing with the rowing? Well, there’s a dam upstream from that, and it’s a rock filled dam and it was quite unusual, never been built before and so he travelled the world telling them about this and there are a lot of dams like it now, because they were simpler to build and they were stronger and stayed put. But we did have a fright once, we were out somewhere and Michael suddenly realised that there was a huge swell of water coming down, and we’ve just had one recently in the rivulet, and he worried about this dam and he was gone! And I thought oh my god that will be the end of him! Anyway, it was alright, he realised that rivulet was going to knock his dam up further, but it did stand up to it. But some of them, when there was a huge storm, it was quite dangerous, you didn’t want to go near it.  Being an engineer… we nearly got flooded a few times. And you know the big flood we had in the other day? We had one of those. And he was running trying to control it because it was part of his job. You lose people when you’ve got a big flood going through your city.

I remember sitting down with my children, I think it was the last day of the school holidays, and I was sitting at the little beach near Wrest Point and I suddenly saw this fire and it literally went pssshhhhhh like that and I thought jeepers! That’s a strong wind doing that! It was a fire out at New Norfolk, so I said “Come on kids, we’ve got to get home!” So we got home, just in time to shut it all up and people came, wanting to break windows and things, and I said “No! Don’t touch anything!” We had to police them, because they wanted to break windows and pinch things I think! It was awful! Anyway, the sarking under the roof burnt, but the house was alright, but it was scary. The fire literally hit Fern Tree at the same time as it hit me at the top of the hill at Mount Stuart, and that was scary, that’s how fast it was going. It was one of the worst fires I think they’ve ever had. I had my three children and also my sister’s children, I had a lot on my mind, I said to them all “Don’t move from anywhere! You’ve got to stay exactly there!” and that was under the house. They behaved themselves, I think they were a bit scared, it frightened them. But anyway, we survived. One house burnt right down behind me and it was very sad, because she had two or three children and I don’t think she could afford that happening, she didn’t have it insured. But anyway, that’s life, you’ve got to be insured. Michael rang me up and I ran back inside because I knew who it was and he said ‘have you got a fire up there?’ and I said ‘YES! Get home quick!”, “Oh, how bad is it? I don’t think I need to come home?” I said, ‘Get. Home.” When he came home at the top of the hill, he said ‘Oh my god’. He realised he should have come home! But yes, that was quite an experience. He rang up and argued about it with me and said, just how bad is it? I said, GET HOME! Honestly, it was like I was making a fuss about nothing!  When that fire came at me, it really was scary, and I had a baby on my hip, I had two small children, and my sister’s children, so I had to look after a lot of children, I said you’re not allowed to move! You’ve just got to stay still! It was a bad day, I’ve never forgotten it, and I never want to do it again. But I was sitting on the beach when I saw it on the other side of the river and I knew then I was in trouble. On the top of Mount Stuart, there’s a look out there, my house was just below the lookout, it wasn’t safe, but I was lucky.

I had to look after dad and mum as they got older, they got sick, like mum got ulcers on her legs and dad got a bit of Alzheimer’s. He liked to have lunch at the RSL club, he’d go there and the club would ring through and say he’s arrived. And then when he’d left, they’d ring through and say he’s gone, and then the person where he ends up had to ring in, and then I knew where he was. Well, sometimes it didn’t always go right, and I’d have to go out leaving my children at home looking for my father. And I found him at bar one night. It must’ve been… just turned 6 o’ clock. And they said, “Thank God, you’ve come!”, because it was Friday. And they didn’t know what to do with this man that they had sitting in there. He’d bought some trousers, had money. Anyway, I found him and got him back home. But it wasn’t easy because I had three children. I can’t remember how old they were, but I know it was a struggle because Michael’s job was a pretty full-on job and quite often he didn’t get home until late either. So Drew, my eldest, had to be responsible a little bit. If I had to go looking for dad, Drew would take over looking after the two girls. It wasn’t easy to look after parents back in those days, if they say they wanted to do something, you couldn’t stop them. And dad bought tickets to go to Brisbane, and I had to send… I got a nurse to go with them. Actually it was the nurse dad used to go to. She says, “I’ll go with him. I’ll take him up there for 12 days” – she lasted 8 days! He was a bit naughty. And, you know, she lost him a couple of times, just like I lost him.  Thinking he was just sitting there and suddenly he wasn’t there. He’d take off. Anyway, he was a very good dad to me, so I really did have to look after him.

I started working at Lipscombe Childcare, it was who I knew rather than what I knew that got me the job. I remember Princess Mary’s mother came in one day and she said “I don’t like the way you’re running this,” she said, “I want all the cupboard doors taken off” and she looked around the room with a real snooty nose, and she took the doors off! Of course all the children bought everything out on the floor and then they were sick of them! Anyway, I rang her up and I said “well I’m not going to stay here if you’re going to leave it like this, you’ve got to come back down and out these cupboard doors back on, and I will stay!” And she came down and fixed it! She didn’t apologise, she still thought she was right! But it was stupid! Some of those old ladies, you couldn’t tell them anything! I suppose I was just as bad when I got old. I tried to listen to people and tried to give softer advice.  Looking after Princess Mary was quite a responsibility when she came to the crèche. She grew up with me I suppose, because I started looking after her probably when she was about 5. She was a sweet little girl, and she has always been sweet to me, and when she first met her love, I said to her “Well, you’ve got to go and quickly learn the language”, which she did, and she came back and she thanked me for that. And then they met up again in Sydney when there was a yacht race on and that was when he proposed. She’s got 4 children now. I haven’t seen her for probably 12 months, the last time they were here, they went to Government House and I did go out and see them, but I felt a bit like I was being pushy, but she did ring up and ask me to come, but it didn’t seem right. She didn’t get the chance to see me much once she had the four children, but I loved her children, and they were always lovely with me.

I did a lot of teaching (painting), I took over the running of the Colour Circle, but then we lost the building and then I didn’t know what to do and I was going to close it down, and then I ran into the Lord Mayor and I said “Gee it’s sad that I’m going to have to stop running those Colour Circle classes,” and he said “Oh, you can’t do that! My wife learned how to paint there! I will find you a building.” Anyway, he did the next day and it’s still going! I’d like to go up and see it again, you know, the people, but I don’t like to ask.

It’s harder to look after children these days, I think. You know you’ve got to work, and they’re in crèche, you have to be careful, you know, how you handle them and I think the crèche did very well with the little ones. They teach them; you’re teaching them all the time because if you don’t teach them, they’re not as bright. So, you know, you got to teach them, and play with them, and put the babies to bed.  You’ve got to make sure they eat properly, and they don’t spit it out or throw it on the floor. It’s… it wouldn’t be… I don’t think I could cope with the children today. Because they’re a bit more advanced or something. I don’t know. I can’t explain it. But the children in our day, a lot of them went to crèche and they didn’t see their parents. Parents dropped them off at 8 o’clock and picked them up at 6. How do you know your child when you do that? There’s too much of the crèche I think. But what do I know.

Oh. I don’t think I could handle it (raising teenagers today). You got to treat them as an adult. You mustn’t treat them as children. I can remember something happened. I can’t think what it was now. But I snapped and it doesn’t work when you snap, you make it worse.  Well, you got to keep an eye on them because you can’t trust them. And if you can’t trust them, they might get pregnant. And so, I don’t know. I did manage to cope with my own but it wasn’t easy. But I did get them through.  I caught my daughter smoking. I had been a smoker until somebody said to me that if I was having a baby, if you continue to smoke, it will hurt your baby. I came home and I had a cigarette, “Oh! This is hurting my baby.” I put it out and I didn’t have another one ever again. But, honestly, I don’t know how I gave up because I used to smoke about 20 a day.  I don’t know why I smoked. It was nerves I suppose. Dad smoked and I suppose I smoked too. I started when I was about ten. A friend of mine, and she still rings me nearly every day, she still smokes. But she used to pinch her father’s smokes and I think I used to pinch a few of dad’s too, so that’s how I got them.

There was a lot more respect then there is now, which is sad, I think. Do you agree with me? Respect is being polite, being friendly, and not being bossy. I had a good life and an interesting life and, you know, I’ve tried to join in with everything. And I do a lot of paintings here and now, we’d been doing this sort of stuff, and, you know, I just enjoy being with people. I don’t like sitting here and not having somebody to talk to or do something. Once I’ve read the paper, I’m usually off to see everyone…

Marie de la Motte

Marie de la Motte

85, St Ann's

My parents, Albert and Elsie, were both from farming stock.  Dad was from Yarlington (near Colebrook) and Mum was from Gray (near St Mary’s in the northeast of Tasmania).  Both left the land and my dad had various jobs in Hobart and Launceston until he was offered a position as a salesman with the Singer Sewing Machine Company in Launceston.  Mum was a cook in various guest houses.  They married in 1930 and had my brother, Peter in 1931 and I was born in 1933.  Soon afterwards dad was transferred to Hobart where he remained with the same company until he retired at the age of 65.  Mum stayed at home to look after us children.  Money was hard to come by in the pre-war years and later Mum told us that there were times when she went without a meal (without letting Dad know) so he wouldn’t have to go without – seeing as he was the breadwinner.

Often Friday nights in Summer Dad would take us in the work van to shoot rabbits.  Or in the season, deer or wallabies for food.  That helped with the meat bill significantly.  In those days (1930s & 1940s) the baker and the milkman both came around with their horse-and-cart delivering the bread and milk every morning.  When necessary, Dad would pick up meat from the butchers’ on his way home for lunch from work, as there were no refrigerators in those days. The grocer would come to the door each week to pick up Mum’s grocery order, then would deliver the groceries each Friday, bringing them to the kitchen and unpacking the boxes onto the table, and taking the boxes with him back to the shop. There were no supermarkets in those days and not very many households had telephones. Later when we did get a phone, Mum would ring through an order to the grocer and he would deliver it on Friday.  As I said, Dad came home for lunch every day.  One of my earliest memories was when Dad was leaving for work after lunch, Mum and I would go down to the gate, he would say goodbye to Mum and drive me down the street to the corner. He would kiss me goodbye and I would run back to Mum who was waiting on the footpath for me.  Imagine that happening these days!

In those days, Kingston and Blackman’s Bay were holiday places and one summer holiday I remember Dad hiring a shack at Kingston for a week.  He took us down on the Friday night and would go home to work for the week and would pick us up the following Friday.  Mum, Peter and I would enjoy going down to the beach every day. We would play on the sand and Mum would be sitting under the shade of a tree reading Woman’s Home Journal or Home Notes – 2 of the magazines of the day!  I must have been sitting too long in the sun one particular day. The next day I woke up with a huge sun blister on my thigh.  I have never liked the beach since!  After we married and had our own family, often in the summer I would pack a picnic tea, pick Deryck up from work and go down to Sandy Bay beach.  Deryck would take the children swimming and playing in the sand – I stayed will away on the grass putting out the picnic tea.  I hated sandy sandwiches – and I just hated the beach after that experience as a child.

In 1939 Dad build a home in Montagu Street, Lenah Valley.  In that era most children (and many men as well) came home for lunch.  Dad would pick us up from school in the Bedford van, belonging to the company, take us home for lunch and then back to school for the afternoon. Dad used to work one week in Queenstown, a few days in New Norfolk and a few days down the Huon each month.  When Dad was away working and we were older, we would travel on the tram to school and home again, but still having lunch at home.  I remember when World War 2 ended, Dad picked Peter and me up from school and took us down to the Town Hall to witness the celebrations – I was 12 years old. During the war years Dad and the other fathers dug air raid shelters at the school and we also had one at home. All windows were taped up with tar paper tape and blacked out to stop the glass splintering.  We had air raid drills every week at school – much as fire drills are practised today.  Mr Abbott, our next door neighbour, had a large box attached to the boot of his car which was a gas producer.   I have no idea how it worked but it must have somehow produced gas to fuel the car.  Food and clothing were rationed as well as petrol.  And it was also difficult to obtain building supplies.

I was a junior teacher at the Lenah Valley School when I was 16 and the following year went to the Launceston Teacher’s College.  In 1953 my husband Deryck migrated by ship – a 3 week voyage – from Ceylon (now Sri Lanka) to join his brother who emigrated the year before.  During the 1950s the White Australia Policy was in force.  This meant anyone wanting to come to Australia had to prove that they were 50% European. Deryck’s brother combed old church registers and tombstones and on the back of a picture in a church he found a document where his great-great grandfather on his father’s side had come from Roubaix, France, in 1796 during the French revolution.  On his mother’s side, her people had come from Amsterdam, Holland, with the East India Company.  This proved European descent of a least 50% – French and Dutch – which fulfilled the requirement for Australian citizenship.

I met Deryck in 1954 at Bicheno, when he came to visit my Aunty who was a missionary in Ceylon whom he met there.  Deryck was working in Melbourne and when he returned after the visit he wrote to me now and again – and I responded of course! In the following year (1955) Dad and Mum gave me a trip to Melbourne for Easter, arranging for me to stay with some friends.  I had written to tell Deryck so he met me at the airport and took me to our friend’s home. I am afraid I didn’t see much of our friends as Deryck and I spent all the time we could together.  By the time Easter ended we had decided to get married on 23rd December, that same year – 1955.

I don’t know what Mum and Dad expected, but really we just clicked and stayed that way for 56 years until Deryck passed away.  I knew Dad was racist (which wasn’t uncommon in the 1950s) and wanted me to marry an Australian.   I don’t think even an Englishman or a New Zealander would have done for Dad.  However, he did come around a little when our first child, Sharon, was born.  Mum was softer and came around much more quickly.  It wasn’t easy for foreigners then, as many people felt the same as Dad.  Deryck was outgoing and friendly and I think others responded in the same way.

We built a house behind Mum and Dad and had four more children after Sharon – Philip, Stephen and Ruth, and then 10 years later Martin arrived. I went back teaching at Goodwood School when Ruth was 4 years old, and the other children were at Lenah Valley until the following year when Ruth joined them. About this time Deryck applied for, and was granted, his Australian citizenship.  In 1970 we moved to a small farm at Dromedary, which was a wonderful move. We had 14 years there before moving on.  The children enjoyed having plenty of room for their various hobbies, old cars, and a horse for Ruth etc. Deryck could get away from the office. He was Claims Managers at Medical Benefits Fund but his heart was on the land.  He had been brought up on tea estates and enjoyed an energetic childhood, especially when school was closed for the whole year in 1942 due to WW2.  He loved gardening.

Bridgewater School was a small country school of 65 children – where Philip, Stephen and Ruth had their primary school years.  When Martin was about 2 months old the principal asked if I would teach music in the school.  Martin would sleep or play next to the piano in his carry cot.  When he was around 12 months old he upgraded to a playpen and could recognise 14 or more songs and would sing along with the children in his own lingo.  When he was a little older, the principal asked if I would teach English and Social Studies, two hours a week, so I arranged to leave Martin with a friend who had a child the same age.  Sharon was already attending Ogilvie High School.  She and Deryck used to catch the train from Boyer Paper Mills each morning at the bottom of our paddock where there was a small siding, and home again on the train to Bridgewater, where I would drive the 3 miles to pick them up.  Each Friday night there would be a steam locomotive pulling two or three carriages…bringing back fond memories for Deryck, who had worked as a fireman on the railway engines in Ceylon – his first job after leaving school.

The children all did very well at school and trained as a dental therapist, diesel mechanic, air traffic controller, nurse and IT programmer.  Now all are married and we have 15 grandchildren and 15 and ¾ great grandchildren.   In 1975 Deryck took me to Sri Lanka for the first time.  Deryck made trips back four more times and I accompanied him on three of those trips.  We also went to the UK and New Zealand and stayed with Sharon and her husband who had a café in the Solomon Islands.  This trip was in April 2011.  Sadly Deryck passed away suddenly just 12 months later.  We spent many happy years of family life with its ups and downs.

My advice to parents today would be to please teach your children to be honest, have respect and to take responsibility for their actions.

Albert & Mavis Drew

Albert & Mavis Drew

88 & 91, St Ann's

Albert: I was in the Northcote band and we did a tour of Tasmania and in the process we came to Hobart and Mavis’ father was the bandmaster of the Hobart band, and so we met. And Mavis came back to Melbourne for a while and then we decided we’d come back here and so we finished up getting married and then we stayed here ever since. I was 18 and Mavis was 21, she was the original cougar. See it’s so different these days. I was sort of in Melbourne, Mavis was here, but nowadays, you just come over and both go live with one another. No one thinks anything of it. In those days it was a high disgrace. If you went and lived… you just didn’t do it! If you wanted to live together, you had to get married. No doubt about it. No, we’ve had a good life together. Really good. So, there you go.
Mavis: I paid him to say that.  This 1st December we have been married for 70 years, we are looking forward to celebrations with the family.

Mavis: I think younger people should forget about holidays once they’re married. And try to work together and when you have arguments, try to work it out between you and don’t just pack up and buzz off. They make the big mistake now of having holidays and wanting everything first, and then when they get married, they find that they haven’t got what somebody else has got, because somebody else didn’t rush into going on holidays. They’ve got their things together and worked on getting a home first and then…
Albert: Looking back, I mean, we were in the shack, and we never had any washing machine back then, and Mavis used to do the washing over the bath. We didn’t have our own refrigerator, and eventually we did get a refrigerator, we got a vacuum cleaner, a washing machine. We thought we were on top of the world. And any thought of holidays… Oh, we used to go to Melbourne, my parents were over there. We used to go over there about once a year to see them, or they’d come over here. We never spent big, so Mavis went back to work and we had extra money coming in and that sort of set us up, then we travelled.

Albert: I think things are a lot different these days, and I think the fact we were pretty strict on the eldest, it worked on the others, they knew what would happen before, and if they stepped out of line they knew what to expect. It just set the tone for it and I mean we really didn’t spank them all that much, but they knew that if they did something wrong that was the punishment in those days. I always used to look at it, “Do it now and get it over with and get on with things”.
Mavis: You’d laugh now, but Albert used to cut the boys hair…five boys and they wanted their hair…
Albert: This was about The Beatles’ time
Mavis: He had different cuts, square cut and everything else and when they got older they wanted to go to the barbers. This particular day, Albert had gone in the day before and said to the barber, “the kids will be in later and they’ll tell you they want this cut and that cut and something else” but he said “they’ll have the short back and sides anyway”. The boys all came in and they sat in the chair and start to line off what they wanted done to their hair, the barber said, “don’t worry boys,” he said “you won’t have to worry about that…”
Albert: “Your father’s already been in.”

Albert: We went from the Salvation Army and went to Wesley Church quite a few years, and then all the kids grew up and they didn’t want to go to church, and we thought oh well, we were only going to sort of give them a lead, and so we just didn’t bother anymore after that.
Albert: I never had a beer until I was 35 because of that (Salvation Army). I’d been brought up by Salvation Army, they never had alcohol at my home. And I thought I was setting my family a good example by not having it. But then when my eldest son, he was about 15 or 16, came home drunk one night, staggered up the stairs, I thought, “Oh, perhaps I’d better start having a drink and show him how to drink”.
Mavis: He made it all the way up the stairs!
Albert: The joys of bringing up boys! I guess girls are as bad. They surely would be these days.


Albert: We did silly things like sulking instead of sorting things out, we’d go for days without talking. That was just plain ridiculous.
Mavis: And now we look back and think how stupid we were to sulk about silly little things when it was only a simple thing that you could’ve…
Albert: Sorted out
Albert: We’ve always been a good couple together, and, you know, got along well together and that sort of thing, and now looking back, I couldn’t see doing anything a great deal different.

Mavis Drew

Mavis Drew

91, St Ann's

My family lived in Adelaide when I was born and moved to Tasmania when I was 4. We came to Tasmania so my father could find work and we lived with my grandparents at the old female factory, which was burnt in the 1967 bush fires. My father eventually found work on the roadworks. I would be the only person alive who lived in the women’s prison. I was only a little girl when my grandparents lived there. It was the Female Factory and the girls and married mothers were this side, and there was a big archway that you went through on this side.  Where I lived would have been the matron’s quarters. It was a lovely old home and beautiful old staircase. It was beautiful and it, you know, it was a really lovely home to live in, but we lived through some funny things there.  Grandpa used to kill the pigs and then someone used to come and cut the meat up. Grandma used to make the butter. I used to turn the handle for the butter to mix it up and it comes out and you cut it into shape.  But living down in the country, that was a circus. I didn’t have a doll or a doll’s tram or anything like that. And mum one Christmas made a cloth doll, painted its face really pretty, and my pram was a baking dish with a rope on it.

My first days of school, I was warned if I didn’t stop talking, I’d be punished. I couldn’t stop talking could I? The teacher called me up the front and got the glue and stuck a patch over my mouth…that was respect. Parents nowadays would hit the roof, but parents in those days would probably say you deserved it.  I didn’t think this it was funny at the time. But my brother’s only 13 months younger than me, and we were in walking distance of the school to home. And one day we took our shoes and socks off, to walk through the creek that had just overflowed down the bottom of our school yard. The creek ran right up to the prison, at the Women’s prison where we lived. And so we got our shoes and socks off and toddled off up the creek, which we would have got in trouble for. Anyway, we got as far as the bridge that goes over the creek there at the Women’s prison, and there’s mum sitting on the lawn with the strap.

I left school at 14 and went to work – this was during the war – went to work at Rundles the Jewellers. At 16 I went to the Optical Annex – that’s where they used to make these lenses for the cameras for the aeroplanes, the guns and that sort of thing.  All sorts of cameras that they would need. And so we used to make those. And the work finished after the war.  I used to grind them from the rough glass so that they were absolutely smooth and they had to be just right to fit the cameras. So I had to start right from scratch and I used to have a good time, but it was a sad time. Some of the girls that worked with me… some of their husbands, they were just married and they went off to the war, and the girls I worked with, some of their husbands didn’t come back… And they had to keep on working through that. At that stage I didn’t know Albert, I just had to sort of be there to talk to the girls and I was the youngest. It was a bad time for the girls that were left behind.

I was there (1967 Hobart bushfires) and I was minding somebody else’s little baby. He was about 18 months I suppose. His mother was a school teacher and he was having his sleep. My next door neighbour, who is still my friend today, we were sitting out on the lawn enjoying a bag of peaches my sister had given me a few days before, and then suddenly there was an explosion on the hill opposite. Then I said to Gwen, “We better ring the fire brigade. Those people wouldn’t have known that happened.” So she goes in to ring: no answer. By this time, the fire was over the hill and it kept on coming. Anyway, the fire brigade came up there and by this time the sparks out of the gum trees had blown over the top of our house into the bush and set that all alight. And so it came back over our house. By this time, I said to Gwen, “You’d better ring your husband. We better get out of this!”, so she rang in and he didn’t believe us! We said, “Well you know, the place is on fire!” By this time the shock had set into me, Gwen’s husband drove up in the car, and he’s going up the driveway, and I got my hose, and as he got out of the car, I hosed him up.  He says, “Ah, Mavis. That’s my new suit!” I said to him, “I don’t want you to catch on fire!”  So, I grab the little boy and we got in the car and drove down to the South Hobart School and … all this time I was in my bathers. I’d been sunbathing and didn’t have any clothes on, just bathers!  And I couldn’t go back inside; you couldn’t get inside because it was all on fire.  So a gentleman took the little boy to the barracks to be looked after, the mother got word that the little boy was there. That’s where everybody went to pick up their children, at the barracks. I was just waiting at the bus stop at the post office for my children to come from Cosgrove so that they wouldn’t get the bus home because there wasn’t anything there.  And the eldest boy, he was only 16, worked at the electrical shop, where Albert worked.  There was a lady, she appeared from I don’t know where, she had a basket full of sandwiches. I don’t know how she knew anybody would be at the post office. From there, I got all my kids and I was trying to work out what I could do. The only thing I could do was to fly to Melbourne to Albert’s parents, and I didn’t know how I was going to get the money to get there.  We finished up in Brighton Camp. From there on my father worked at Clarence High School.  And opposite there, they had a house that they used for like a camp, like you talked about. And they let us have that for 12 months.  The top floor. We were… the kids still came in from the country, but they used the bottom floor, but we were allowed to have the top floor.  But we had to wait until they all used the shower and gone off and…and gone to bed then we were allowed to go down and shower. But it was comfortable we were able to start to get our life together.

Well, after the fires we didn’t have anything else but the boys’ school uniforms and we didn’t know next morning what we were going to do. So we heard that they had clothes being distributed at the church, and so we went off down there and one of the twins he was about 13 – 13 or 14 – anyway, he looked at the clothes and said “I’m not wearing those”. And his father said, “Well son you can wear those or not wear anything. We don’t have any money so what are you going to do?”

I think younger people should forget about holidays once they’re married. And try to work together and when you have arguments, try to work it out between you and don’t just pack up and buzz off. They make the big mistake now of having holidays and wanting everything first, and then when they get married, they find that they haven’t got what somebody else has got, because somebody else didn’t rush into going on holidays. They’ve got their things together and worked on getting a home first and then holidays.

Albert Drew

Albert Drew

88, St Ann's

My parents were in the Salvation Army, they were required to move every 12 months or two years. Two years was the longest they ever stayed in any place. I was at a different school every year, it was very difficult to make friends when we were constantly moving, I didn’t enjoy that. We moved from where I was born in Southern Australia, to Melbourne, then we moved to Launceston, and then back to Melbourne – that was the beginning of the war – we settled at Northcote, a suburb of Melbourne.

In my early years it was a pretty traumatic time because I was only 9 when the war broke out and about 14 or 15 when it finished. My father went with the Red Shield, he went up to serve in New Guinea and my 3 brothers, 2 were in the Air Force and the other was in the AIF. They all came back except my brother in the AIF; he was killed.  And having them all away from home must have been a terrible time for my mother. I didn’t realise until I looked back on that, what a terrible time it must’ve been.  I feel very sorry for my mother and the things she had to… the way she had to go, and I feel like I could’ve done a lot better, as far as supporting her I mean. I was only 10 or 11, but looking back now, I could’ve done more to support her in my own way.  There wasn’t much I could’ve done except behave myself a bit more, not leave school. She never found out about that, only when I truly left. The problem was I found changing schools so often, and going in from state to another state, all their standards were different, and I’d come in and we always moving over the Christmas period, which didn’t give you a chance to get a reference. The school you were going to and the teachers would bombard you with information and all the rest of it. I reckon looking back I could’ve enjoyed my schooling my lot better.  I started working at age 14 as a motor body builder and at the age of 25 was in retail working at electrical stores.

After we got married I set about building a little holiday shack on our block of land. And then in front of it, we would go on to build our house. I used to come home from work and Mavis would have the children fed, ready for bed, and we had our dinner, and I shot off, I was gone to work on the home. So Mavis was left with the children. And luckily I was just a stone’s throw, just a walk into the front of it. And as soon as Mavis finished with the children, she’d come down and help. It took us 12 months to build the shack. It was a four-room shack. It was what was called in those days a ‘temporary dwelling’. So what happened was we lived in that while I built the house. Of course in those days, I still used to play football and cricket on the weekend. And didn’t work on Sundays, so I was pretty restricted on time. And anyway, I built the house and we lived in that for quite a few years.  In the midst of trying to buy the block of land and get it established we had a son, about 14 months later. Then, let’s see, there were these twin sons. We had twins. That was a bit of a…you could say, blow. But it wasn’t really, when they told us we were going to have twins. And we had nothing! And a two year old sitting on the step waiting for mummy to come home from the hospital.  So we had a bit of a time then. Anyway, we moved in and we built a house. It was on a hill. In those days we still had to take all of the gear to up to the block, because in those days there were no trucks, you know, we had a bit of a drive up and couldn’t get up easily with a load of bricks or metal. We used to get down at night when I came home from work. Mavis would have a rope around her shoulders onto the barrow, and I’d have the wheelbarrow and we took it all up. That was a happy time. We were young and we knew we had to do it that way or we wouldn’t get it done. And so then we worked long like that…It was all part of it. I knew, you know, it had to be done.

When the shack was finished, the inspector came up and he said, “Alright. Yes, I’ll pass it. I believe you’ve finished.” But when we moved into the shack, it was our temporary dwelling, we’d like to call it, the inspector from the Hobart City Council came up and he said to Mavis, ”You know you’re not supposed to be living in this? You’ve got no permission” or anything like that. He said, “Does your husband want to spend his Christmas in jail?” So anyway, long and short of it was I had to go into the Council and they said to me, “Well you can lodge your deeds as your good intention that you will build a house. I said “I can’t do that because if I give you the deeds I can’t borrow the money to build the house! “Oh, you can pay a deposit of 200 pounds” he said. I said, “I haven’t got 200 pounds”. And he said, “Oh, if you get an influential person who’ll go and guarantee it and say that you’ll do it then.” So anyway, the Reverend from the Wesley Church signed the little thing saying, “Yes, I was an upstanding citizen; I’m sure to do it.” It certainly got us through that. So then we built the house and finished around the mid 1950’s, the kids all grew up in there.  And what I should tell you that had a three-bedroom house and it wasn’t like plaster sheet like on these walls. This was lathen plaster, we used to call it. The whole house, the ceiling and everything. I hadn’t built anything before so I had the book ‘The Australian Carpenter’ told you how to build a house and so I looked up what to do for this and that and pitching the roof. My father-in-law was a cabinet maker and he came up and said, “No. You’ll never do that. You’ll have to get somebody in to do it.”  But anyway, I had my book here, and so I did it!

Well, the thing was, in those days, I played football in North Hobart for a little while, then I got injured, and with the growing family, I thought, “Well, this isn’t good” so I had to do something else. So, I took up umpiring; I umpired for about 15 years. But the thing was, with the umpiring you got paid for it unlike football, so I put it into the house and it helped us build the house and that sort of thing.  Looking back, I mean, we were in the shack, and we never had any washing machine back then, and Mavis used to do the washing over the bath. We didn’t have our own refrigerator, and eventually we did get a refrigerator, we got a vacuum cleaner, a washing machine. We thought we were on top of the world! And any thought of holidays… Oh, we used to go to Melbourne, my parents were over there. We used to go over there about once a year to see them, or they’d come over here. We never spent big, so Mavis went back to work and we had extra money coming in and that sort of set us up, then we travelled.

Things were going nicely until the ‘67 bush fires came along, and it went all down, that was a traumatic time. I was down in Middleton installing a washing machine and a stove. When I was driving, I could see this fire coming over the hills at the back of the city, and I thought, “Gee! That’s going be close by the time I come back”. And anyway, I got down there, it was about lunchtime, and the bloke was like, “Oh, stay for a bit of lunch”. Fortunately, I did because we were having lunch when the fire got down there, so I helped him save his house, not knowing that my house was burning down at the same time. My eyes got burnt from the fire so somebody brought me down up from Middleton to the hospital and formed a queue, there were a lot of people with burnt eyes and that sort of thing. They had it all set up beautifully in that when you went in, the doctor looked at you and would say, “You go that way and you go that way. That’s not badly burnt.” that sort of thing. And then a guy from the City Council was there and said, “I’ll take you home”, I said, “Well, thanks very much”.  He said, “You’re alright. Your house is still there. So anyway, we went down to somewhere in Hobart were they were collating information where people were. I found out that Mavis and the family were over at her sister’s home.  And I said to her, “Well, we’re lucky the house is alright”, “No, we’re not. It’s down”, she said. The next day, the next day we went up and…it wasn’t there.  Only the foundation was there.

Well, the main thing was that the family was safe. That was the main thing. We were young. I started to draw up the plan for a new one!  We had a lot of help and they had a Bush Fire Relief Fund so we got help through that. As far as financially was concerned, by the end of 12 months, we were quite okay. It took more than 12 months to get back in there but…Anyway, we went up there and took a look at it. And the next night we stayed with some friends down in Taroona. We realised that, well we were six kids in, we realised we couldn’t stay with them for too long; we slept on the floor. And they’re offering us some accommodation there at Brighton Camp, the military camp, so we went out there. That was alright for a night or two but then Social Services came out and gave everybody cheques, you know for people who’d come in from the country, and what do they do? They went down to the pub and spent it all and came back drunk… it was terrible. I found a Salvation Army officer and I said, “Look. Can you find us somewhere? We’ll go in the morning but we’ve got to stay somewhere tonight” and we finished up in the jail up there. That was the only safe place.

I think the worst part of it was realising that all our photos and all that sort of things were gone, and in Mavis’ case all the baby things and all that sort of thing. That was sort of the worst part. Fortunately, my parents had a few photos of the kids in the early years that we were able to have. I think that was the hardest part.  As soon as we got up to Brighton Camp I started sketching about what I wanted in our new house and I concentrated on that. And fortunately, the firm I worked with, I used to do T.V. installations in those days, and I had a big Kombi van. I was just on the holidays that week, they said to me, “What do you want to do?” I said, “Well look. I think I’d like to take my holidays so we can organise things. Could I lend the van?”, and they said, “Ah yes”. That was amazing to have the van to take the kids around to school and that sort of thing. And from there on we sorted of planned on getting the new house together. We got a builder organised. But, of course, you couldn’t get bricks to build the house because everyone wanted them.  So anyway, the government said, “We’ll give you a subsidy if you go back and build on the same block.” They were frightened everybody was going to leave all these blocks. And so, what happened, the military came in with the bulldozers and said, “What do you want to do with the foundation?” I said get rid of it. So they bulldozed all the bricks and everything else and took them away, so we had a clean canvas to start with. So that part worked out and we moved on from there.

My grandparents came out from England to help establish the Salvation Army here in Australia. We used to go to church three times on Sundays, but we’ve given it the bypass now, we just drifted away from it over the years.  We went from the Salvation Army and went to Wesley Church quite a few years, and then all the kids grew up and they didn’t want to go to church, and we thought oh well, we were only going to sort of give them a lead, and so we just didn’t bother anymore after that.  I never had a beer until I was 35 because of that (Salvation Army). I’d been brought up by Salvation Army, they never had alcohol at my home. And I thought I was setting my family a good example by not having it. But then when my eldest son, he was about 15 or 16, came home drunk one night, staggered up the stairs, I thought, “Oh, perhaps I’d better start having a drink and show him how to drink”.  The joys of bringing up boys! I guess girls are as bad, they surely would be these days.

Margaret Cope

Margaret Cope

69, Eliza Purton

Margaret’s family invited students from Asian countries each Christmas, welcoming them in each year to their family Christmas dinner in Railton.

“Usually the students were from Malaysia, Vietnam and China. They were engineering students doing a 3 month prac at the cement works over the Christmas holidays. I remember their cooking as they would cook with peanut butter. One fella would come home and ask what we were having and then ask if he could cook. One or two of the students got homesick but Mum was really good at helping them through that. Some students kept in touch and sent photos of their families and came back to visit us.”

Phillip Stafford

Phillip Stafford

84, Eliza Purton

Phil won first place in a chopping competition at Spreyton and competed across Australia in the late 1970’s.

“My first win was in Waratah in the 1940’s I got fined for not wearing white trousers. I remember going to Adelaide once with two others – we went out and painted the town. Our hostess said ‘out the door, turn left and go down 4-5 houses and tell me about it in the morning’. A good time was had by all.”

Deasy O’Connor

Deasy O’Connor

96, Tyler Village

In 1947 Deasy and her mum created a children’s story book – Deasy created the artwork and Deasy’s mum wrote the verses.

“Mum was a lover of writing stories. She had written stories before but never a children’s book and none had been published. I was thrilled when the story was published. I painted the pictures for the book in a little studio in my house near where I used to live. My niece found the story and paintings in the family home at Avoca, I had forgotten about them. My family all love the book especially my nieces and nephews.”

Murray Appleby

Murray Appleby

89, Eliza Purton

Murray shows us that it’s never too late to start a new hobby, challenge or dream – no matter what age you start.

“I was the second eldest of eight children from the farming district of Upper Natone. I left school at 14 years old to work for 25 shilling and my keep. After 2 years I returned home to take over the lease of my grandfather’s farm as it was a soldier’s settlement farm from the First World War. My strongest memory of that time is the smell from bushfires, and of hay.

We often had goose for Christmas lunch and it was the children’s job to catch one the geese, which was most difficult, because the geese were wild and flew away from us!  I remember spending Boxing Days at Blythe Heads.  Mother would pack cold goose and jellies, and we would go by bus from Upper Natone to the wood chopping held near the mouth of the Blythe River. People would arrive in buggies.

I met my first wife Zenna when I was a bus driver and she was a passenger – she lived at Somerset. Zenna refused to get off the bus until the last stop. I have the feeling she asked me out, not the other way around.  We married in 1949 and lived in the old farm house at Upper Natone which had no power and just an open fire to cook with. After 12 months there we sold the farm and moved to Burnie, driving buses and taxis for 8 years.  We had two children Barry and Suzanne. Later working at the Paper Mill on shift work we decided to move to New Zealand for 5 years but enjoyed it so much they stayed for 15 years. Whilst there we travelled to many Pacific Islands.

I was married twice, first Zenna and then Alice – both of them lovely ladies. Alice was an old friend who I’d known for many years. We married, and had fifteen lovely years together.  I wrote my first poem when I was 84 years of age, written about my second wife. I always made sure my ladies had flowers and cards, and especially Valentine’s Day cards.”

Earland Gillow

Earland Gillow

83, Coroneagh Park

Earl played cricket for Australia in the 1940’s and was picked for the combined team undefeated for 3 straight years playing in Adelaide and Western Australia.

“I picked my first cricket bat when I was 13 years of age. It was Frank Wheatland that taught me to be a slow swing bowler. One day a chap by the name of Ray Mayberry took 5 wickets in the one game. He was good and was one of the fastest bowlers I have ever seen, that’s why we won 3 years in a row, he made the team spirit.”

Don Machen

Don Machen

87, Tyler Village

Don was a leading hand carpenter, constructed and maintained bridges that were used by trains and built independent workshops for government agencies around Northern Tasmania during the war.

“I lost my eye when making a model train for my children at Christmas. A detonator exploded on my work bench and my face was burnt and both eyes injured. My eyes were bandaged for some time after, one eye was able to be saved but not the other. My biggest challenge after the accident was getting back to work on the railways. There was a lot of pressure because I was the only one that held a scaffolding licence, they needed me back as soon as I could.”

Lyall Cubit

Lyall Cubit

91, Eliza Purton

Lyall has broken 33 bones in his 67 year cycling career and won the Australian Championship in 1989.

“In 1965 whilst training I fell at Sassafras and fractured my skull. I was put on a bed of ice by Dr Gordon Jamieson at Latrobe which saved my life – 6 months later I was back on the bike. It was the most serious of accidents so is a strong memory. One day a member of the public walked across the track at Latrobe without looking and a group of riders fell trying to avoid them. My advice to budding riders is train, train, train. It’s the only way to be fit enough to compete strongly.”

Nancy Aitken

Nancy Aitken

87, Coroneagh Park

Nancy would often send patrons on their way when they misbehaved at the Top Pub in Penguin.

“Mr Stone, who owned the Top Pub in Penguin, put me in charge of the pub as they were going to England for a holiday. I was helping out in the kitchen at the time. I put a fellow out after he kept ignoring requests to behave and stop loud mouthing. He came back the next day and apologised and he behaved himself ever since. I was always treated with respect and treated as one of the gang. I had positive feedback from all of the patrons. Some of the comments made was that I was helpful, firm but fair and respectful to all the patrons.”

Edward (Ted) Howe

Edward (Ted) Howe

100, Coroneagh Park

1939 at the start of WW2, Ted joined the army at the age of 22.

“I got promoted to Corporal then Sergeant Major. When I got shot a big heap of rocks were nearby so I crawled behind the rocks until someone came over and dressed my leg. They were going to put me on a stretcher but I said no thank you, I could walk – the other soldiers were worse off than me.” “…the Kadoka trail was terrible and was so tough. Steep hills lots of steps in mud and it rained all night. Food was scarce. Nights spent sitting in a heap of water. Never had a cup of tea. Oh I tell a fib, I did get a cup of tea from the Salvation Army. I was sent to see someone about a plane that got cut down and it was the best cup of tea ever in my life I reckon.”

Anton Ward

Anton Ward

82, Eliza Purton

Anton’s daughter reminisces proudly about her Dad’s talents and life accomplishments:

“He was born Anton Willem Ward in Middleburg Holland in 1934.

Mum and dad came out to Australia about 3 months after they were married in 1960. He picked up whatever work he could get. He used to work in factories quite a bit. He worked with BHP in Sydney at one point. A year and a half after we got to Australia he joined the RAAF.

I grew up with dad playing the fiddle, he has perfect pitch and can play anything by ear. People always commented that he was so clever especially when he played the fiddle. He used to play nursery rhymes when I was little. I’ve got a recording of it actually, from when I was about 2.

He had a huge library of books and a huge collection of music, spoke 5 languages and travelled the world. He loved walking, an hour and a half a day. Dad loved the ocean, always did. Dad actually built a boat – a trailer/sailor with a cabin and everything. When we went back to Holland he bought a laser and he and I would get on the lake in Holland (it was freezing) and sail. It’s one of my most cherished memories.

Dad was a devoted husband for over 53 years to his wife Ella. They did so much, they crammed so much into their lives together. They moved a lot – different countries, different states. Mum and dad renovated houses. He was always that quiet, dependable type of person for us. He’s got really good manners, he’s a gentleman, would open doors for people, try to share his food. He is the cleverest person I’ve ever known and the most modest. He didn’t like a fuss. He is the best dad a girl could ever have”.

Leila (Biddy) Bellchambers

Leila (Biddy) Bellchambers

88, Tyler Village

Biddy married George, brought a house in Deloraine, had three children Ruth, Dianne and Ian and lived happily ever after.

“I met my husband-to-be, George at Elizabeth Town Hotel where I was working. I wasn’t allowed out of kitchen, in those times women were not to be seen out in the lounge area. George had just got back from serving in the war and seen me about and thought he would like to meet this girl. One day there was a knock at the door, it was George. My friend answered the door, George asked to see me, so I came to the door and he said, ‘Leila would you like to court with me?’ What did I say? Yes of course!”

Maria (Rie) Jansen

Maria (Rie) Jansen

92, Coroneagh Park

Rie started gymnastics when she was just 6 years old all the way through to 25 years old and was asked to perform in England.

“Once a year we all got together with other gymnastic schools in a paddock and we all did the same exercise together. We all had ribbons and it looked like a red, white and blue flag. My boyfriend wasn’t into gymnastics but I kept going and wasn’t going to stop because of him and even when I married him, still kept it going. My mother said I had to marry my boyfriend before going to Australia. I was asked to go to England to perform but didn’t because I got married and went to Australia. I was looking forward to it but it wasn’t to be.”