Up In Annies Room 3
Without Prejudice
My Dad when I was born x
My Mother with baby number 5, the 1st Australian born x
We were to spend two years in the Hostel, the weather at times unbearable but as stiff upper lipped little British kids we just soldiered on. Andrew born in Adelaide was a delight of a baby and we all mothered him. He was born right on the two year time frame set down for us, we Ten Pound Poms. God knows what my parents thought of this new land then. I remember thay talked a lot of the War, World War 11.
Gathered in their bed on Sunday mornings we heard tales of Dunkirk, where ordinary men and women took off in boats to bring our Soldiers home. Churchills speeeches of we will fight them on the beaches, fight them in our very back yards with broom sticks if we had to, were imprinted into our memories. We all thrilled to the speeches and the bravery of our Mum and Dad to have served in the War.
No mention was made of Mums terrible experiences or her ongoing Post Traumatic Stress. Sometimes she would just disappear into thin air, sometimes to Hospital, sometimes
to the races, sometimes as she grew older to places far away where we had lived before. Sometimes she would simply disappear into herself, and take to her bed, citing a migraine. Dad took care of us then or we took care of ourselves.
My Father adored her and was with her to the end. He wasnt the most faithful of men, but he loved his wife unconditionally. She could be violent in her mood swings but we knew it was just her. Our "highly strung" Mother. I thought of her as the ultimate Mother. She was not a cuddle or kiss type of Mother. She ruled with an iron will and we followed suit. She could be high minded, exacting and expected the absolute best from us. Nothing less would do.
I remember the train ride from the Hostel to Port Augusta as unending, hot, boring and long. There was a little water cooler with tiny paper cups we were fascinated by and kept making trips back and forth through the carraige to fetch more and more of them until we were ticked off by the ticket man. Other passengers were complaining he said and my Mother flew into a rage. She told him off with a spray of words, loudly, and he went away.
We stopped our insistent water drinking after that and sat upright and behaved ourselves. It was usually Lachlan and I, Heather would sit mute with her hands folded and lips pursed. She was Mums constant companion and was neat with thick braids of hair . All my childhood life I heard how Heather had cleaned the entire Nissen Hut while I was rough housing outside with the boys, my brothers, naturally.
We were very protected children, Mum was not a friend maker preferring the company of her husband and kids, only. Dad was a Mason and went out once a Month to his meeting but they were also secret.
Secrets became a part of our lives as much as breathing. We never told strangers any of our business and learned at the knee of our Father that certain things were not to be spoken of. Its delicious to have secrets, things that you can never tell. We learned to answer the door with aplomb, well I didnt as I was crippinfgly shy but my siblings could do it with Aplomb. No Ernie Campbell lived here they would answer as Dad stayed silent behind the curtains in the lounge room or bedroom.
It could be a debt collector and usually was and the threat was that Dad could go to jail. My Mother never answered the doors it was always one of my siblings and they grew very good at it and I never did. I hated telling lies and shook if the "Men" came. It for me had started in the Hostel when a friend, a fellow Brit would call around. He worshipped me and wanted to be kind and friendly but no matter how he tried to be friend me I stayed resoltely behind my Mothers skirts, hiding. I was terrified, literally terrified of him and I have no idea why.
He was tall, dark haired and must have been about thirty, single, and wanted only to befriend me, the shy blonde little two year old but I would tremble and cry until he left. My parents were shocked at my behaviour but I would not give in and hated him with a passion. It made for some uncomfortable times for my parents, my shyness, but I literally didnt care. I was not coming out while that Man was in the hut.
I saw photos once of us all at Andrews christening, Mum in her 3 piece suit or costume as they called them then, a froth of black net on her head. I saw myself lined up with the rest of the Family, a tow headed little girl in a drooping over sized dress on my scrawny frame, head tilted to one side as I squinted into the camera. I wasnt to know at that age that I was going to be short sighted like My Father, and would always have to tilt my head, squinting with my left eye which turned out to be the worst sighted of my eyes.
To me, all the rest of my Family looked normal and I didnt. A fact compounded by Heather who was always neat and beautifully turned out. I looked like I had been dragged through a hedge backwards and usually had, preferring rough housing with my brothers than being a prim and proper little Miss.
My Mother with baby number 5, the 1st Australian born x
We were to spend two years in the Hostel, the weather at times unbearable but as stiff upper lipped little British kids we just soldiered on. Andrew born in Adelaide was a delight of a baby and we all mothered him. He was born right on the two year time frame set down for us, we Ten Pound Poms. God knows what my parents thought of this new land then. I remember thay talked a lot of the War, World War 11.
Gathered in their bed on Sunday mornings we heard tales of Dunkirk, where ordinary men and women took off in boats to bring our Soldiers home. Churchills speeeches of we will fight them on the beaches, fight them in our very back yards with broom sticks if we had to, were imprinted into our memories. We all thrilled to the speeches and the bravery of our Mum and Dad to have served in the War.
British propaganda later exploited the successful evacuation of Dunkirk in 1940, and particularly the role of the "Dunkirk little ships", very effectively. Many of the "little ships" were private vessels such as fishing boats and pleasure cruisers, but commercial vessels such as ferries also contributed to the force, including a number from as far away as the Isle Of Man and Glasgow.
These smaller vessels—guided by naval craft across the Channel from the Thames Estuary and from Dover—assisted in the official evacuation. Being able to reach much closer in the beachfront shallows than larger craft, the "little ships" acted as shuttles to and from the larger craft, lifting troops who were queuing in the water, many waiting shoulder-deep in water for hours. The term "Dunkirk Spirit" still refers to a popular belief in the solidarity of the British people in times of adversity.
These smaller vessels—guided by naval craft across the Channel from the Thames Estuary and from Dover—assisted in the official evacuation. Being able to reach much closer in the beachfront shallows than larger craft, the "little ships" acted as shuttles to and from the larger craft, lifting troops who were queuing in the water, many waiting shoulder-deep in water for hours. The term "Dunkirk Spirit" still refers to a popular belief in the solidarity of the British people in times of adversity.
No mention was made of Mums terrible experiences or her ongoing Post Traumatic Stress. Sometimes she would just disappear into thin air, sometimes to Hospital, sometimes
to the races, sometimes as she grew older to places far away where we had lived before. Sometimes she would simply disappear into herself, and take to her bed, citing a migraine. Dad took care of us then or we took care of ourselves.
My Father adored her and was with her to the end. He wasnt the most faithful of men, but he loved his wife unconditionally. She could be violent in her mood swings but we knew it was just her. Our "highly strung" Mother. I thought of her as the ultimate Mother. She was not a cuddle or kiss type of Mother. She ruled with an iron will and we followed suit. She could be high minded, exacting and expected the absolute best from us. Nothing less would do.
I remember the train ride from the Hostel to Port Augusta as unending, hot, boring and long. There was a little water cooler with tiny paper cups we were fascinated by and kept making trips back and forth through the carraige to fetch more and more of them until we were ticked off by the ticket man. Other passengers were complaining he said and my Mother flew into a rage. She told him off with a spray of words, loudly, and he went away.
We stopped our insistent water drinking after that and sat upright and behaved ourselves. It was usually Lachlan and I, Heather would sit mute with her hands folded and lips pursed. She was Mums constant companion and was neat with thick braids of hair . All my childhood life I heard how Heather had cleaned the entire Nissen Hut while I was rough housing outside with the boys, my brothers, naturally.
We were very protected children, Mum was not a friend maker preferring the company of her husband and kids, only. Dad was a Mason and went out once a Month to his meeting but they were also secret.
Secrets became a part of our lives as much as breathing. We never told strangers any of our business and learned at the knee of our Father that certain things were not to be spoken of. Its delicious to have secrets, things that you can never tell. We learned to answer the door with aplomb, well I didnt as I was crippinfgly shy but my siblings could do it with Aplomb. No Ernie Campbell lived here they would answer as Dad stayed silent behind the curtains in the lounge room or bedroom.
It could be a debt collector and usually was and the threat was that Dad could go to jail. My Mother never answered the doors it was always one of my siblings and they grew very good at it and I never did. I hated telling lies and shook if the "Men" came. It for me had started in the Hostel when a friend, a fellow Brit would call around. He worshipped me and wanted to be kind and friendly but no matter how he tried to be friend me I stayed resoltely behind my Mothers skirts, hiding. I was terrified, literally terrified of him and I have no idea why.
He was tall, dark haired and must have been about thirty, single, and wanted only to befriend me, the shy blonde little two year old but I would tremble and cry until he left. My parents were shocked at my behaviour but I would not give in and hated him with a passion. It made for some uncomfortable times for my parents, my shyness, but I literally didnt care. I was not coming out while that Man was in the hut.
I saw photos once of us all at Andrews christening, Mum in her 3 piece suit or costume as they called them then, a froth of black net on her head. I saw myself lined up with the rest of the Family, a tow headed little girl in a drooping over sized dress on my scrawny frame, head tilted to one side as I squinted into the camera. I wasnt to know at that age that I was going to be short sighted like My Father, and would always have to tilt my head, squinting with my left eye which turned out to be the worst sighted of my eyes.
To me, all the rest of my Family looked normal and I didnt. A fact compounded by Heather who was always neat and beautifully turned out. I looked like I had been dragged through a hedge backwards and usually had, preferring rough housing with my brothers than being a prim and proper little Miss.
