I can’t remember exactly which Christmas Wendy first arrived in my life, but it was probably when I was 2, in 1948. She had travelled all the way from Frostville, Pennsylvania in the USA. My Grandfather, Arthur Leake’s cousin, Jane Crowe (nee Piper) sent her to me.
She also sent a similar doll to my cousin, Janelle Leake; I think it was the same Christmas.
Wendy wore a pretty pink frilly organdie dress and bloomers, with white shoes and socks and a bonnet. Her hair may have been mohair and was styled in ringlets. It was originally more of an auburn colour similar to her eyelashes, and her eyes were blue. Mysteriously within a few days, ‘the fairies’ came to take Wendy away again.
In those post war years life was much less affluent than it was to become towards the end of the century. I lived with my mother, Edna Aldridge (Leake) and her siblings, Della and Edward (Ted). Soon after I was born, Della, who was an independent women long before it was the accepted norm, managed to negotiate a bank loan to purchase a house in Concord, a Sydney suburb. 132 Correy’s Avenue, was a solid double brick post WWI two bedroom house with a front verandah and tiled path leading to the front door. The plaque on the wall beside the front door read “BULLECOURT," the name of a WWI battle in 1917 in France.
BULLECOURT
My Mum and I shared the front right hand bedroom with a window opening onto the verandah, A couple of old wooden banana boxes stacked on top of each other with a ginghan curtain on front was my clothes cupboard.
From my child’s eyes, the back yard was enormous, and with only a push mower available my Uncle Ted often let the lawn become a jungle before taking to it with a sythe. Eventually almost half the yard was taken over by a huge pen for the chickens. In the middle of the pen was a well established Loquat Tree. My friend ‘Lally’ Lorraine Allan and I used to spend many happy hours up in the branches of that tree feasting on the loquats.
In accordance with the rules of the time, married women were not permitted to participate in the workforce, so Mum as well as being pregnant with me had no means of support. I do not know the reasons why my father, Herbert Charles Aldridge was never in our lives. My Aunt Della told me long after Mum’s death on 5 December 1979, that she first knew of my existence, when she met her obviously pregnant sister at the Central Railway Station in Sydney in December, 1945. Mum had travelled down from Mudgee, where she had been teaching for some time. Della supported us until Mum was able to resume her teaching career at Annandale Infants School when I was two. Attached to that school was a kindergarten which took in preschool children for all day care. Every school day Mum and I travelled, originally by tram and later by double decker bus from Concord to the corner of Parramatta Road and Johnstone Street in Annandale. We then walked the couple of blocks up Johnstone Street to the school and Kindy.
I remember once, for some reason Mum had to keep me with her in her classroom for a while. She made me sit quietly behind the big blackboard that was on an easel in the corner of the room. I also remember that there were two air raid shelters in the playground between the infants and primary sections of the school. Barred metal gates blocked the entrances down into the dark dungeon-like depths that were apparently flooded.
During many of the school holidays Mum and I would catch the steam train from Strathfield Station up to Lithgow to stay with my Grandad and Auntie May. I loved playing with the the local kids, exploring the mountains around the Vale, catching tadpoles and swimming in the local creek.
Every Christmas, Della made sure we had a tree, and special treats such as few cherries or an apricot along with custard, jelly and other such delights.
On Christmas Morning I would wake up early, eager to see what might have appeared under the tree during the night. Without fail Wendy would be there, lying on white tissue paper in her cardboard box home. I had a little cream painted wooden pram that I would gently put her in and push her around the yard. I wonder if Uncle Cliff, who was such a handy man, might have made the pram for me. No matter how much I tried to keep her with me at all times, those fairies would inevitably come and whisk Wendy away within a few days of Christmas. I was so naive I just accepted that it would happen.
In those days, it was usual to only receive two gifts, one from Santa and one from your parents.On top of that there would always be Della’s awesome fruit box. I remember one Christmas I was given a wooden horse which had a carriage attached. I called him Dobbin. (Or was it Della who gave him that name?). Leading up to Christmas the large stores in‘town’ (Sydney) such as David Jones, Grace Brothers, Farmer’s and Anthony Hordens would decorate their shop fronts with the most breathtaking animated displays, usually with a particular Children's Christmas story as the theme. It was always a special outing to take one of those old Double Decker busses in to the City to see the shop windows and of course visit Santa Clause.
When it was time for me to attend school, Mum enrolled me at the North Strathfield Public School, directly across the road from our h0me. She made it clear that she did not think it would be a good idea to have me at her school. I still remember my first day at the North Strathfield Infants school, a two story building towards the back of the larger school ground
I was very happy to be going to a ‘real’ school, however there were several kids crying and clutching to their mothers as if they were going into purgatory. From that day I became what was later to be called a ‘latch key kid’. Mum needed to leave earlier in the morning to arrive at school in time and she would not arrive home until about 4.30pm or often later. I only had to walk across the road to school. I do remember one day - it was warm so must have been summer, that I misplaced the house key and had to wait outside until Mum arrived home. She was very hot, bothered and unhappy with me as she wiggled a piece of wire in the window gap to undo the latch. I can still remember watching her awkwardly climb onto an old wooden box and scramble through the window. Needless to say I never lost that key again.
Della planted several fruit trees in the back yard, including bananas and a navel orange. One afternoon after I arrived home from school, I pushed my dolls pram out the back, and from memory picked every single orange on that tree (about 7 or 8 I think).
I then pushed them up the street to the Warman’s Corner Grocery Store, where my friend Narelle Warman and her sister, Susan lived. We sat on the brick wall beside their place and ate every delicious juicy one of those oranges.I cannot recall any consequences for that plundering of the orange crop. Either I have blanked them out OR more likely Mum and Ted had to restrain Della from murdering me. She had been watching those oranges grow in great expectation.
That was not the only time that I earned Della’s wrath. I remember two occasions when I had been sent up to the local shop, once to buy peanut butter, which in those days came in waxed cup-like containers with a cardboard lid. Another time it was to the bakers for half a loaf of bread. On both occasions I arrived home with an empty container - the cup scraped clean of it’s contents; and the hollowed out crust of that delicious fresh white bread. Della did not have to say anything - she just gave me THAT look and I was very much aware that I was in deep trouble.
Reading this it seems that my Mum had very little to do with me, but that is far from the case. She was always there for me, and loved me unconditionally. Della just knew how to create adventures such as a picnic up to the Horseshoe Waterfall at the back of the Vale of Clywdd, or a swim in one of the local water holes from her childhood. I vividly remember the time when she took me to a favourite swimming hole in the Coxes River. As we jumped in at one end of the pool a large brown snake wriggled out of the water and slithered away up the far bank and into the bushes. Needless to say we decided that we were not so interested in a dip after all.
Della would occasionally take me to Luna Park and the Olympic Swimming Pool next to it. Whilst I went off on my own with a handful of ride tickets, Della would sit in her car beside the Harbour under the Bridge, marking exam papers or reading a book. No helicopter parenting in those days, but maybe life was simpler too.
Mum loved going to the Sydney Royal Easter Show to see the Crafts and the Produce Pavilion in particular. I just loved going for the show bags of course. I was limited to one or at the most two bags, so choosing was excruciating. I was never allowed to go to Sideshow alley, but I do remember being intrigued by the Boxing Tent with spruikers out the front enticing young men to prove their manliness in the ring. There were also tents advertising such things as the worlds hairiest woman, or smallest woman or tallest man or some other unusual spectacle.
On the last day of 1954 my grandfather passed away. I was not aware that he was dying, or in fact that he had died. All I recall is that Mum and I were sleeping in the room next to his, when Ted poked his head around the door and said “He’s gone” . Mum told me not to worry and I went back to sleep as she slipped out of the room. No talk of death, Grandad simply disappeared, no longer in my life. A bit like Wendy really, only he did not come back.
Della moved back up to Lithgow and transferred to Lithgow High School where she taught for the rest of her teaching days. Somebody had to live with their oldest sister, May and Della was that person.
Most Christmas Holidays she would have me stay with her to give Mum a break I guess. Often Janelle would come with me. I remember one Christmas, Della set up a lovely old brass double bed in the garage that was down the side of the block below the house. It was under a huge old acorn tree. On Christmas Eve Janelle and I were lying in that bed, gazing at the pine tree we had collected and decorated earlier. Suddenly Janelle started to scream - just above us, was the largest, hairiest most frightening spider you could imagine (most likely a tarantula}. Somehow we managed to get to sleep and in morning, there was Wendy, under the tree as usual with a box of cherries, apricots, peaches and other delights.
GLIMPSES OF THE VALE OF CLYWDD
Mountains enclose the Vale on three sides, with the Valley winding up the middle. The Gap Road (Saywell Street and now Hartley Valley Way) from Lithgow down Doctors Gap to Hartley Vale cuts through there. Looking from the front door of Grandad’s house you would be looking up to the Lion and Tiger rocks. Looking out the back on his little verandah, the brooding Monkey would be gazing down upon you. Finally the back side of the house nestled near the steep hills with two rows of sandstone cliffs - the first called ‘First Toppies’ and the second, “Second Toppies”. Halfway up to those, there was a triangle shaped lump of sandstone under which was a permanent spring, with tadpoles, frogs and gudgeons in it.
Below is an annotated map of the Vale of Clywdd that I wrote for my UTAS Family History Course. It reflected how my Great Grandfather, David Leake, and Great Grandmother Maryann (nee Bampton) settled mom the Vale back in the 1880. Maryann had just arrived onboard a sailing ship from England to marry David, who had arrived two years earlier.
MEANWHILE, BACK AT BULLECOURT
The years went by, I moved from Infants to Primary School.
Two teachers stand out in my memory. Miss Prescott, a tall spinster with soft golden orange hair, who insisted on good manners. She would often ask “Did you leave your manners at home today?”. The best treat was one of her butterscotch sweets, which would be handed out on the rare occasion of special conduct or achievement. The other teacher, our head mistress, Miss Fitzgerald, who ran the school almost along military lines. Every morning when the bell went we children lined up in class groups. Usually on Mondays, Miss F would address the pupils; we would then sing the national anthem (God Save the Queen) and to the accompaniment of some military music such as Colonel Bogey’s March we marched like little soldiers into class.
Holidays came and went. Della had given me her old push bike, which was a great source of pleasure to me. In the holidays I would often join my group of friends in the large asphalt playground in the school and ride around for hours. I remember coming a huge cropper once, when trying to outrace Paul Scardino. I was looking back at him, and did not see the huge rock in front of me until I was hurtling over the handlebars to land most inelegantly on the ground. I lost most of the skin on my knees not to mention my wounded pride.
CONCORD
There was a laneway running past the side of Bullecourt which provided rear access to the row of shops facing Concord Road. Most of my of friends lived above those shops.
Back then the milkman drove up the lane with his horse and cart with a large milk tank on the back. He would fill your billy can with milk from a tap at the rear. In the very early days we did not even have a refrigerator, instead the Ice man delivered a huge block of ice that kept food cool in the ice chest. Later, Della purchased a kerosine fridge and later again I remember Mum bought a small Kelvinator electric fridge.
Looking at the photos above of Uncle Ted me and some of my friends, I remember the great ‘Cracker Nights’ with all the kids and grown ups in that Lane. It was to celebrate Empire Day, Commonwealth Day, the Queen’s Birthday in that order, I think. One year stands out in my memory - we all pooled our collection of fireworks in a cardboard box near the bonfire. Somebody went too close to the box with a Sparkler, igniting the contents. In no time there were exploding double bungers, tom thumbs crackling, jumping jacks jumping, Catherine wheels spinning, volcanoes erupting, roman candles shooting out colourful balls of fire and sky rockets shooting off in every direction. People scattered and that was the grand finale to cracker night. Fortunately no one was injured.
THE SHOPPING CENTRE
From memory, it went like this:
Warman’s Grocery shop on the corner. Originally it was typical of the day, a counter, behind which were rows and rows of shelving on which were all sort of products from large tins of Arnott's biscuits, Golden Syrup, that peanut butter mentioned earlier, Vegemite, Baked Beans and many more such items. In bins below were bulk containers of flour, rice, sugar, oats and various other staples, which you could purchase by weight. It was great to ask for a bag of broken biscuits, at a discount price. Della had a cane basket, which we used to carry the items home.
Above I am playing with the Warman girls in my sandpit. That Doll was a gift from Mum’s boyfriend, Vladimir who came from Czechoslovakia. The fairies never took her away, and eventually she went to doll heaven!
The store looked something like that in above photo, but that is not Mr Warman. Later he converted the store to one of the earliest ‘Supermarkets’ with all of the pre-packaged products on stands set up in rows. There were metal baskets provided to carry your purchases as you shopped. Paper bags were provided to carry them home. Entry to the store was via a metal turnstile. It was all so very modern. Narelle Warman, and her younger sister, Susan lived there. Outside the shop was a red public telephone box. It was rare to have a telephone in the home back then. You could make a free call to the Information Service intended to advise phone numbers. We little ratbags used to ring that number and ask such silly things as “How many bolts are there on the Sydney Harbour Bridge”, or “How many clouds in the sky today?” We thought we were so funny.
Butcher. In the early days Mr Bell ran that business. His two sons, Christopher and younger brother, Greg lived there for a while, before the business changed hands. It was an old fashioned butcher shop, rather typical of the day. The concrete floor was painted red and covered in sawdust to soak up the blood and fat. There were a couple of huge wooden chopping bocks where the cuts of meat were chopped off large carcasses that hung in the nearby cool room. There was also a small area of counter space and a glass cabinet in which such delicacies as brains, tongues, livers and kidneys, not to mention minced meat and sausages were displayed. The meat was then wrapped in sheets of white butchers’ paper to carry home.
Green Grocer. Run by the Italian couple Mr and Mrs Tessitore shortened to Tess. Della often; asked for a box of bruised fruit to make fruit salad. I think it was really her way of being frugal as people had to be back then. I remember an elderly man one day reminiscing about ‘The good old days’ when you could buy a cabbage for a penny.
Milk Bar and Sweet Shop. Milk shakes, a huge variety of boiled sweets, chocolate cobblers (one of my favourites), liquorice all-sorts, all day suckers, choo choo bars, milky bars, musk sticks, green, red and chocolate frogs and many more delights were displayed in an array of jars on the shelves, or in trays below the counter in a glass display cabinet. You could also buy a baby ice cream cone for threepence, or if you were very flush a larger, single cone. In the early days only vanilla ice cream was available. There were also small waxed cardboard cups of ice cream with a wooden spoon to scoop out the contents. These were also sold at the Odeon Movie Theatre up at Concord West.
Watchmaker and Jeweller. Mr Butt ran this store. His two daughters were a little older than me and we didn’t really know each other. I remember the time I took a fancy to a little wooden Swiss house with a thermometer on the front, that was displayed in the shop window. It had sparkly white snow on the roof and scattered over a couple of little pine trees at the front. There were two doors between the thermometer. On cold days a little wooden boy swung out his door, and on hot days, a little girl popped out of hers. I cringe now to recall that I stole a couple of pound notes from Mum’s purse and negotiated with Mr Butt to lay-by that gorgeous house. The next thing I remember was my very unhappy Mum having severe words with me following a conversation Mr Butt had with her. Obviously he suspected me of foul deeds.
Delicatessen. There was a large round slicer which looked lethal. That was used to cut as ordered slices of the assortment of cold meats such as Devon, Ham, Corned Beef and Brawn. There was also a small (by today’s standards) variety of cheeses in large wheels from which wedges were cut to order. There were frankfurts but not many of the huge variety of different sausages we get now. I can’t recall Mum ever letting me have a lunch order, but some kids would hand in a paper bag with the order pencilled on front, and payment enclosed. These were delivered to the shop by a child nominated to be the ‘Lunch monitor’, a very important role of course.
Lingerie Shop. I can’t recall the proprietor’s name, however she was a very elegant woman, who had a fluffy little Pomeranian dog that had so much personality. I was fitted for my first bra there. It was such an excruciatingly embarrassing experience.
Another Greengrocer. A Chinese family, the Fongs first lived here. Their daughter, Mai Ling and I were friends until they moved. I remember her very old grandfather who lived with them. He could not speak English, but was very kind and smiled at me. Her mother invited me to lunch with them, and served us bowls of rice with chop sticks. That was so different to my gourmet experience of meat and three veg.
After the Fongs left, an Italian family, the Scardinos took over. Their four children, Joe, Roy, Phillipa and Paulie soon became part of my ‘gang’. Joe and I were in the same class together at school and I quite fancied him.
Chemist. Huge glass bulbous bottles of red, purple and green liquid were displayed in the shop front. They must have been some old fashioned symbol for apothecaries - all chemists back them seemed to have them. Medications were rarely prepackaged, the pharmacist would prepare the drugs as prescribed by the doctor, pressing them into tablets, or preparing capsules or mixing up bottles of some usually foul tasting liquid. Apart from the famous Bex powders, corn remedies and bandages etc, most of the shelves were packed with labelled bottles and boxes of the basic powders and potions required to fill the prescriptions.
Now my memory is getting confused about the order of the shops going further up the road. There was a Hardware shop, Cake shop and Bakery (where I purchased that delicious irresistible loaf of freshly baked white bread). The most mouth watering fare I can recall are the cream buns, neenish, pineapple and apple tarts, matches (jam and cream between flakey strips of crispy pastry), lamingtons, and so many more delights.
They were treats for very rare occasions. Originally the Barlow family owned that business, Their daughter, Marita was my friend. I remember being invited to their home for dinner once. Marita’s brother was practising his violin on the stairs leading up to the rooms above the shop. It was the first time that I can recall dining formally at the table with table cloth, napkins and cutlery. At home Mum used newspaper to protect the table and we never set the table or sat down together for a meal. Newspaper was also used in the place of toilet paper back then. Sheets of newspaper were torn into squares, and attached by string to a nail on the toilet door or wall. At Bullecourt the loo was outside, beside the laundry, both under the back of the house.
Later a family newly arrived from England, the Greens took over the Bakers’ Shop. I was friends with their three boys, David, Terry and Richard. I think Mum was not very fond of David in particular. He was older than us and often led us astray and up to mischief, such as pinching golf balls at the local golf links.
I remember that there was an Electrical goods store on the corner of Concord Road and Davidson Street owned by the Wilson’s. Rosemary and her little brother Phillip (Pip) lived there. The most lasting memory about the Wilson’s was in September 1956 when TV finally arrived in Australia. Mr Wilson installed a set in his shop front for all passers by to pause and watch during the limited times of broadcasting. In the evening we took boxes or stools and sat on the footpath watching the black and white images of the news, or Vera Lynn singing nostalgic songs. TV sets were very expensive and the screen so small compared to these days. My Mum refused to buy one until I was about 16! My Uncle Cliff bought one within the first few years. Uncle Ted often took me over to their place in Beatrice Street in Lidcome. For years Ted and Cliff cut each other’s hair. Once the TV arrived I loved watching Rawhide or Bonanza with my cousins.
Other shops in the next block up were a Haberdashers, Fish and Chip shop, Newsagent, Commonwealth Bank. Further up on the corner of Wellbank Street there was a Fire Station, which I think is still there. In the house opposite was our GP, Doctor Walker.
MOVING ON
Bullecourt was my home, and really my only childhood home, until the Christmas before I turned 13 in 1959. It was the end of my Primary School years and I guess Mum and or maybe just Della decided it was time to move during those school holidays and set me up for High School somewhere else. At first Mum was considering sending me to the Methodist Ladies College at Burwood. However after Della had purchased a house at 32B Albert Street in North Parramatta, I was enrolled to attend the first year of the newly opened Northmead High School. Of course none of these decisions were discussed with me and it was a huge shock when I was told that we would be moving. I had to leave the only home I knew and all my friends. My stability was totally rocked. Uncle Ted sat beside me out on Bullecourt’s front verandah as I howled and howled. I did not want to leave my friends, or Concord. But then it was not up to me. That Christmas Wendy did not drop in for her annual few days, and I was not to see her again until years later, after Mum had died and out of the blue Della gave her to me, still in her cardboard box, which was rather battered and dusty now. The crepe paper that wrapped her was brittle and yellow. Her hair moth eaten, her lovely organdie dress in tatters, but she was still Wendy.
I was married then, living in Canberra and the mother of three. Jennifer had not yet arrived, so it was before 1981 and I had not reconnected with my first born, Pamela Joy until later.
Wendy stayed in her box until after my marriage had ended, and in a fog of pain and loss, and with the amazing support of my daughter Deborah, I moved to Sydney in 1996. Wendy came with me. Whilst in Sydney, I decided to send her to the Sydney Doll’s Hospital for some care and repair. Her hair was replaced by a dark auburn wig, her cheeks given a pink glow and her lips painted red. She looks so different, but she is still Wendy, my doll.
RANDOM MEMORIES IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER
Christmas Pantomimes at the Tivoli Theatre Sydney
It was quite a tradition in the early 1950’s, to go to a Christmas Pantomime at the magnificent old sandstone Tivoli Theatre (fondly called the Tiv). Mum or Della came with me. We would catch a train from the nearby North Strathfield Station in to Central Railway Station with its eye catching clock tower.
We would then walk through the park between Eddy Avenue and Hay Street to see whatever Pantomime was on offer there. One that I can still kind of remember is “Aladdin and his Wonderful Lamp”, advertised in the Sydney Morning Herald on 22 December 1953.
I suspect many of the baudy lines that were included to keep the adults amused, went right over my head. Either prior to the show commencing, or maybe at the interval, several people dressed up as clowns, jesters, AND in particular a huge life like Chimpanzee put on a bit of a slap stick show during which the Chimp would walk down the aisles, throwing sweets into the audience. I was so terrified of that it that even the thought of a pocket full of sweets would not make me go anywhere near him/her
The Terrifying Time I Thought my Mum was Never Coming Home
My Mum was always home from school before dark. However on one particular occasion that not the case. I wasn’t concerned until it started to get dark and Mum was not home. I was not very keen on the dark back then, convinced that all sorts of evil boogey men were out there waiting to get me. So by the time the street lights came on I was believed that something terrible must have happened to my Mum. Too scared to stay in the house alone, I walked up to the corner near Warman's’ and waited as each bus pulled in at the stop across the road, hoping Mum would appear. Finally my friend Lally’ Allen’s older sister, who was working then, alighted from a bus. Upon finding me standing on the corner, in tears, she took me home to her place. Eventually Mum did get home.
I guess the Allen’s must have left a note on our front door. Mum was very embarrassed to have to pick up her abandoned waif. She said that there had been an after school staff meeting and that Ted was supposed to come home early to be there for me. Although he would have been about 24 I am guessing, typical of young people of all generations, Ted was not always very reliable, and of course he did get a severe talking to when he finally walked in.
The Devil Under the Wardrobe
Mum and I shared an old wooden framed double bed. I slept next to the lovely old lead light windows, which were decorated with stained glass. On the opposite side of the room was Mum’s two door wooden wardrobe, which had short curved legs. Lying in bed at night, in that dreadful darkness, I could imagine that a devil or boogey man of some description lived under that wardrobe. Scared witless, nothing would entice me to get out of bed in the dark. Weirdly I felt safe under the blankets.
Trash and Treasure Hunts
There was a rubbish tip beside the Parramatta River at Cabarita, which was always an exciting place to visit. In those days there were no rules preventing scavenging, and as the old saying goes ‘One Man’s Trash is Another’s Treasure’. Usually I would only go there with my Uncle Ted to dump rubbish. However, unbeknown to Mum, my friends and I considered it to be a great adventure to walk down to the tip and seek our treasure. It was really rather dangerous when I think about it now. Not only might we have cut ourselves on broken glass or rusty metal; or been exposed to goodness knows what toxins, there was also the risk of drowning in the river. It was not always obvious that some rubbish was floating on the water until it sank when stepped on.
The Night I Saw Santa
Fair Dinkum, Ridgy Didge and I swear on the bible that one Christmas Eve I did see the mighty red clad man and his reindeers on his delivery run.
It was one of those very warm barmy Sydney evenings, when the southerly buster was later than usual in blowing over us with a cool breath of air. Santa was due that night and Uncle Ted and I were lying out on the front lawn, gazing up at the starry sky. In those days there really were thousands of twinkling stars in the sky over Sydney. All of a sudden I saw the sleigh drawn by the reindeers as it passed way up above us. Uncle Ted said he could not see him, but it was probably a good idea for me to go to bed quickly so Santa could deliver my present. Oh how gullible and trusting was I.
The very prestigious Concord Links Course was just a short walk from Bullecourt. My gang and I built a cubby house out of old branches in amongst the shrubs along the corner of one of the fairways. It was a magic place, where we spent many a long hour (or so it seemed) waiting to pounce on any stray golf ball that might land near our special place. We would then sit quietly as mice, as the bewildered golfer hunted high and low for the missing ball. We were so lucky no to have been caught. We loved to cut the outer cover off those balls, and unwind the yards and yards of elastic band that was wrapped around an inner core of a small dense rubber ball filled with some red substance (probably lead!).
I remember one occasion with slight discomfort when a lady golfer entered our bushy retreat. Unaware that she was being observed, she undid her corset (really she was playing golf in a corset) dropped her nickers and relieved herself. We were mortified to have witnessed such a personal and private moment. I think it was some time before we returned to the Cubby in the Links after that.
Spotting Sputnik
On 7 October 1957 Russia started the Space Age when it launched the first man-made satellite, “Sputnik 1," into orbit around the earth. In the evening sky it was possible to spot the small dot reflecting the light of the sun as it sped across the dark sky. I felt great excitement watching it up there, however I don’t think I understood the significance of what it meant in relation to how this would challenge the balance of political stability in the world, or how world communications and technology in general would develop over the next several decades.
The first time I saw snow...
Living ‘down under’ and with Christmas Time being in the middle of summer, we still celebrated that season as if we were back in the ‘homeland’ of England. We dreamed of a ‘White Christmas’, and snow men and sleigh bells and all the other magic of that Northern winter time. To experience snow was a huge ambition.
I will never forget that winter holiday when Janelle, her younger sister Judith and I were again staying up at the Vale of Clywdd with Della. We were all tucked up under warm blankets and a heavy eiderdown in the lovely old brass double bed in my Grandfather’s old room. Della woke us up early in the morning and told us to look out the window - the whole mountainside was covered in a soft white blanket of snow. It was like fairyland to us. We were SO excited and just keen to get out there and play. It was so cold, and icy and wet but Janelle and I loved it. Down along the creek there were thick drifts of snow. We sank right up to our knees as we walked along there. Judith was not so keep about the frozen pain in her knees and numbness in her wet feet and began to cry. Unfortunately for her, Janelle and I were not in the least sympathetic, and by the time we had followed her home, she was sitting rugged up in front of the big black coal burning oven in the kitchen, sipping on hot chocolate and soaking up Della’s sympathy. We were not treated so kindly.
Thinking about the kitchen more wonderful memories crop up. It was always a cosy room when the coal oven was burning. There were big heavy black cast iron saucepans and often a huge kettle of water bubbling away. Grandad had made toasting forks fashioned out of wire. He would open up the front grate and we would stick thick slices of lovely crusty fresh bread on the end of the forks and toast them in front of the red coals. Toast never tastes so good as those did, spread thickly with butter and Vegemite, peanut butter, jam or golden syrup ... My mouth is watering at the thought of it.
I remember that it was a very special treat to be permitted to sit on Grandad’s special cane rocking chair, which was in the corner next to that oven. I can almost smell that unique coal fire smell and hear the cracking as the gasses in the coal heated up and small red cinders of coal popped out.
There was no bath room back then. A large grey tin tub would be filled up with warm water from that kettle on the oven, and particularly in the winter time, it would be placed near the fire and that is where I was bathed.
There was a white enamelled sink set in a bench along one wall of the kitchen. On the corner of the bench Grandad kept a large cream and tan bread crock pot that had been made at the local Lithgow Pottery. Those lovely loaves of bread that delivered by the local baker were stored in that and it is now one of my treasures.
From King to Queen and the subsequent ‘Royal Visit
Following the death of her father, King George VI on 6 February, 1952, his daughter, Elizabeth became our Queen. Her coronation did not take place until 2 June 1953. Apart from newspapers and the wireless set, another source of viewing the news was at the Theatre. In particular, Mum and I often went to the State Theatrette, (a small theatre attached to the magnificent old State Theatre in Sydney). The Newsreels were shown continuously and you could pop in at any time to watch the latest black and white MovieTone News. That is where I saw the highlights of the Coronation of Queen Elizabeth. I thought she was magnificent and so regal sitting on the throne, wearing the crown, and dressed in the most breathtaking gown and long train flowing behind her. She was the perfect image of how I had imagined a queen should look.
In 1954 Queen Elizabeth and Prince Phillip visited Australia. Robert Menzies, a strong Royalist was our Prime Minister. At eight years old I held fairytale views of Queens, and Princesses - they fitted with my dreams of fairies and magical powers. The City of Sydney was decorated with flags, banners, lights and arches with crowns, and other colourful decorations. I remember that Mum and I travelled in to Sydney to enjoy the magic of it all.
As part of her itinerary, the Queen was scheduled to drive past throngs of school children lined up in various ovals around the country. Along with my school mates, we were bussed to the local Concord Oval, where we joined thousands of others waiting for a glimpse or our new monarch. Finally the cavalcade entered the oval, to a roar of excited voices rising to fever pitch. Suddenly this very ordinary looking woman, standing up in the back of a Land Rover, drove past me, waving. I was SO disappointed — no crown, no magnificent gown, no fairy princess magic about her at all!! My faith in royalty was shattered.
There are so many more memories but...
Thinking about Wendy and looking back in time to my early memories, so many happy times come to mind. For now, I am going to give Wendy into the care of my darling daughter Deborah, in the hope that these and other memories live on with her.
PS I gave Wendy to Deborah on Christmas Day 2020. The look of delight and pleasure on her face when she saw the Doll was all that I could have hoped for. Now Wendy is ‘out of the cupboard’ and as Deb says: “Living the life”.
Susan Austin/Gardiner/Aldridge