AuzeeSheila
New member
I'm still alive but not quite kicking. I seem to have some residual effects from a car accident in '05 which are starting to cause some bother, although it could have been much worse at the time. I can't seem to sit at this keyboard as long as I once did and when I do, I try to write family stories for my children/grandchildren, so there is a written history, with facts, not just some 'Chinese whispers' about my kin and life as I knew it when I was growing up.
Anyway, some of the things going on down here at the moment are:- A man taken by a crocodile while fishing at a creek near Townsville, body not found yet. A fire-fighter bashed by louts when he went to the aid of one of them, who had been hit by a car, near his house in Cairns. What's the world coming to? We are watching your corner of the world too, of course, to see what happens with the 'rescue package' and now (9pm Thurs) it seems that it is likely to be approved by your Congress today, your time. I think the whole world is entitled to a collective migraine at the moment, with all this worry!
Dan's tale about the Home-made biscuits reminded me of my Grandmother, now gone nearly thirty years.
I was born in England in 1947 and as I grew up, this tiny lady with an Irish brogue would visit and greet me with "Hello darling," as she arrived and thus, became known to all and sundry, from that time on as, 'Darling.' We (Dad, Mum, younger brother and myself) emigrated to Australia in 1950, leaving Darling in England, which was very hard on my mother. Until1956, when Darling, 59, emigrated here to look after my brothers and myself while Mum worked. My father had gone 'walkabout,' without us, by that time and it was hard for my mother to work as a shift-working nurse and also to find people to care for her children at different hours of the night and day. I was left in charge at one stage, at the age of nine, and had no hope of controlling my brothers. Various female 'friends of friends,' who tried to help Mum by living with us, didn't work out so Darling gave up her life in England to help us out. By the time she got here, my brothers and I were one step removed from savages. If you can imagine the Queen coming to live at your house, you might be close to the difference between her ideas on living and what ours (three kids) were at that time. Boy, did we get a shock!
From that day on my mother became the breadwinner and my Grandmother became the LAW. I can only imagine now, what she went through, during those early days, as she slowly succeeded in turning us into civilized human beings. Our house was run by the Sergeant Major who taught all Sergeant Majors, probably because she had been the Matron at a private boarding school in Wales at one time. Once we learnt her 'rules' the house ran like a well-oiled clock. That little lady, who was all of five feet two in her stockinged feet and weighed six stone, dripping wet, scared the be-jeebers out of we three brats and most of the neighbourhood kids too, including some of their parents. I don't know whether it was the Irish accent, which most people couldn't understand on a good day, or her attitude, that commanded respect but, after a few short weeks, every man, woman and child we met would suddenly be on their best behaviour and stop to wish Darling a good-day as we passed by. Of course, this meant that now my brothers and I would have to be on our best behaviour at all times, lest we were reported to Darling and punished accordingly. Punishment was usually shelling peas for tea that night, which meant sitting on the back steps for hours with a huge bag of pods and ending up with one cup-full of peas for five people. You do remember how sweet freshly podded peas used to taste? If Darling was really angry at us, she would hand us over to our mother who would make us sit beside her to read a whole chapter (or two) of the Bible aloud.
As we got older and became aware of how supercilious her name sounded in public, we tried very hard not to say it at all! We would cringe when we went into the butcher shop and the big brawny fellow would say, "Hello Darling, how are you today?" Butchers here were a cheeky species of men, known to flirt outrageously with the ladies. You could hear the bones in the necks of the other female customers creaking, as they turned to stare at my grandmother, to see who was being spoken to in this familiar way. People in Australia, especially the men-folk, just did NOT use such terms of endearment in public.
There was also the word 'ass,' as in Donkey. This term was a major embarrassment when used to describe some behaviour or stupidity of which one of us was guilty. When my grandmother used the word with her Irish accent, it came out as 'arse,' or in her words, 'you silly arse.' Sometimes it was meant lovingly, as when we told her a childish joke, maybe a slightly rude one, and she didn't want to laugh aloud and thereby encourage us to more brashness. At other times, she would be frustrated at our childish innocence in not understanding what we had been told to do or how to do it. Then there were the times at the shops or on the bus when she used the term and everyone would turn to see what sort of person was using such foul language. They would also look at we three children and we would all turn bright red and try to look as if we didn't know the old lady.
Oh, I almost forgot, did I mention that she was a great cook too? No? Well, yes, she was . . and boy we three kids really appreciated that. You see, it was strange at the time, but my mother just could not cook! After a lifetime of my mothers cooking, Darling was like an angel from heaven. One day when I was nine, I came home from school to a note from Mum telling me to turn on the gas under the pressure cooker at 4pm and at 5pm to turn it off. Well, I did that but, apparently, my mother had forgotten to put any water/liquid in with the meat and vegs. As I was used to odd smells coming from the kitchen, I didn't question the smell that was filling the whole house. When, after following the written instructions, I eventually got the lid off, there was a black mess that even the dog turned his nose up at. Another time, Mum left a nice baked rice pudding for our desert but, when we tried to eat, it we all gagged and coughed and spat it out as she had sprinkled pepper all over it instead of nutmeg. This trait seems to have missed me and has been passed along the line to my daughter, who seems to have the same type of deficit in her gene pool. She once added two tablespoons of salt to a pie she cooked without supervision.
Along with a deep respect, we also loved Darling for her big heart. She wasn't a healthy lady and for her to spend four weeks on a ship to come out to this hot, brown land to stay with us and do a job many grandparents of today would balk at, fills me with a gratitude that can never be repaid. Darling taught us manners, courtesy and respect, above what was needed in those days and for that I thank her every time I see my own children in a social situation. Hopefully, these attributes will be passed down to my grandchildren along with the abiding love that Darling showed us all.
Sheila.
Anyway, some of the things going on down here at the moment are:- A man taken by a crocodile while fishing at a creek near Townsville, body not found yet. A fire-fighter bashed by louts when he went to the aid of one of them, who had been hit by a car, near his house in Cairns. What's the world coming to? We are watching your corner of the world too, of course, to see what happens with the 'rescue package' and now (9pm Thurs) it seems that it is likely to be approved by your Congress today, your time. I think the whole world is entitled to a collective migraine at the moment, with all this worry!
Dan's tale about the Home-made biscuits reminded me of my Grandmother, now gone nearly thirty years.
I was born in England in 1947 and as I grew up, this tiny lady with an Irish brogue would visit and greet me with "Hello darling," as she arrived and thus, became known to all and sundry, from that time on as, 'Darling.' We (Dad, Mum, younger brother and myself) emigrated to Australia in 1950, leaving Darling in England, which was very hard on my mother. Until1956, when Darling, 59, emigrated here to look after my brothers and myself while Mum worked. My father had gone 'walkabout,' without us, by that time and it was hard for my mother to work as a shift-working nurse and also to find people to care for her children at different hours of the night and day. I was left in charge at one stage, at the age of nine, and had no hope of controlling my brothers. Various female 'friends of friends,' who tried to help Mum by living with us, didn't work out so Darling gave up her life in England to help us out. By the time she got here, my brothers and I were one step removed from savages. If you can imagine the Queen coming to live at your house, you might be close to the difference between her ideas on living and what ours (three kids) were at that time. Boy, did we get a shock!
From that day on my mother became the breadwinner and my Grandmother became the LAW. I can only imagine now, what she went through, during those early days, as she slowly succeeded in turning us into civilized human beings. Our house was run by the Sergeant Major who taught all Sergeant Majors, probably because she had been the Matron at a private boarding school in Wales at one time. Once we learnt her 'rules' the house ran like a well-oiled clock. That little lady, who was all of five feet two in her stockinged feet and weighed six stone, dripping wet, scared the be-jeebers out of we three brats and most of the neighbourhood kids too, including some of their parents. I don't know whether it was the Irish accent, which most people couldn't understand on a good day, or her attitude, that commanded respect but, after a few short weeks, every man, woman and child we met would suddenly be on their best behaviour and stop to wish Darling a good-day as we passed by. Of course, this meant that now my brothers and I would have to be on our best behaviour at all times, lest we were reported to Darling and punished accordingly. Punishment was usually shelling peas for tea that night, which meant sitting on the back steps for hours with a huge bag of pods and ending up with one cup-full of peas for five people. You do remember how sweet freshly podded peas used to taste? If Darling was really angry at us, she would hand us over to our mother who would make us sit beside her to read a whole chapter (or two) of the Bible aloud.
As we got older and became aware of how supercilious her name sounded in public, we tried very hard not to say it at all! We would cringe when we went into the butcher shop and the big brawny fellow would say, "Hello Darling, how are you today?" Butchers here were a cheeky species of men, known to flirt outrageously with the ladies. You could hear the bones in the necks of the other female customers creaking, as they turned to stare at my grandmother, to see who was being spoken to in this familiar way. People in Australia, especially the men-folk, just did NOT use such terms of endearment in public.
There was also the word 'ass,' as in Donkey. This term was a major embarrassment when used to describe some behaviour or stupidity of which one of us was guilty. When my grandmother used the word with her Irish accent, it came out as 'arse,' or in her words, 'you silly arse.' Sometimes it was meant lovingly, as when we told her a childish joke, maybe a slightly rude one, and she didn't want to laugh aloud and thereby encourage us to more brashness. At other times, she would be frustrated at our childish innocence in not understanding what we had been told to do or how to do it. Then there were the times at the shops or on the bus when she used the term and everyone would turn to see what sort of person was using such foul language. They would also look at we three children and we would all turn bright red and try to look as if we didn't know the old lady.
Oh, I almost forgot, did I mention that she was a great cook too? No? Well, yes, she was . . and boy we three kids really appreciated that. You see, it was strange at the time, but my mother just could not cook! After a lifetime of my mothers cooking, Darling was like an angel from heaven. One day when I was nine, I came home from school to a note from Mum telling me to turn on the gas under the pressure cooker at 4pm and at 5pm to turn it off. Well, I did that but, apparently, my mother had forgotten to put any water/liquid in with the meat and vegs. As I was used to odd smells coming from the kitchen, I didn't question the smell that was filling the whole house. When, after following the written instructions, I eventually got the lid off, there was a black mess that even the dog turned his nose up at. Another time, Mum left a nice baked rice pudding for our desert but, when we tried to eat, it we all gagged and coughed and spat it out as she had sprinkled pepper all over it instead of nutmeg. This trait seems to have missed me and has been passed along the line to my daughter, who seems to have the same type of deficit in her gene pool. She once added two tablespoons of salt to a pie she cooked without supervision.
Along with a deep respect, we also loved Darling for her big heart. She wasn't a healthy lady and for her to spend four weeks on a ship to come out to this hot, brown land to stay with us and do a job many grandparents of today would balk at, fills me with a gratitude that can never be repaid. Darling taught us manners, courtesy and respect, above what was needed in those days and for that I thank her every time I see my own children in a social situation. Hopefully, these attributes will be passed down to my grandchildren along with the abiding love that Darling showed us all.
Sheila.
