 
This series of Books.

Eunice (1940-1960)

Emergence of Eunice (1960-1990)

Eunice Emerged (1990-2020)

Autobiographies written, edited and published by

Eunice Neale

All in her own words written specifically for her descendants.

EMERGENCE

of

EUNICE

20th Century

Book 2

Autobiography

by

Eunice Neale

(formerly Hoad nee Freeman)

## Table of Contents

The Sixties

Chapter 1 Bill

Chapter 2 My Own Home

Chapter 3 My Social Life

Chapter 4 Bill's Family

Chapter 5 Elation

Chapter 6 The Wedding

Chapter 7 Married Life

Chapter 8 William MARK Hoad

Chapter 9 Le-Anne Karen Hoad

Chapter 10 Shane Antony Hoad

Chapter 11 Building a Family Future

The Seventies

Chapter 12 Life at Hectorville

Chapter 13 My Babies Grow

Chapter 14 Our Social Life

Chapter 15 The Bubble Bursts

Chapter 16 The Beach House

Chapter 17 Maslin Beach

Chapter 18 Moving Forward

Chapter 19 Squash

Chapter 20 Hoad Woodcarving Academy

Chapter 21 Councillor Hoad

Chapter 22 My Teenagers

Chapter 23 Discovering Eunice

Chapter 24 Mayhem

The Eighties

Chapter 25 Mayhem Restored

Chapter 26 Busy...Busy...Busy...

Chapter 27 My Hobbies and THE Wedding

Chapter 28 Ballarat

Chapter 29 Bliss and Blomb

Chapter 30 The Separation

Chapter 31 Aunty Ethel

Chapter 32 Single Again

Chapter 33 Alana Lee

Chapter 34 John

Afterword

Dedicated to my grandchildren

and their descendants.

This my second book covers the 60, 70 and 80's decades of the 1900's in the 20th century.

The era of the swinging sixties, woman's liberation, man walking on the moon and the beginning of sex equality.

Of life prior to the millennium and the high-tech electronic age.

I an innocent country girl moving to the 'Big City' had many lessons to learn.

I learned them through the 'Hard School of Knocks.'

All names are real unless otherwise stated.

Edited and published by me, in my own words... so apologies!

Book cover is me at 21 and 40.

# The Sixties

## 1960-69

# Chapter 1

## Bill

Bill when I met him aged 23

The lights came on, everyone wished everyone HAPPY NEW YEAR.

Bill asked if he could drive me home. "Yes Please!" I couldn't believe how this night was panning out for me, so many co-incidences working in my favour. This sort of stuff never happened to the likes of me. I decided it was because I had been to church be it spasmodically; I was being rewarded. I must continue going to church I thought.

Bill drove me to auntie's place. We sat outside her house and talked in his near new green FJ Holden ute. I was impressed he had such a nice car even though I felt a little guilty parked out the front of auntie's in a strange car obviously with a strange guy so late at night, but it seemed more right than wrong at the time. I thought when I explained the situation tomorrow... oops today... my very proper rellies would understand.

The more we talked the more I thought Bill was just the sort of guy my parents and family would approve of. He didn't drink alcohol he was a Methodist he was a member of Maughan Methodist Church attending regularly, he had a good trade and job, he was a qualified cabinet maker.

Yes, I knew my family would forgive me being up so late with a strange guy when they met him. I knew they would like him even though he smoked cigarettes, as I did, as everyone did, never mind they need not know he smoked. My parents didn't know I smoked, well I never smoked in front of them though I knew mum must have known, she being a self-confessed 'private detective' and her sense of smell being so acute; but she never ever said anything to me, even so her threats were always with me **"be sure your sins will find you out."**

Bill and I talked and talked, I learned: -

He had started his working days as a mechanic but changed to cabinetmaking and did his apprenticeship with Hart and Creer a prominent caravan manufacturer in Adelaide. He now worked at Angorichina Workshops in Morphett Street. Angorichina was an institution near Parachilna in an isolated area in the northern region of the Flinders Ranges South Australia, established to provide isolation and care for soldiers who had contacted Tuberculosis during the war.

The cabinet making workshops in Morphett Street provided work for the TB survivors with the profits financing the institution in the Flinders Ranges. TB had been eradicated by this time and there were no TB patients, but the workshop continued as did the organisation now consisting of Bill, the foreman also a cabinet maker and a French polisher. A lady ran the office with an iron rod, she was the big boss ably supported by a genteel elderly female secretary.

"What a wonderful guy." I thought, working for such a worthy cause, who as it happened lived at Torrensville not far from Richmond where I lived.

Bill was an only child, his dad had been a rabbit trapper living mostly alone in the bush where the rabbits were plentiful, he died of a heart attack when Bill was four years old so Bill had only scant memories of his dad, his mother worked long hours to support herself and Bill who after school spent many lonely hours sitting on the footpath waiting for his mum to arrive home.

It was only under extremely rare circumstances in those days that children were brought up in a single parent home resulting in Bill feeling deprived, different and lonely. It was obvious he loved his mum, and obvious she doted on him, she did everything for him and he spoke very fondly of her; she was the most important person in his life, and foremost in his thoughts.

When Bill was twelve his mother married Charlie Gourlay. Bill was so excited to be gaining a stepdad, sadly this excitement dwindled as the relationship between him and Charlie waned, by the time I met Bill, he and Charlie weren't talking to each other. I couldn't believe you could live with someone and not talk to them; all communications were through his mum. What a terrible position that must have put his mum in, I couldn't imagine it.

I was dying with curiosity "Are you related to Lew Hoad?"

"First cousin" Bill answered with a grin.

"Are you really?"

"Well no! But I could be about a fifth cousin."

Oh wow! Fancy me being associated with a relative of such a famous tennis player.

Lew Hoad at that time was in the prime of his career, the number one tennis player in the world, an Aussie hero.

At 1.30am though I didn't want to, I felt I should go inside. Bill promised to phone me soon; we shared a lingering kiss before I guiltily sneaked inside and crept into bed.

Next morning I was dreading facing aunty; she seemed not a bit concerned only excited for me, as did the rest of the family when I told them about Bill.

Dorothy said, "You should have asked him to join us at the picnic today."

"I wanted to, but I didn't think it would be appropriate asking a stranger to join us for our family picnic."

I was sorry I hadn't asked Bill to join us, especially when he later told me he was hanging out for an invite. I couldn't believe how bright and lively I felt that first day of the sixties after such a late night and so little sleep. I was on a high. I couldn't wait to see Bill again.

A few days later he rang.

"Would you like to go for a drive on Saturday next week?"

"Yes, that would be nice."

"I'll pick you up at 6pm."

I could hardly contain myself; I was so excited.

I was ready and waiting at 5.30pm.

6pm came... 6.30 came...7pm...7.30...

By 8pm I was in despair. Jan and Joan were even sympathetic towards me.

At 8.30pm I had given up waiting. I had been 'stood up'.

Sadly I prepared for bed, I was devastated!

Wait! A knock on the front door...

it was Bill. I was so relieved.

"What ever happened? I was so worried."

"I unexpectedly ran into an old mate and the time just slipped away. I am sorry. It's a bit late now shall we make another date for Sunday afternoon next week?"

We did. I forgave him for standing me up on our first date. I was just grateful he showed up eventually.

Sunday the next week was a very hot day, as fat as I felt (eleven and a half stone (73kls)) I had my bathers on and beach gear packed ready; where else do you go on a Sunday afternoon when it's 100deg Fahrenheit and no air-conditioned homes, but to the beach? Bill ignored my beach attire, I realised then he wasn't a beach person, good he wouldn't see my fat body.

We spent the afternoon driving around sightseeing and looking at new subdivisions and land for sale. What an enterprising guy I thought.

Bill sounded a very busy person I felt privileged he spent any time with me. We didn't go out regularly in fact very spasmodically, I longed for him to ring more often than he did. I had never met a boy like him.

I enjoyed sitting as near as possible to Bill with his left arm around me, showing him my driving skills as I expertly changed the gears and steered the car as he drove and gave the required hand signals with his right hand out the window. Remember this was the days before automatic transmissions, indicator lights, bucket seats, seat belts or GPS's.

Bill was a good and careful driver. I thought we made a good team whilst driving along sharing the manual driving skills required. We managed without a problem and Bill was able to keep his arm securely around my shoulder as I cuddled as close as possible, so romantic. I was proud to be driven around this way with a boyfriend.

WOW! I had a boyfriend... and I knew my family would approve of Bill, he was a sober minded serious boy so unlike the boys at Penong I grew up with.

I didn't care what we did on our 'dates', I was happy to just be with Bill, a passenger in his ute cuddled close to him as he drove, he didn't talk much but I learned he was quite religious and very philosophical. One of his favourite quotes was "You reap what you sew."

Wow I thought, he must be planning on a good harvest, he 'sews' all the right things, he is a good caring person.

I thought he was ever so sophisticated knowledgeable and worldly especially as most of our time together he spent looking at properties or in car yards, though I couldn't understand his interest in car yards, when we needed a new car we just ordered one from Freeman Motors. I thought it strange looking at old cars lined up in car yards.

Jan and Joan decided they wanted to use my bedroom for a new business venture they were planning. Child minding! They moved me into a smaller room which was cramped and smelly from the dogs. I thought they were strange starting this new project of child minding hoping to supplement their Army incomes. Their services included pickup and drop off, of small children.

I couldn't imagine these two women running a childminding centre, neither had children besides I thought they didn't have the right temperament to look after children. The house was not at all suitable; if any parent came to their small three-bedroom prefab trust home I am sure they would never have allowed their children to enter it. Dogs running all over the house and yard didn't enhance the property one bit. I was beginning to wish I lived somewhere else.

I decided to put a little ad in the paper seeking more suitable accommodation. My Lambretta scooter was invaluable; now independently mobile I looked for new accommodation. I could pursue options. I need not take the first property I looked at because it was the easy option. I now knew I wanted to live alone, even though I would be lonely and wouldn't like it I preferred to be completely independent.

I looked at quite a few flats suitable for one but none seemed suitable, they just didn't feel right then... I found a small furnished flat in the back of a nice home in Goodwood owned and lived in by an elderly English widowed lady, Mrs. Coates who had difficulty walking. I don't know how she managed to look after herself; well she couldn't. I think she was looking for a tenant who was willing to help her.

The flat was predominantly an enclosed back veranda converted to a kitchen of sorts, with a small bedroom between the kitchen and the only bathroom in the house. The bathroom was shared between the main house and the flat separated by a swinging door depicting who was using the bathroom. Mrs. Coates assured me she only used the bathroom once a day mid-morning well after I left for work. The laundry and toilet were the opposite end of the veranda from my kitchen and also shared. My 'kitchen' consisted of an old wooden table, three chairs, an old kitchen cabinet with lead light doors, along the end wall an open rough cupboard served as a work bench with a quaint little one burner stove, most inefficient. A tin basin stored under the bench served as a sink while the water was carried from the laundry in buckets. The house kitchen was not too far away where I was allowed some fridge space if needed. The bedroom had a wobbly single bed with the lumpiest stuffed mattress, an old wooden single door wardrobe and matching dressing table completed the décor of this drab abode.

I immediately fell in love with this little unassuming flat. It was in a nice house in a nice street, not too far from the city and very affordable. It provided me privacy but with the companionship of Mrs. Coates living under the same roof. It was much cheaper than any other flats advertised therefore many applied. I was deflated when Mrs. Coates told me I was one of many wanting the flat.

I knew she would appreciate assistance; I immediately went into charm-begging mode promising I would help her. She didn't budge. She said she would ring me with her decision. I said a quick little prayer. "I know I am meant to have this flat; I would also enjoy helping you. I will wait for your call."

A few days later I got the call I had been praying for. "Do you still want this flat?"

"Yes please."

"OK! I have decided you can have it. When would you like to move in?"

# 

# Chapter 2

## My Own Home

I gave Jan and Joan notice, they seemed most put out though I think they were grateful to have my room free for their use. I knew they would certainly miss my rent as money always seemed to be an issue with them. I asked Bill if he would help me move my belongings, I never had much but it was too much to load onto my scooter. All my belongings easily fitted into the back of his ute.

I settled into my new abode, as humble as it was, I loved it. Mrs. Coates was ridiculously particular and set in her ways and expected certain duties to be done just so, she expected me to conform to her standards. I did. It was easy, easier than conforming to my parent's standards.

She didn't approve of smoking cigarettes, smoke badly affected her weak chest. I never smoked in my flat I didn't want to upset her. I never let anyone else smoke in the flat either. I didn't crave for cigarettes I only smoked them instead of overeating. I didn't look to overeat in the flat. I was content.

Most nights Mrs. Coates invited me to eat dinner with her at her kitchen table. We each cooked our own meal in our own kitchen, I washed our dishes. After dinner she usually invited me into her lounge to watch TV. Yes, a bonus, a TV set in the house. There were now two television channels showing in Adelaide, seven and two. Mrs. Coates watched her favourite shows; I didn't care what I watched if it was TV. I appreciated company at night, I know she did too.

Mrs. Coates and I got on very well, she was my confidante, we talked lots, she was judgmental with very fixed opinions but I respected her opinions, if I disagreed I kept quiet about it, I didn't want to upset our relationship.

Mrs. Coates had a son and a daughter, they, with their families lived in suburbs of Adelaide, she continually complained because they didn't regularly visit her. I thought "no wonder they don't visit, she continually nagged about their absences. I thought they visited often enough, but it was never enough for Mrs. Coates and she didn't miss a chance to tell them.

I wrote home and asked for the contents of my 'Glory Box'. I may as well use the few things I had gathered together when engaged to Ted. Although the flat was 'self-contained' it only provided a few very basic items which were old and chipped.

Mum and dad brought the contents of my 'Glory Box' and my sewing machine to Adelaide. I guess they wanted to check out my new abode and the landlady as well. Mum was not impressed, she screwed up her nose and said "It needs a coat of paint inside; tell Mrs. Coates I'll paint it for her."

I did. "Who will buy the paint?" she quipped.

It never got to be painted.

I was so pleased to have the contents of my 'Glory Box'. I enjoyed unpacking and washing the new linen, crockery, cutlery and kitchen gadgets, and using them. I especially enjoyed having my sewing machine at the ready. I did a lot of sewing, mainly for myself as I had grown out of most of my clothes having put on three stone in weight since moving to Adelaide.

Margaret in the debutant gown I made her.

A girlfriend Margaret Miller from home wrote and asked if I could make her debutante gown. There were enough sixteen-year-old girls in Penong to stage another debutant ball. My reputation for drafting and sewing had followed me. Yes! I now had my sewing machine and my own little flat, I would enjoy making Margaret's gown; she had the standard figure of all the girls that age, so I was confident of drafting and making it without a fitting. She sent me the measurements I specified and a picture of a lovely crinoline style gown with frills and laces over a long full hooped skirt.

I lovingly made it, looking forward each night to work on it. It was such a pleasure to be creating gowns in my own little flat. I felt complete. Finally, the gown was finished I posted it to Margaret hoping it would fit. It did. She sent me a photo of her on the night she looked stunning. I was so proud. I showed the photo to my work mates I'm sure they thought I was pulling their leg. I found it hard to convince them I had drafted and made this gown, I didn't care what they thought, I knew.

I loved my little flat it was close to everything, the beach a half hour scooter ride to the west; work a five-minute scooter ride long King William Road to the north; and Aunty Ruby, Aunty May cousin Dawn and Gordon all lived in nearby Toorak Gardens to the east.

Walking to work

I had become competent on my scooter and now tore as fast as the traffic allowed down the centre line of the road, dodging in and out passing all traffic as I went. Driving to work I learned if I caught the first set of lights as they turned green at South Terrace, I was able to reach my parking spot just north of North Terrace in five minutes without having to stop for any traffic lights. At peak hour there were police directing the traffic at selected intersections who got to recognise and always acknowledge me. I felt quite important.

It was easy to find a park for my scooter I could squeeze it in the tiniest space, sometimes if I parked too close to parked cars, it had been pulled aside when I returned. I tried to give cars enough room to maneuver around my scooter: there was no power steering back then they probably needed more room to maneuver than I sometimes gave them.

Another lad who worked in the city also rode his motor bike to work and parked near me, we often walked to our workplaces together chatting away. He was a nice lad, but we only ever talked as we walked to work, he never asked me for a date as much as I would have liked him to. See the photo of us walking to work together helmets in hand. This photo is also in my album giving the impression I was a very popular girl. One of mum's sayings "a camera never lies."

Well mum, I have news for you!

I endeavoured to do the right thing by Mrs. Coates.

What would you like me to do?" I asked.

"I need the garden weeded".

Okay no worries, I spent a full weekend pulling out all the weeds between the rose bushes along the front fence. I couldn't believe it took so long, but I thought I did a good job. Mrs. Coates obviously didn't. I still don't know what I did wrong, but it certainly wasn't right for her. I made a pact with myself I wouldn't offer to do any more gardening for her. I didn't. She would never again chastise me for not doing a job 'properly' she wouldn't get a chance. I thought she could have shown a little gratitude for the painstaking work I 'helped' her with. Regardless, I was happy living with her. I felt as if my prayers had been answered.

Occasionally Bill dropped by unexpectedly, sometimes he asked me to go to Maughan Church with him I didn't care where we went I was happy just being with him and would have liked to see him more often but it was usually about once a fortnight. I must keep myself otherwise occupied.

Attending Maughan Church with Bill felt a grand affair and I loved the aspect of such a large imposing church but was continually surprised there was no interaction with anyone before or after the service: never mind I was with Bill.

Unley Methodist Church on King William Road was just around the corner from my flat. This stately church had special memories for me. Aunty Ruby's husband Jack Peters was the Parson at this church for many years, I remembered during our holidays in Adelaide visiting them and my cousins Dorothy and Barbara at the church grounds where they lived in the manse behind the church. I always felt this was a special and prestigious parish. How co-incidental? I was now living so near.

# 

# Chapter 3

## My Social Life

One lonely Sunday I decided to go along to Unley Methodist Church. As stately as the church was I felt a warmth and welcoming atmosphere; as was usual for me after church I stayed and chatted to people, they were all friendly and most interested to know I was the niece of a well-known and respected former parson of their church. I felt proud and important with their welcoming acceptance of little old me. The vibrant group of young people especially welcomed me into their fold inviting me to their join their Youth Club.

I really enjoyed Unley Church Youth Club; it was well run by young people the likes I had never met; it was so much fun. The young people involved were university students present or past, they weren't only fun they were intelligent and witty with not a bottle of beer or cigarette in site. This club met regularly occasionally organising socials and concerts, I loved every aspect of the club, especially some of the guys though I soon learned I wasn't in their league and retreated to my humble uneducated self, grateful for their acceptance of me into the club.

Some of these young folks taught Sunday school and asked me if I would like to be a teacher as well. I was honoured and accepted. I knew this would please my parents even though I wasn't a good teacher. I had no idea how to control or teach children, but I preferred being with the kids than sitting through a sermon. (Sunday school was conducted during the sermons).

This church experience was one I had never known the likes of. I was so happy. I knew mum and dad would be happy too, they knew my every movement I still wrote to them twice a week, to me it was 'normal' to put every aspect of my life in a letter to mum and dad. I couldn't tell them in person what I put in the regular letters. I knew they would whole heartedly approve of me attending church especially this church which our family had a connection with. I also felt obliged to 'pay them back' for making it possible to buy my Lambretta which gave me independence and ultimately a modicum of confidence.

I was asked if I would like to join the church choir.

WOULD I?

"Oh! Yes please."

I loved music I loved singing; I knew all the hymns. I had played the organ for the Penong church for years. I couldn't wait. Practice was Thursday nights. I rode my scooter there each week; my scooter was quite recognisable and I realised prestigious. I was so pleased Jim had insisted I purchase the Lambretta instead of the humble Honda scooter I had intended to buy.

Joining the choir meant I couldn't teach Sunday School, which was probably a good thing, especially for the kids. Choir wasn't as easy as I expected it to be. Singing with four different parts was new to me, I didn't know the anthems the choir sang each Sunday, it was a lot to learn each week, never mind I became apt at miming if I wasn't sure. I did enjoy the choir and practice evenings very much especially as most of the youth club members were also in the choir. I loved dressing in my 'Sunday best' sitting proudly in the front row of the choir allowing me unrestricted views of the congregation. The Choir Master also the organist a young family man and so talented, I was in awe of his capabilities and his lovely family.

My first big surprise experience with the choir was the combined churches choirs Xmas Carols. Many people gathered for rehearsal, all with their own music. I never had any, didn't matter I looked on with someone else. There were no rehearsals to learn the carols, everyone knew them, so did I until...The Hallelujah Chorus.

I was stunned. I had never heard anything like it.

There I was amid this huge choir where everyone confidently sang their parts in top voice. I silently mimed bits but mostly I listened in awe. I must learn this beautiful chorus before we performed it publicly. I borrowed music and earnestly practiced on the piano in the church hall every chance I got. At the Carols by Candlelight performance I felt confident enough to actually sing. What a thrill it was be part of such a magnificent choir. Easter was a similar experience where the combined choirs annually sang Handel's Messiah, I was very proud to be part of it. Even now when I hear choirs singing these wonderful compositions, I have shivers down my spine... remembering "I once sang this spine-tingling music in a choir."

Unley Methodist Church had tennis courts situated behind the church, used for competition as well as social. I was invited to play socially, then invited to play in a team against other churches on a Saturday afternoon. I loved the idea of having something to look forward to each Saturday, though I was conscious of my hick country style of playing. I realised learning to play with mum who was self-taught had an unwitting influence on me, I had copied her style of play, my stroke hitting of the ball was different from the professionally coached city players, never mind I could get the ball over the net okay.

If I didn't think about my 'hick tennis style' I would mostly win. I discovered the flash hitting tennis players hadn't been taught to handle such an unusual style as mine, even so I was quite embarrassed by the way I played, though I gained a little respect by telling them I had a friend Bill Hoad who was a cousin of Lew Hoad though I could see them thinking "she obviously didn't learn from Lew Hoad."

I was content, I now had many interests: tennis, choir, youth group activities, a nice flat, freedom and mobility. I longed to see Bill more often, but I understood he was a busy person. I was grateful each time he eventually called to see me, always unannounced because I felt it was an intrusion to give Mrs. Coates' phone number, so I never did, beside she never offered. It was bad enough when people knocked on her front door for me instead of my door at the rear, her mobility was limited, and she bitterly complained if she had to maneuver herself to answer the door then find my friends there; she was the same with phone calls.

When Bill visited I invited him to the church activities with me, he occasionally accepted, always finishing back at my flat for 'coffee'. I made a sort of espresso coffee by whipping the powdered milk I was forced to use (couldn't wake Mrs. Coates or sneak into her kitchen fridge for fresh milk at that time of night).

"We'll have coffee at your place, you make the best coffee."

I swelled with pride. At least I can do something nice I thought.

I realised much later this was a big mistake, me making delicious frothy coffee, I never got asked out or taken for coffee while it was available at my place... for free... and... with benefits... No! Not what you are thinking: only cuddles.

The summers in Adelaide were so hot. No air conditioning in those days. We didn't even have air con at work in the Myer basement. My flat was on the northwest corner of the house. It was a hot box. _They talk about 'global warning' these days... bullshit, it was much hotter in the twentieth century; it was the accepted weather pattern._

In my flat after work it WAS HOT. It was impossible to stay inside. As soon as the sun went down, I went outside on the lawn. Many a night I slept out there on a rug it was just too hot to be inside, even if there had been a breeze it would not have been enough to cool down my hot corner of the house. Sleeping out on the lawn had its drawback, mossies. I don't know which was worse, tossing sleepless in the heat or being eaten alive by mossies. Cool changes were most welcome.

I longed to see Bill more, he occasionally called in after dinner, I would wait with excited anticipation never knowing when it might be. It was always a pleasure to see him and he seemed pleased to see me. No, he didn't want coffee, we chatted for a while until the chatting progressed to kissing and petting, my favourite pastime. I always had Ted's words in my mind "Don't let any guy touch you!" No! I had no intention of letting my feelings get out of hand; heavy petting was okay but definitely no penetration of the penis into my vagina.

I felt something for Bill I had never felt with anyone else. I had never been intimate with a gentle sober minded guy, it was a contented feeling. I knew mum and dad would be happy. Kissing and petting usually got very involved with Bill, never in my bed just standing always fully clothed in the kitchen where our bodies melded together from our toes to our lips. I could feel the hardness of his manhood pressed into my stomach through our clothes, it never took long for his sexual fever to reach a high pitch then with a groan he relaxed and pulled away.

"I'd better go home now."

Such will power I thought. I didn't mind our heavy petting giving him relief even though I was left wanting. I was content he even bothered to see me.

I was so enjoying my newfound independence, friends and lifestyle. Now I had my own flat I found I had many unexpected visitors, my invited friends knew the way to my entrance at the rear, those visiting Adelaide from Penong or Ceduna naturally called in to see me which worried me when they knocked on the front door. Mrs. Coates was never amused at this intrusion especially late at night when they were in a happy mood from alcohol. I entertained them very proper, with never a hint of encouragement by flirting; they got the message and didn't stay long, never to return.

Glenys's brother Bill remained a good friend he was my 'Brother Bill'. One night we had been out together, when we arrived back at my flat just after midnight I realised I had misplaced my key. I never considered waking Mrs. Coates at that time of the night it would have pushed our friendship just too far. We had no alternative but to wait it out in Bill's car until daylight. We did, we curled up on the front seat, we knew and understood each other very well, we had been extra good friends before moving to the city, sleeping in the car wasn't uncomfortable for us, not that we had a choice this night, neither of us felt embarrassed as we fell into a sound sleep not waking till daylight. I felt so guilty spending all night in the street in a car with a boy.

WHAT WOULD THE NEIGHBORS THINK?

I was mortified.

Mrs. Coates didn't seem to be perturbed, nor did the neighbours, they hadn't even realised I had spent the night in the car alone with a guy. WOW so different to home, such liberated freedom was a deliciously new experience to me.

I was invited to go out to dinner with a group of young folks from tennis, there was a 'nice' lad they thought could partner me... a blind date?

"What's that? "I asked some of my older workmates if it was 'proper' to accept an invitation such as this. They said dining out was okay but warned me to be careful after dinner??

"Why?" I wondered.

"I can look after myself; I won't get into any unsavoury predicaments."

I accepted. Okay this would be another new experience for me, I was looking forward to it, though a little nervous as to how to behave in a licensed restaurant with a group of virtual strangers.

Dinner was at a popular restaurant with nine other young people. I need not have worried they were all very nice young folks and made me feel welcome. The lad who was my 'date' was also very nice and very proper, a nerd who treated me like a lady. I wasn't used to mixing with such a group of young people whose priority wasn't to get drunk. My 'brother' Bill and Bill Hoad were as near as I got to knowing some-one like this guy, but my Bill's weren't nerds, one was my lifelong friend the other was an exciting new friend.

I felt at ease with this new group of people, I also felt comfortably safe with the nerd, I was certain he was a genuinely nice person. After dinner everyone paired off. Some went here, some went there, and some were going to a caravan. Nerd asked me what I wanted to do. I thought the caravan sounded interesting, I loved caravanning.

We three couples entered this caravan which was set up with bunks. The other two couples selected their bunks and settled on them, lying down; we both awkwardly climbed up to the remaining single bunk. We couldn't help but embrace there was no room on the bunk for us to fit if we didn't. We were virtual strangers put in a situation neither of us seemed able to get a grip of. We both lay rigid on the bunk. I was so embarrassed, and I am sure Nerd was too. Finally, he asked "shall we go for a walk?"

I was so relieved he took this initiative.

We escaped the caravan and walked back to his car, expressing our embarrassment to each other. I think he decided I was "a nice girl" probably worth pursuing? He took me home to my flat and asked if he could see me again. I didn't have the heart to say no; anyway, I was so yearning for young friends, especially a boyfriend. "Yes."

Nerd visited me a few times he was such a nice guy, but I felt absolutely no sparks, I felt he was too nice. I became concerned when he brought his mother into our relationship, in words only but things were moving too fast, though there was absolutely no physical contact between us I felt uncomfortable with his proposed intentions, especially when he suggested his mother would do this, that and the other for me I thought "whoa whoa!"

What could I do about it? I never had the heart to tell him I had no feelings for him, and I didn't want his mother's intervention. In fact, I found him to be quite boring. What was wrong with me? I knew he was a nice guy.

A solution came unexpectedly, a surprise visitor from Penong, one of the lads visiting Adelaide dropped in to visit a lifelong friend... ME. I was thrilled to see someone from home it was like a breath of fresh air in my rather lonely existence. We were enjoying a chat catching up on all the gossip when who should walk in but Nerd.

There was stunned embarrassment from both guys, my friend thought he was intruding in my life and was about to apologise and say his goodbyes. I secretly whispered, "Don't go." He was rather surprised but stayed. The three of us small talked until Nerd excused himself saying "Goodbye."

I thanked my friend explaining

"Nerd obviously thought you were a boyfriend."

I never saw Nerd again. I realised it was a coward's way to end a relationship and I am sorry, but it seemed to be right at the time. I didn't know how to face someone to tell them something they wouldn't want to hear.

I do hope Nerd found a nice lady, a more suitable lady than me, and lived happy ever after. He deserved it!

I enjoyed the fellowship of the choir members as much as the singing. I must have been okay because the Musical Director asked me to sing solo a verse of "I'll Walk with God". I was so proud. I practice the verse over and over as I rode along on my scooter. One night as I was riding the scooter along Fisher Street Fullarton to a doctor's appointment, I was loudly practicing my solo........

"I'll walk with God. I'll take His hand. I'll walk with God, He'll understaaa.........

BANG........CRASH......CRUNCH.

I didn't see the stop sign at Fullarton Rd. I drove straight through it and into the left side of a passing late model sedan.

I very nearly did "walk with God".

It was lucky I wasn't a few seconds earlier or I would have been run over by the poor innocent man whom I had crashed into, he was more upset than me. I was alive and appeared to have escaped injuries. My scooter was a bit twisted. I checked it out and decided I could continue riding it to the doctors not very far away. The kindly man begged me to let him take me. No! I wasn't leaving my scooter behind. We exchanged names etc. He watched with trepidation as I took off on my scooter, it was hard to steer because the handles were twisted a different way to the way the wheels were directed I felt like a crab crawling cautiously along the kerbside of the road as I dangerously made my way to the doctors surgery.

Doctor Freda was horrified and immediately pounded my bike in her yard insisting I call a cab. I used her phone and rang Bill. Luckily, he was home, he came and picked me up; next day he took my scooter to Freeman Motors for repairs.

I had a sore right thumb; an ex-ray showed it was broken, before I could fathom my situation it was put in plaster all the way up to my elbow.

Mr. Laws was dubious about me working with an arm in plaster. I assured him it wouldn't hinder my work at all. During the day the Mr. Big Boss happened to walk past, I saw him looking at my plaster cast. Next thing I was summonsed to his office. He sat me down, in an apologetic tone told me I couldn't be seen working in a plaster cast, he was genuinely sorry to be telling me I had to take time off without pay and was concerned as to how I would manage?

I still remember the surprised look on his face when I happily replied "Good! I will go home. I have wanted time off to go back to Penong and haven't been granted it."

Mum and dad were pleased to have me home though be it for only two weeks, they paid my fares. I was looking forward to a holiday. It was much more fun on the farm now Roger was a licensed driver. He was allowed to go where he wanted, when he wanted. I was allowed to go with him, what luxury, home wasn't a jail anymore.

Roger was a typical 'local larrikin lad' I couldn't believe he was allowed to behave as he did, mum and dad must have known, the gossipers would have surely told them, either mum and dad turned a blind eye and deaf ear or they accepted their son's wayward behaviour. I well remember the warnings reprimands and principles I was continually subjected to as my parents instilled their ideals and beliefs into me making my life on the farm a boring misery.

Roger took me to join the local gang. It was so good to catch up with all the local young folks who were lifelong friends. I saw Ted; he was still at Penong, shearing when needed and getting work where-ever he could. He was still the same gentle Ted. I enjoyed spending time with him but felt guilty knowing how much mum and dad disapproved.

Although it was more enjoyable at home now, I soon felt homesick for Adelaide, and Bill, although there was no commitment from him I lived in hope. Bill met me at the airport; he seemed as pleased to see me as I was to see him. It was nice. I felt comforted and content with Bill's warm reception to my homecoming.

My scooter had been repaired; my broken thumb was still in plaster; well my arm was in plaster the broken part of the thumb was protruding from the plaster cast. I now had to face my three driving offense charges; failing to stop at a stop sign, failing to give way to the right, and negligence driving. I knew I was guilty of all three.

I had joined the Royal Automobile Association when I bought the scooter. The RAA insurance handled the insurance claim and their solicitors took over the three driving offenses. I didn't have to attend court for which I was truly thankful. My defense was my scooter lights weren't strong or high enough to pick up the stop sign which was hidden partly behind a tree branch. This was true. I rode along this road often, this wasn't the first time I had driven straight through that crossroad without seeing the Stop sign, guess I had been luckier the previous successful crossings.

The RAA's solicitors managed to have the negligence and failing to stop at a stop sign charges both dropped. I was charged with failing to give way to the right. I was fined and ordered to attend a driver education evening at the police station, which I did. This education evening had a profound effect on me, I realised how easy in one split second of lack of concentration you can be dead.

This program should be shown to all Learners and offending drivers.

My scooter all fixed was ready to collect; problem was I wasn't allowed to have my licence back until the plaster was removed from my arm.

"If the plaster is not on my arm can I have my licence back?"

"Yes."

The plaster cast started just below the break in my thumb and finished at my elbow. I could move the broken thumb, it didn't hurt too much, I thought the plaster cast was a joke, it did nothing for the break certainly it didn't protect the area that was broken. I went straight to the doctors, explained how I thought the plaster was totally useless, she agreed and promptly removed it. No question as to how the broken thumb felt. I made no mention either.

That same afternoon I returned to claim my licence. The same gentleman was dumb founded looking at my arm devoid of the plaster cast.

"Well I said you could have your licence when the cast was off, so I suppose I have got to give it to you."

"Thank you!" I said as I made sure he didn't detect how painful my thumb still was.

I collected my 'as new again' scooter from Jim at Freeman Motors and happily rode it home.

Dad paid my fine. Good I didn't have to dig into my savings.

My city life returned to normal. I was still alive.

I had learned a valuable lesson... concentrate at all times while driving.

Ted came to Adelaide for his holidays, and of course we always spent time together. Having my own flat was a wonderful opportunity for petting without being discovered. Strange, now that I had unlimited freedom, I felt very responsible for myself. I had strict rules for my male visitors... no entering my bedroom. Ted respected this and never pushed me into breaking that rule. I felt his feelings for me were growing stronger. He showed more attention and love to me than Bill. I was in a dilemma! Ted could arouse my sexual desires though he never took advantage of my vulnerability. I never became aroused with Bill like I did with Ted, but I knew Bill was a better prospect for marriage than Ted. Bill had excellent prospects for a future. Ted didn't think about the future, he was happy to live day by day.

Ted was getting to know a different Eunice, a Eunice not under the watchful eye of her parents, he told me I had changed. I guess I was being my real self, a person I was also discovering. I relished in this newfound independence. I had never had an opportunity to act independent of the influence of my family and the community. I loved being with Ted feeling very comfortable with him, but my inner sense told me he wasn't a good marriage prospect.

I was 20 years old now and marriage was very much on my agenda, as much as I desperately wanted to marry, I wouldn't commit myself to again becoming engaged to Ted. The last words Ted said to me before he went home after this holiday was "I'll come back next holiday and try again." These words gave me a warm feeling, I wasn't going to be left 'on the shelf' (the term to describe girls who didn't marry). It was deemed to be a slight on a girl if she didn't get an offer of marriage. I didn't want to become an 'old maid' I felt relieved to think there was someone who actually wanted to marry me. I did not want to be 'left on the shelf'.

I didn't dare hope Bill could love me as Ted did, but, oh, how I wished he could. I knew Bill would never marry he made that very clear from the day we met. Why would he? He was very happy with his lifestyle. He had a good job; he had his own room at his mum and stepdad's home where he could come and go as he pleased. He had his mum who doted on him and looked after him unconditionally. He wasn't going to give up his comfortable life to take on the responsibility of marriage. I could only dream, and I knew mum and dad would approve of a non-drinking Methodist marrying me even though he wasn't a farmer.

"What am I thinking about? Bill doesn't show any signs of marrying."

I talked to Mrs. Coates about my dilemma between Ted and Bill; she had met both, to my surprise she told me Ted was the better catch. She was adamant.

"Never marry an only child! They have always been indulged and are very selfish people."

I thought she was being harsh in her judgment of Bill. Well I probably wouldn't have to worry about Bill, he had no intention of getting married to anyone let alone me, he wasn't about to change his comfortable lifestyle besides he adored his, mum she was the most important woman in his life and his life revolved around her. I thought she must be some remarkable lady. I longed to meet her but was never invited to.

I kept myself happily busy, the weekends I didn't see Bill I visited my aunties and cousins and friends of mum and dad who always welcomed me with open arms and fed me delicious meals. I couldn't cook proper meals in my basic kitchen so home cooked meals were a luxury and I noted also made my host happy, they seemed to enjoy watching me tucking in and enjoying their food. During these visits I chatted without reserve I had nothing to hide about my escapades and new life in Adelaide. I knew it would all be reported back to mum and dad. Good. I was proud of the life I had carved for myself in 'The Big Smoke'. I hoped they would be too.

Movie theatres were the big entertainment of this era, I loved going to the movies and went often on my own. On the rare occasion I was asked to the movies I tried to have a sleep prior so I wouldn't fall asleep during the movie, it was so embarrassing to fall asleep on a date. Theatres were grand buildings with lavish décor, some had a pipe organ installed with a resident organist who played it as a prelude to the movies, people arrived early to sit and enjoy these recitals. I loved to arrive early and listen too.

On Saturday nights when I didn't have a date (this was most weekends) I got on my scooter and rode to one of the dance venues. Norwood Glenelg and Burnside Town halls were the most popular. I had gained enough confidence to attend these dances alone. I thought I might see Bill there. I never did. I wondered what he was doing on Saturday nights. I would have loved it if he was at the dances and we could dance together all night. I tried to enjoy myself on these nights I didn't know anyone so mainly watched other couples enjoying themselves.

Occasionally I was asked by a boy to dance I always accepted if the boy was taller than me. I had a thing about looking down on a boy. As desperate as I was I still couldn't come at dancing with foreigners and there were a plenty, they were migrating to Australia in large numbers, they persistently asked wallflowers like me (girls who seldom were asked) to dance, as much as I wanted to dance I couldn't bring myself to accept a dance with a short "no understand English" guy. I thought the girls who accepted their requests to dance weren't 'nice girls. I never met anyone at these dances who offered to drive me home, or anyone that I wanted to get to know better. I had my scooter I was independent and had to drive it home anyway. I was yearning for Bill and think I was looking for someone like him because he seemed elusive. I mustn't expect too much from Bill; even so I dreamed of dancing around the dance floor in his arms.

The Tunarama Festival is held annually at Pt Lincoln on the Australia day holiday weekend in January. I flew to Pt. Lincoln where mum and dad met me at the airport. I was excited to be seeing them though cautious as to how they would accept my newfound independence. I flitted around the town doing the festival things including attending the big dance on the Saturday evening. I met a very confident guy, Dan, in army uniform, he wore it proudly. Dan was a few years older than me, a tall striking handsome man who appeared to like me. I was flattered. He lived at Semaphore in Adelaide and was in Pt. Lincoln for the weekend working with the army in his capacity as chef. I enjoyed his company.

I had never mixed with defence personal; mum and dad's opinion of the army was for people who couldn't get a job anywhere else, so I was a bit reluctant to introduce him to them. Finally, I did. Dan wanted to meet them which impressed me, mostly my friends avoided mum and dad. To my surprise mum and dad graciously accepted Dan as my friend and allowed me unsupervised freedom to be with him, they even let him take me to the airport for my flight back to Adelaide. 'Times were a... changing.'

Dan made me feel very special all weekend, he was an exceptionally good dancer; we danced a lot. Finally, my dreams became a reality. I was in the arms of an adoring man romantically dancing the night away. I was floating on a cloud. We spent all our spare time together. I was flying back to Adelaide the day before him; he made me promise we would continue our friendship back in Adelaide.

At the airport he made a big show of saying goodbye engulfing me in his arms against his large, muscled body smothering me with hugs and long lingering kisses, as much as I enjoyed this open show of affection I was worried some-one I knew would see me and report back to mum and dad.

The flight back to Adelaide allowed me to get my emotions into perspective. Bill was meeting me at Adelaide airport, how risqué of me to be put on the plane by one guy amidst such an open show of affection to be met by another guy greeting me affectionately. It seemed as if Bill missed me it was _obvious_ he was pleased to see me. I couldn't believe how my social life had suddenly come alive.

Bill's spasmodic visits allowed me plenty of time to spend with Dan and he was such fun to be with. Dan didn't have a car he was happy to taxi everywhere, he seemed to have plenty of money and happy to spend it on me. I asked him if he was game to ride pillion on my scooter, he was not only willing but keen.

It was a strange sensation for me riding through Adelaide City with this big man on the hind seat of my scooter clinging to me, the scooter was struggling against the extra weight. I felt conscious of looking ridiculous, especially after midnight on our way home from nightclubs riding down King William Street. Dan didn't seem to care; in fact, he seemed to enjoy the rides. I thought it a bit odd.

We went to night clubs had coffee and danced the nights away, it was so romantic, we inevitably finished back at my flat, not for coffee, he always bought us coffees at cosy romantic venues. I really fell for Dan he was a very confident person and an experienced lover. He took me to greater romantic heights than I had ever known. Yes, he wooed me into my bedroom and the single bed, BUT... never once penetrating me. He knew what he was doing and did it in such thrilling ways until I orgasmed. WOW! What a guy? All the while respecting my virginity!

Dan often worked away from Adelaide, he begged me to go to the Adelaide Railway Station to see him off. How romantic those farewells were? He embraced me ardently ignoring the final boarding calls, he wouldn't let me go until the train was leaving the platform, then in a flurry and a long lasting final kiss he ran along the platform chasing the moving train until he found his carriage then jumped aboard all the while loudly declaring his love for me. All his mates were enviously watching and cheering. It was like in the movies, although I was flattered, I was also slightly embarrassed I wasn't used to being the subject of such a public display.

We were both in love. He gave me a very special leather-bound family photo album, it was obvious photos had been taken out of it, but he told me he wanted me to have it. I was touched. I wrote all the details to mum and dad, they seemed happy for me. Mrs. Coates liked him and was happy for me. I told my cousins Dorothy and Barbara; they were happy for me. Bill seemed to be from another era and world.

Dorothy knew most people at Semaphore because they owned the Semaphore general store and attended Semaphore Methodist church along with Dan's family whom they knew. Dorothy told me they only had one son and he was married. I was sure she had the wrong family. It couldn't possibly be the same family.

A few days later Dorothy rang me "I have spoken to Dan's mother she told me he is married."

"I don't believe it. I will ask him."

Next time I saw Dan I asked him, he assured me he wasn't married.

I rang Dorothy "You have it all wrong, he's not married, he told me so."

Dorothy was absolutely adamant she was right "and that photograph album he gave you is a precious family heirloom and the family would appreciate it returned."

I decided while Dan was away, I would visit his mum and ask her direct. Dorothy gave me her address and told her to expect a call from me. I wanted to take the album with me, it would be difficult transporting it on my scooter so I asked Bill if he would take me to this address at Semaphore, he graciously obliged. With much trepidation I knocked on Dan's door, his mother greeted me, she was a lovely lady who sadly told me the truth.

"I'm afraid Dan is married, though not happily."

She was very grateful to have the photo album returned.

I was deflated and most upset about the lies Dan had told me.

My feelings for Dan immediately turned to disgust anger and contempt, how could I have been so easily duped? It was a comfort to have Bill there to drive me home without asking questions. I told Dorothy she was right and thanked her for telling me and asked her not to tell anyone. I was so embarrassed.

I never told anyone Dan was married, I just said we weren't friends anymore. I was surprised mum didn't cross examine me. I was grateful she didn't. I didn't want to face any more humiliation.

When Dan returned from his posting, he rang me, I gave him the biggest telling off I had ever given anyone, I was very angry, how dare he lie so blatantly to me. I never heard from him again.

February 11th. 1961 I turned twenty-one. I went home to celebrate this milestone. Mum and Dad hired the Penong Hall and as was the custom in the country everyone was invited through the grapevine and an open invite in the West Coast Sentinel.

The morning of my birthday dad told me Snowball my pony was getting old and sick and had to be 'put down', in fact he had already done it, a single bullet in the head in a distant paddock alongside the hole previously dug. Snowball would have been dragged into the hole and covered with dirt. I was very sad, but the excitement of my party overcame my grief.

Me at 21.

The party was a lovely evening of dancing, finishing with a sumptuous country supper provided by the locals. I felt so special, so many local dignitaries saying complimentary things about me. WOW! What a confidence booster. It was nearly two years since I had suddenly left Penong. Mum and dad were proud I was doing well in the 'big smoke', and the 'locals' all knew of my progress. See pic of me in a lime green Lame' frock and stole I made for my 21st.

Bill gave me the loveliest musical silver pewter jewelry case, he also wrote to me while I was at Penong, I was so excited. I looked forward to getting back to Adelaide to see him. Mum smugly said "I can see a big difference in you." Bigger than what I wondered? I assumed it was for the better.

Glenys was marrying Kevin her boyfriend she met when she first moved to Adelaide. Kevin a lovely guy studying Architecture at Adelaide University lived with his family at Black Forest who had welcomed Glenys into their fold. Glenys asked me to be bridesmaid along with her cousin. Glenys mother who still lived at Penong made Glenys's exquisite heavy satin wedding gown. I made the two bridesmaids' gowns of heavy old gold satin.

We enjoyed the usual pre wedding formalities, a kitchen evening where gifts for the kitchen were given to the bride, fittings for the gowns, rehearsals and of course the pampering and preparation of ourselves for the actual wedding.

The day of the wedding arrived. We dressed with much care to detail. The bridal party looked so elegant. Kevin's attendants were his brother and Glenys's brother Bill who was to partner me. Brother Bill's girlfriend Shirley was a guest and I had invited Bill along as well.

While brother Bill and I enjoyed doing our duties with the bridal party, lover Bill (as I affectionately called him) and Shirley became companionably acquainted. After the festivities lover Bill took me home we had a lovely evening together back in my flat, I felt we were becoming closer, hopefully more than just friends, even though Bill told me he nearly took Shirley home instead of me... well he didn't did he, he took me home. I was so grateful.

# 

# Chapter 4

## Bill's Family

One day Bill came to my flat totally distraught. His mother had not been well and had been diagnosed with cancer; she wasn't expected to live very long. He was fearful of the pain she had to suffer which she did without complaint. I was so sorry for him all I could do was be there for him and comfort him. He worshipped his mum and relied on her to do everything for him. I wondered how he would get on living with his stepfather.

Bill's life was in disarray he was grieving so much for his mum, how could he manage without her? During this distressing time Bill often visited my flat usually after he had visited his mum in hospital, he was so upset and grief stricken.

He worried because she worried about him.

She worried how was he going to cope when she wasn't there, who would do his washing, his cleaning, his cooking?

Mr. Gourlay was very capable, but he and Bill still didn't speak to each other. It was a deplorable situation. I encouraged Bill to call in whenever he wanted, he did. He called in more often as time went by, always on his way home from the hospital. I felt privileged to be given the opportunity to comfort him. There was nothing else I could do... or was there?

Bill had never introduced me to his family and I desperately wanted to meet his mum the woman whom he doted on... so I plucked up the courage to secretly go and visit her during the day when I knew Bill and his stepfather were at work. I hoped no other visitors were with her, I wanted to be alone with her.

I asked Ron if I could have an afternoon off work.

"Of course, you can dearie."

I cautiously told an emotion filled tale to a nurse who kindly showed me to Mrs. Gourlay's bed. I had no idea what she looked like. I was in luck; she was alone, lying prostrate in the bed looking so forlorn and obviously very ill. I introduced myself as Bill's friend, we chatted. I'm sure she warmed to me. She asked me about my family. I told her they were successful farmers devout Methodists and very active in the community. I'm sure she indicated her approval. I think she realised I loved Bill, I insinuated I would look after him. I assured her I was experienced at cooking and housekeeping it had been my job on the farm. I felt we had a connection. I kissed her gently on her forehead as I left and told her I would always be there for her beloved son.

I never saw her again, she died only a few days later, but not before she had a heart to heart talk with Bill.

The day Bill's mum died was a very sad day. Bill was devastated. I was pleased he came straight to me for comfort. I felt privileged he had chosen me, I was so ready to be there for him and do for him whatever he needed, except sexual penetration of course. I wondered how-ever he would cope; not only with his mother's death but also the friction between him and his step-dad whom now he would be living alone with. It would be an awful situation at home for him, having to rely and expect his stepdad to look after him.

Males in those days didn't partake in any household chores whatsoever, housework and cooking were strictly woman's work, a woman's chore in life was to look after her man and make his life as comfortable as possible. Bill had always had his mother to look after him. Charlie had been a bachelor until he married Bill's mum when he was near forty years old, he was used to looking after himself. But Alas! I didn't know how he would cope looking after Bill too.

Bill asked if I would go home with him and meet his stepdad,

"Of course I will."

We went straight to their Torrensville home, the first time I had been there. I was wary of meeting Mr. Gourlay. I thought of him as a grumpy awful person, though thought he couldn't be that bad if Bill's mum had married him. I would at last find out for myself. I was feeling privileged to be included in the grief which abounded this house, and as I found out the grief involved the whole neighbourhood.

What a pleasant surprise Mr. Gourlay was, though filled with grief he was a happy go lucky jovial man, a bit like my dad. He welcomed me with open arms. I met the neighbours, though also grief stricken warmly welcomed me.

I learned Bill's mum was a popular and much-loved lady, very genteel kindly and caring, she would go out of her way to help everyone, she would be sorely missed by them all. She was as revered by the neighbours as much as Bill and Mr. Gourlay revered her. I could understand Bill's affection for her. I could feel his pain.

The neighbours were taking turns to cook meals for Bill and Mr. Gourlay, they had interconnecting gates in their back yards allowing easy access to each other's property. They were great company and a comfort at this sad time especially to Mr. Gourlay. Bill seemed to lean to me more which I relished in. I was happy to do all I could to ease his sorrow.

The funeral was arranged. Both Bill and Mr. Gourlay asked if I would attend.

"Of course I would."

They apologised for me not being able to be in the 'official ' mourner's group. I was apprehensive about attending on my own, when I told Cousin Dorothy, she offered to come to the funeral with me. I was so grateful for her offer, knowing how busy she was with her family and grocery store.

I got the day off work and carefully dressed in black, I had plenty of black for work. I chose a smart black frock and small chic black hat I had made trimmed with netting covering the top part of my face. Dorothy picked me up from my flat and drove to the funeral parlour. I was so grateful to her for coming along. We stayed in the background, Dorothy knew no-one there I only knew Bill and the ones I had met at his home, they were all grief stricken and busy being comforted by the many mourners gathered for the funeral.

After the funeral when most people had left, I introduced Dorothy to Bill and his stepdad who asked me if I would go back to the house with them. I felt terrible leaving Dorothy after her being so kind as to be with me, but she assured me it was fine, she had to get back to the shop anyway.

I went home with Bill and Mr. Gourlay. We all got on so well. I promised to help in any way possible. The neighbours had a roster for meals, washing etc. I wondered how long this generosity could go on for. Mrs. Platten an eccentric widow who lived next door was the main meal provider cooking a meal each day for them. Mr. Gourlay insisted on paying her but she absolutely refused. On weekends when I visited, she also cooked for me, always lovely wholesome meals. I wanted to help her wash the dishes. No." she never allowed us to help her wash up. It was embarrassing for me. This went on for many weeks until one day she decided she couldn't do it anymore. I was not surprised.

Mr. Gourlay loved fishing; he desperately wanted a fishing boat so he could fish in the Port River and the ocean beyond. He found a dilapidated ugly boat that had a good in board motor and solid hull, he talked to Bill about it and bought it. Bill helped him strip the boat and together they worked meticulously restoring it in their spare time, it was great to see them communicating and working happily together. Bill built a completely new cabin while Mr. Gourlay serviced the motor. The finished result was a very stylish functional fishing boat they called 'Anne' Bill's mother's name.

'Anne' healed many rifts between Bill and his stepdad, it was lovely to see them finally relating to each other. I'm sure it helped soothe the grief they were both suffering. I remember the first day 'Anne' went to sea, a very special moment. Mr. Gourlay was so proud of the Anne, Bill was also proud of it; he had designed and built a beautiful boat. Bill was so clever. I was in awe and madly in love. I was proud to be a witness to the culmination of this project which achieved not only a special fishing boat but a bonding of stepdad and son.

The inaugural launch and subsequent fishing trip were my introduction to fishing. I enjoyed being on the water and couldn't resist jumping into the sea and swimming around the boat, I loved the sea; any fish we caught was a bonus. I wasn't keen on the extensive cleanup necessary of the boat at the end of the day; I thought that alleviated the enjoyment of the trip.

About this time a vibrant group of fishing enthusiasts also boat owners started 'The Small Boat Club' at Port Adelaide. The club grew and became very popular; Mr. Gourlay was a foundation member. They held great social functions, Mr. Gourlay always invited Bill and I, they were great fun, we really enjoyed ourselves.

Mr. Gourlay took over the cooking from Mrs. Platten, he was a bachelor cook, only ever cooked for himself, basic food like sausages and fritz. Bill soon detested sausages and fritz and visited my flat more often. He always accepted an invite for a meal; in fact, usually he visited at mealtimes. I didn't mind I was happy he relied on me as much as he did. Mum endeavoured at every chance to send an esky of farm produce to me, it usually consisted of mutton, butter, eggs and beef or pork if a steer or a pig had been recently slaughtered. There were no freezers, so we ate very well when the eskies arrived. I was glad to share this produce with such appreciative folks. Most weekends I rode my scooter to Bills home taking the ingredients and cooking it. I always gave some produce to Mrs. Oates as well; after all I used her fridge to store it in.

It soon became the accepted rule each weekend when at Bill's place I cooked. I took the ingredients I needed because there was very little in their larder. Mr. Gourlay bought groceries as they needed it, sausages, fritz, sauce and bread. Mr. Gourlay and Bill enjoyed my cooking; it was a welcome change from sausages and fritz. A common saying... "The way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

I was working on it.

I liked Mr. Gourlay I got on very well with him; I noticed he and Bill were communicating almost as normal, I was pleased; it made their days of living together so much easier to bear. Life went on, though Mrs. Gourlay was still mourned, their lives settled into a workable pattern of which I was very much a part of, Mr. Gourlay made sure I was, we had a mutual respect for each other and I was always included in their traditional family gatherings on Sunday afternoons.

Mr. Gourlay's family consisted of his elderly widowed dad and lady friend Mater, his brothers Gordon and Cecil, sister Vi and their families, another sister Joyce had been estranged from the family, she wasn't mentioned at this time.

Bill's mum whose maiden name was Ann Jones, had only one sibling; a sister who died years earlier, her widowed husband Charles Endersby and their forty-year-old maiden daughter Rita lived at the prestigious suburb of Hazelwood Park. Uncle Charles was a retired dairy farmer from Finnis south of Adelaide, one of his two sons now owned that farm the other owned a dairy farm at Kangarilla. This family was Bill's only living blood relatives he knew of; he didn't know of any family from his father's side.

Bill's mother's family and Mr. Gourlay's families had been family friends when they were young children. We enjoyed many social functions with all the families together, it was always a pleasure being with them they were lovely people and accepted me into their fold. Mum and dad would definitely approve.

Bill now attended most of Unley Methodist functions and church with me. There were a few betrothed couples in the Youth Group who we became friendly with, they also sang in the choir. During the sermon we all filed down to sit in the congregation, the couples dodging around so they could sit with each other I sat by Bill who positioned himself where I could easily slip in beside him. All the couples held hands during the sermon. I admired this young group of people, so forward and forthright, we enjoyed many social functions together. Bill and I seemed to be becoming an item. I was enjoying the closeness I felt I shared with him.

Three other couples were planning their weddings I was rather envious of them getting married. How wonderful to be openly planning your future together. I enjoyed listening to their hopes plans and dreams for their future together; how wonderful it would be to have the security of knowing you could plan the future with the man you loved.

Bill never discussed marriage; it certainly wasn't etiquette for the lady to broach the subject. I must be content with the relationship I had with Bill and his family, certainly I was very happy. I was included in all their family gatherings. I hoped I was proving to him I was capable of looking after him. I went to a lot of trouble with the meals I prepared. It was no chore I loved doing it. Mum's words always in my mind "the way to a man's heart is through his tummy."

I hoped and prayed. Bill never mentioned the future, but I was happy he spent so much time with me. In these days, offspring lived at home until they married, living with a partner before marriage didn't happen. Traditionally when a couple decided to marry they got engaged and saved up for a deposit on a home then married which the bride's parents paid for, it was the bride's family's gift to the groom for providing for their daughter for the rest of her life; in return the daughter tended to all her new husband's needs, all household chores and singularly tended any children they were blessed with.

Females married for security; males married for sex. because 'good' girls didn't have sex out of wed lock. I was a 'good girl' and expected to be 'traditional'.

Bill and I spent every weekend together now. Saturday afternoons I rode my scooter to his home after tennis or straight from work if there was no tennis and cooked a hot meal. Saturday nights we sometimes went to a drive-in picture show. A 'drive-in" was a large outdoor area for cars to drive in and watch the movies on a huge outdoor screen. Sound posts were at each car site with a mobile speaker available to put in the interior of each car. This was the popular venue for young lovers in fact it was the only legitimate place available for heavy petting in those days. It didn't matter what the movie was, I don't think many young couples watched it. Many babies were conceived at Drive-in Theatres.

I particularly liked drive-ins because I didn't feel embarrassed if I fell asleep and I usually did. It annoyed me so much falling asleep during movies, it was irrelevant whether the movie was good or bad I would fall asleep anyway. Still do!

Sunday after church I was included in the Gourlay family gathering for afternoon tea, any spare time we had we drove around looking at properties and new subdivisions, well Bill looked, I thought it fruitless me looking there was no way I would be buying any. I didn't care what we did I just enjoyed being with Bill. I felt we were growing closer. One day Bill said "Mum told me just before she died, I should marry you, but I'm not sure..."

I was elated I felt sure he would do as his mum wished.

I could only hope and pray.

He said a few times over the next few weeks "I know mum said I should marry you, but I am not real sure..."

I was happy he still wanted to see me and spend time with me.

"I must do all the right things to please him."

I was happy at work. I enjoyed working on the 'Special Tables' the ladies were all good fun along with our gorgeous boss. We all loved Mr. Laws, he was a continuous joy to work with and for, we worked as hard and long as was necessary to surpass the expected sales figures. Ron appreciated our efforts working happily along with us, we worked as a family consequently they were interested in my private life. I kept them informed of all the aspects of my social life. Bill seemed to be the central focus these days.

My relatives were also happy for me, and Bill was accepted into our family. My life was busy and meaningful. I was at last content, as content as I could be without a commitment from Bill.

Mrs. Coates was the person who wasn't so happy for me. I think she was a bit put out I spent less time with her, she often said "only children are selfish, you would be much better off marrying Ted."

I thought she may be jealous of Bill because she knew he was my first choice, he was the better marriage proposition, but Ted was the one who wanted to marry me. Bill had never mentioned marriage. What a problem I had!

I endeavoured to accomplish the chores I promised to do for Mrs. Coates but she expected me to do extra things for her. She was rather ungracious when I either entertained Bill or went out with him. I thought she was being unreasonable and now understood why her family didn't come to see her more often. She had two adored adult grandsons who occasionally visited her. One grandson a trainee policeman, unbeknown to me called to see his grandmother one Sunday. I was in the shower getting ready for church; the swinging connecting door was shut to Mrs. Coates's section of the house; my back door was wide open. The grandson couldn't arouse his grandma at the front door, so took it on himself to come to the back of the house where he intended to get to his grandma's through my flat... just as I was emerging from the bathroom... stark naked!

We confronted each other. I was stunned, appalled, SO embarrassed! I screamed. The grandson retreated quickly.

I was in a terrible state of shock, nothing so terrible had ever happened to me like this. I was most annoyed when I told and made it clear to Mrs. Coates how embarrassed I was; she seemed to think I was over reacting. How dare she not berate her grandson for invading my privacy!

I was still shaking when Bill came to take me to church; I was so upset I didn't want to go. I didn't feel I could face anyone after the shame of a man seeing me completely naked.

Bill coaxed me into going to church. I'm glad I did, although no-one knew of my trauma, I felt dirty and unworthy, but everyone acting normal towards me helped to shake the shame away.

This was the most shameful happening to me in all my life; would I ever feel right again?

I was sure I wouldn't.

# 

# Chapter 5

## Elation

It was March 1962. Dad came to Adelaide on a business trip. I liked it when dad came to Adelaide because he not only brought an esky full of farm produce he paid for all my groceries and anything else I needed. Dad was so generous; he was happy paying to give other people pleasure.

Dad met Bill for the first time. It was a foregone conclusion dad would like him. Bill being a tee totaling Methodist could have looked like the devil and that would have been okay with dad. They of course got on well. We were invited to tea at Aunty Rubies where Dad was staying, as Bill was leaving dad followed us out, we got as far as the gate where dad stopped and said "Um. Um... if you are... um... thinking of getting um... ar... married? I um... ar... will buy you a... um... ar... a house, there is one around the corner for sale; we'll have a look at it tomorrow if you like."

I was GOB SMACKED.

I was speechless.

I think Bill was too.

Marriage had never been discussed between us, what would Bill think?

I knew the house dad was talking about, a lovely stately gentleman's residence in a nearby street at Toorak Gardens owned by Mr. Roberts a neighbouring retired farmer from Penong who had recently died, so dad knew the house would soon be for sale. I can't remember how or who answered dad. I was more worried about putting Bill in an awkward situation. I was quite embarrassed.

It was agreed we would look at the Roberts home tomorrow. We did, but never made any decisions. I know I had no feelings for this home; maybe I was still in shock. Bill told dad he would like to look at some other homes.

"Okay. When you find one you like, let me know, I'll buy it for you."

I couldn't believe this was happening. I'm sure Bill couldn't believe it either.

I said to Bill "bbbut we aren't getting married; we haven't talked about marriage."

"I have been planning to ask you to marry me."

"It's not because of dad is it?"

"Of course not." he replied. "I love you."

He finally SAID it.

"I love you too. I have loved you since the day we met."

I was ecstatically happy, though very much in a state of shock.

We thought we should probably get engaged. We planned to buy an engagement ring the following Saturday. I arranged with Mr. Laws to have Saturday morning off work. My work mates had listened to the developments in my life; they were as excited as me.

"Of course you can have Saturday off Lovie, I'll see to it."

"Thank you so much Mr. Laws." He was in as big a tissy as I was, and as excited.

Before we went to the jeweller I asked Bill again "Are you sure? It's not just because of dad's offer is it?"

"No, I was planning to ask you to marry me."

I was beside myself with excitement. I couldn't contain myself. We went to a well-known Adelaide jewellery shop and chose a lovely ring with a constellation setting, a large diamond surrounded in a circle by smaller diamonds. I loved it.

At twilight that night Bill took me to Colonel William Light's statue overlooking the Torrens River, Adelaide Cricket Ground, Memorial Drive and the CBD, where he formally proposed.

Of course, I said "YES."

He put the shiny new engagement ring on my finger. I was filled with so much excitement and awe I thought I would explode.

Bill and me 1962 our engagement

Next day, Sunday at church I couldn't wait to break the wonderful news to all our friends. They were taken by surprise and happy for us, though stunned at how quickly all this had taken place. I felt like a poor little rich girl. I was the one suddenly in the hot seat receiving such unexpected good fortune. I really did feel like a poor little rich girl. Our betrothed coupled friends had been planning and saving for years to achieve what had been offered to us in an instance.

At work on Monday the reaction of my workmates was of utter amasement and awe. I earned a whole different mode of respect from them. Last week I was just an ordinary 'country bumpkin' this week I was engaged to get married with a grand house being bought for us. I couldn't contain my excitement. I really did think I would explode; I was on such a high.

I couldn't sleep because of excitement, I was becoming very tired, but still on a massive high. I had no idea how I could contain myself enough to go to sleep. The answer presented itself....

I was having terrible trouble with my toes, the ingrown toenails in both big toes had become badly infected and very sore; too sore to touch or administer any treatment on. It was painful walking even without shoes and virtually impossible to wear shoes especially the mandatory high heels for work. The toenails had to be surgically removed. In my high school days, I had ingrown toenails and twice had them surgically removed under a local anaesthetic, these operations were the most painful procedures I ever experienced I did not want to suffer such pain again. I asked Doctor if I could have a general anesthetic.

"Yes."

I was so relieved.

Good! I thought. I will at least get to sleep. I was to have the operation in Abergeldi Private Hospital on Portrush Road at St Georges. I loved being in hospital and so looking forward to the tender care offered and even the operation because it was becoming almost impossible to walk with such intense pain. I couldn't wait be rid of the nails that were digging into my inflamed toes, the slightest pressure was literally intolerable, besides I needed sleep.

I was still on a high. I couldn't help but brag to the nurses and any patients who would listen of my engagement and new home dad was buying for us.

As was the custom I was admitted to hospital the night before the operation. I would be there three days. Bill visited every night. I was content and looking forward to the rest and sleep.

I woke up after the operation with my two big toes minus the nails bandaged with a box over my feet to prevent the bedclothes from touching them. I never had any pain; the offending nails had been removed; it felt so good.

"How do they feel? "Doctor asked me.

"They haven't felt this good for a long time."

"Funny" doc replied "they all say that".

I went home rested, and pain free. I was able to wear shoes again.

I blamed the pointed toed high heeled shoes that were the fashion of those days as the cause of my toenails to in grow, the constant pressure on the toes squeezed into such pointed shoes with the added pressure from the stiletto heel was a sure recipe for ingrown toe nails. I blamed the bulky regulation school shoes as the cause for the same problem at high school. I have since learned from dear friend Jeanette, the cause of ingrown toenails is wearing shoes too small, she advised me to always buy shoes a size bigger than you think you need... IT WORKS.

Real estate in 1962 was in a slump. Australia was suffering a huge downturn in the economy. Houses weren't selling, there were many homes on the market, especially top of the range homes in the eastern suburbs. Our Sundays now involved looking at homes with every intention of buying one... well dad was buying it.

One young Real Estate Salesman spent many hours, week after week driving us around, showing us homes, the more we looked the fussier we seemed to get, he showed us homes in the eastern suburbs Hazelwood Park, Linden Park, Beaumont etc. with the asking price of around eight to ten thousand pounds saying "If you like any of them tell me and we'll make an offer. "This was my first introduction to real estate.

Our coupled friends were saving to build their homes on their block with a budget of two thousand pounds. I felt so privileged and couldn't contain myself. I was sailing...I was so excited I didn't realise I was alienating our friends with my over exuberance and good fortune. I never thought to contain myself in their presence. I related to them all the details of our house hunting, which was over whelming even to us.

We looked at many grand homes. We could have had any one we liked. Dad would buy it without question, but nothing seemed to suit us. We particularly wanted a staircase, we didn't care what was at the top of it; we just wanted a staircase, we also wanted established trees, we didn't want to wait years for trees to grow.

Our young agent was so patient he continued showing us homes without question, the more we looked the fussier we were getting and wondering if we would ever find a suitable home, we specifically wanted to buy a house from this accommodating agent, he deserved the sale.

We had spoken to a few agents during our weeks of house hunting they all knew we had 'the cash' to buy they often tried to tempt us with "a house just right for you."

Six weeks of searching for a home left us quite disillusioned when an agent we had briefly spoken to rang. "I have this home in Kensington Park you should look at, I know it's not the area you want to buy in, but its set behind lovely big trees, its two storey and only six thousand pounds."

"OK we'll have a look."

Kensington Park was an older suburb with mostly small modest homes, but a staircase and trees was the 'carrot'.

I rode my scooter to look at the Kensington Park home after work to save Bill the trouble, he had wasted so much time chasing around after homes that were supposedly "just right for you" that turned out to be a disappointment to us both.

What a pleasant surprise this home was, graciously situated behind large leafy trees was this rather grand imposing looking tuck pointed Carey Gully brick home with double doors from each room opening onto the elegant large front veranda, upstairs also had double doors opening from the landing and master bedroom on to the balcony and huge outdoor deck. We had seen nothing like it. I couldn't believe it. It looked just so perfect from the street.

"Let's look inside."

I was not disappointed.

The grand entrance opened into a huge lounge room with a gas fireside heater built into the feature wall at one end, also on the ground floor a large functional kitchen with an electric and wood stove, a large formal dining room off the kitchen lead into another large room through double doors, this room had its own entrance to the front veranda. A large laundry, pantry, toilet and back veranda completed downstairs. Up the staircase was another surprise, a landing bigger than most rooms, two huge bedrooms, the master with a wall of built in wardrobes and glass double doors opening onto the balcony, the bathroom was the biggest bathroom I had seen in a home. WOW!

"I want Bill to have a look at this."

The owners allowed me to ring him from their fixed phone. (No mobiles remember). He came straight away and was as amased as I was.

We had to have this home it was perfect for us and the price was much less than dad expected to pay.

The owners allowed us to phone dad, an expensive STD phone call. Dad was happy we had found something we liked and promised to put a one-thousand-pound cheque in the post for the deposit, and the balance at settlement. We signed and sealed the deal on the spot, not even dreaming to make a lower offer, we thought we had a bargain as it was.

We loved this property. The owners, a lovely older couple looking to downsize their home were thrilled for us, the agent was over the moon; he had secured a sale.

We were sorry for our young agent we apologised to him, he was very gracious. It was pleasing for us to watch this young man's progress as he became the owner of his own successful real estate business.

I collected dad's letter from the letter box with the one-thousand-pound cheque as I left for work. I had to get it to the agent directly after work; I asked Mr. Laws where it could be kept safe until? He flew into a flat spin at the sight of the cheque for this much money and said "Oh Lovie, you must take it to the office and ask them to look after it for you."

I thought it a bit of an over kill reaction but I was proud to be the centre of attention. Soon everyone in the Myer Bargain Basement knew I had a one thousand pound deposit for our new marital home. The same procedure occurred when the five thousand pound cheque arrived for the full payment.

My status in the Myer store rose beyond my belief, suddenly I wasn't insignificant little Eunice Freemen the 'hick waif' from the country, I was shown the greatest respect, even more so when I showed a photograph of our new home. an imposing building causing them to comment "Looks like flats." even when people saw it in reality, their reaction "Looks like flats.

It was only a fifteen-minute scooter ride and half hour bus ride to the CBD. The bus stop was at the end of the street on Magill Road amongst a sprinkling of shops including a small arcade with a grocery store. This home was in a good position for us.

Settlement date for our new home at 28 Corinda Ave Kensington Park was 30th June 1962. The agent assured us it was an ideal settlement date, the end of the financial year. This was my introduction to owning real estate.

Our first home at Kensington Park South Australia

# Chapter 6

## The Wedding

We were engaged, we had a home waiting for us; we should set a wedding date. I loved spring it heralded goodbye to cold weather and welcomed the warmer summer weather.

Spring is my most favourite season, not too cold or too hot. Saturday September 8th would allow us five months to prepare for the wedding. The date was set.

Of course it would be a typical Penong country wedding, everyone invited. I went into organising mode, Bill had very little input. I don't know that I gave him a choice.

We decided to get married in my church with Bill's Church's Minister to marry us. We made sure this was acceptable with the churches and their ministers. It was. We would be married in Unley Methodist Church where we had formed many friendships, especially with the members of the choir and tennis club.

It was a weird feeling many years later when I went to this church for dinner; it had been sold and cleverly converted into a unique popular restaurant.

We asked the minister from Maughan Church Rev. Keith Seaman to marry us, he was delighted to be asked and readily accepted.

We asked Mr. Stevens the organist and choir master of the church to play the pipe organ for the ceremony.

We asked Margaret the lead soprano of the choir if she would sing during the ceremony and reception.

We asked two tenors and two basses from the choir if they would sing a medley at the reception. These four guys often sang in four parts as a quartet unaccompanied, they were extra special and always well received.

We asked Diamond Studio Photography owners who attended this church if they would be the official photographers, their daughter was a friend. I was worried I would look fat in the wedding photos, they assured me they could nip out a bit of my waistline to give the impression I had a slim waist. I was happy about that.

I asked Ann a hairdresser friend who also sang in the choir to do our hair and makeup.

They all accepted with pleasure.

Of course, they were all invited to the reception, they were all friends anyway.

Rev Keith Seaman and Mr. Stevens the organist were entitled to name their fee but they offered their services as a wedding gift, what a wonderful gift, we really appreciated it. We invited their wives to also be guests at our wedding. The use of the church was also free to us, we were regular attendees.

Patsy nee Freeman (my cousin) and her husband Mateo had a catering business. We could not have managed without them. They were experienced with all aspects of catering and receptions, we were guided by their expert advice; they took over all our wedding reception arrangements it was a huge work load off my responsibilities which were considerate with mum and dad living so far away. Mum and dad would of course pay all the costs as was expected of the bride's parents, they were only too happy to pay whatever it cost... to get their wayward daughter safely wed.

First problem Pat and Matt encountered was finding a suitable venue, we wanted the reception venue to be near the church. It would have to be a venue big enough to hold two to three hundred guests. This dilemma caused Pat and Matt much anxiety, the only suitable venue they could find at such short notice was a rather drab hall at Goodwood near the Adelaide show grounds. Problem was, we had chosen the Royal Adelaide Show weekend for our wedding, parking would be of major concern competing with the show patrons for parking spaces. Pat was appalled we couldn't find a nicer venue; we didn't care we said "just go for it." Pat and Matt reluctantly accepted our reception would be in this dowdy hall, it was much nicer than the Penong hall, I couldn't see what they were concerned about.

Church, Minister, Reception organised, time to think about wedding clothes, of course I would make mine and the bridesmaid's frocks. I asked Glenys to be my matron of honour and Margaret to be my second bridesmaid. I had made her debutante gown without a fitting so I thought I could make her bridesmaids gown also without a fitting, she would be flying from Penong to Adelaide the day before the wedding so no opportunity for fittings. I must get it right, no time for alterations either.

The wedding only five months away and so much to organise! I knew I didn't have a lot of time to make frocks so I designed them to be classic, simple and well within my capabilities without too much unnecessary intricate work which would take up precious time.

My frock was of fine white silk with long fitted sleeves pointed over the wrist, and a firm fitted bodice, the waistline as small as I could shrink myself with the aid of expensive undergarments squeezing the fat wobbly bits firmly to my bones, a billowing skirt and train made bouffant with especially designed expansive layers of underskirt stiffening tulle from the back waistline with roses I hand-made of the same silk fabric trailing from the waist to the hemline down the centre back.

Bill had to do the fitting for me but only the bodice to make sure I had the waist as tight a fitting as possible the rest didn't need a fitting, I designed it so. Luckily it worked, I was able to keep the overall look of my gown a secret, only needing the one fitting and I was happy with the way the gown progressed and it fitted perfectly with no dramas. Most of the work turned out to be in the underskirts. "I must make sure they are noticed, I must lift up my skirts at every chance, like getting in and out of the limousine."

I chose musky pink fine shot silk for the bridesmaids. Their styles were similar to mine without the long sleeves and train and a smaller version of attached petticoats to achieve the same bouffant look as mine, both girls had matching stiletto heeled shoes and above elbow length kid gloves.

I wanted artificial flowers for our bouquets, my cousin Barbara made exquisite silk flowers, I asked if she would make the bouquets, she agreed after trying to talk me into having fresh flowers. No, I didn't want fresh flowers that would only last the day of the wedding; I wanted bouquets I could keep forever.

Bill's friend John Sander was best man and my brother Roger groomsman. They wore standard suits. Every man wore suits for most occasions in those days. Bill bought a new suit for our wedding, John had recently married so he would wear his near new wedding suit, Roger who was still growing at a rate of knots needed a new suit. Bill and Roger chose their suits to be as similar to John's suit as possible. Starched white shirts, ties to blend with the bridesmaid's frocks and fresh orange blossom in their lapels would complete their attire.

Bill's cousin had a small printing business, he did all our invites place cards and stationary work making it very special for us; we were so appreciative.

The bridal limousine we hired at an extravagant cost was the same Humber Queen Elizabeth was chauffeured around Adelaide when visiting Australia in 1954. It had a glass partition separating the driver from the passengers; the back of the limo was a spacious area with plenty of room for my bouffant expansive gown.

All these preparations were time consuming, especially as they had to be juggled around work. Mr. Laws was very co-operative allowing me to go home early if we weren't busy, this was a huge help.

I used every minute I could grab to sew our gowns. I was riding on a high at work all my colleagues were excited and rode the journey with me. I was a little bit naughty during this busy time, on days when I felt my time could be better spent at home making the gowns I rang in and said I was 'sick'. We were allowed five sick days a year with pay. I never stayed home when off colour, I figured I may as well be miserable at work rather than at home; luckily I was never really ill. I took my sick days when I felt good and could utilise the time which was invaluable; I made much progress with the gowns on these days.

I still tried to go to Bill's place each weekend and cook meals. Luckily tennis (a summer sport) season hadn't started so I had Saturday afternoons free. Sundays between going to church I realised I had to sew or else I just wouldn't get the frocks finished.

Sewing on Sunday was quite a dilemma for me I had never been allowed to do anything on Sundays, it was "a day of rest" I felt really guilty sewing on Sundays and only did what I felt was absolutely necessary and then only the menial tasks like time consuming hand sewing. Surely God would forgive me?

We decided I would move into our new home on settlement date June 30th thus saving on the rent I was paying Mrs. Coates. I gave her plenty of notice. I would terminate my lease on 14th July two weeks after settlement. Mrs. Coates was so ungracious in fact she was downright uncivil. I had imagined her sharing my happiness and good fortune, but no, she seemed anti toward me. I thought "I'm not going to let it worry me, she is only making herself miserable, let her be."

I carried on doing what I had to do while trying unsuccessfully to placate her.

It only took a week to settle into our new home with my belongings using Bill's ute. I worked tirelessly to leave my flat as clean as possible, I knew Mrs. Coates would be picky but I was determined she would find no reason to 'pick' fault. I was very proud of my clean-up job. I still had a week of my lease left when I told Mrs. Coates I had moved all my things and would now be staying at our new home.

"Come here!" she said as she led me into the flat, I wondered why she wanted me in there. We walked in the kitchen she shut the door behind us and with her walking stick pointed to the door strengthening timbers on the back of the door.

"There!" she said "you haven't cleaned the flat."

I was speechless, in my wildest dreams I would never had thought of cleaning this hidden ledge which, yes was very dusty. She had obviously been snooping in the flat while we were moving which I wasn't happy about.

"How dare you accuse me of not cleaning, I have not left yet, I have a paid week's rent left to do the final cleaning, but I know I can never please you, so I will leave now and you can use this week's rent to get someone to clean to your satisfaction."

I walked out and never spoke to her again. Silly selfish possessive woman, our relationship didn't have to finish on such a sour note. I had visions of her being a special guest at our wedding; her jealous possessiveness didn't allow that to happen.

It was a wonderful feeling moving into our marital home, our very own home, a dream I could never have visualised fulfilling, Adelaide to me was like paradise and here I was in our own home in Adelaide. Bill of course wouldn't move in until we were married it simply was not acceptable to live together before marriage.

The previous owners left our new home spotlessly clean, the garden was in immaculate condition, not a weed to be seen. A newly planted vegetable garden was an absolute bonus with flourishing seedlings of assorted vegetables that grew quickly into mature plants as we watched. What a wonderful start the previous owners had given us, a great introduction to ownership of real estate. We tendered this garden with much love and care and really enjoyed the rewards of the fresh produce we picked.

I had no furniture. Bill had previously bought two antique style lounge chairs for his mother and had made her a china cabinet which he brought to our new home. Mr. Gourlay bought a new fridge and gave us his old one, a Kelvinator with rounded corners and the freezer compartment just large enough to fit two small ice cream trays, a flash fridge in those days. We bought the latest laminex and chrome kitchen table and four chairs for the kitchen.

The wall of 'built-ins' in the master bedroom had a mirrored dressing table above a double set of drawers between the wardrobes so we only needed to buy a bed to complete the bedroom. We bought a double ensemble at Myer, a deluxe one which cost a ridiculous amount of money but considerably cheaper with staff discount; we figured we'd be spending a good half of our days in it so we would have 'the best'.

The Figurine

Dad and Roger drove their truck to Adelaide with my bits of furniture, my 'glory box', a linen press cupboard, my single bed and bedding for our second bedroom and my piano. This piano was a family heirloom from dad's father and willed to me. Dad had used the front-end loader on the tractor to load it onto the truck, getting it off the truck and into our lounge was a major task even with all the muscled men we could muster. It fitted perfectly in the alcove under the staircase, it looked just right there.

Bill loved quality, not only quality cars and lifestyle but old exquisite furniture, paintings and figurines, I was in awe of his tastes and also grew to love beautiful, exquisite things, things I had never really known existed, things that weren't sold from catalogues. Our family only ever bought goods that were necessary and practical.

Bill had shown me in Myer a particularly lovely expensive china figurine of a gracious lady on a settee with the man lovingly holding her hand, all beautifully crafted in Victorian style. While dad was in Adelaide I mentioned the figurine to him hoping he would also see the beauty in it. Dad's idea of beauty was acres of cleared land suitable for cropping.

He wasn't impressed but said "If you like it I'll buy it for you."

Next day he came home from Myer by public transport, the bus was crowded, he had no choice but to stand all the way with the figurine precariously tucked under his arm in a paper bag. He proudly presented us with figurine in the paper bag; to our amasement it was totally intact. I still have that figurine and still love it.

We were lucky to have everything we needed for comfortable living. Bill came after work each night, I cooked dinner and was happy and content and so looking forward to being married.

Of course, we had to try out the new bed, we enjoyed lots and lots of heavy petting in this bed but definitely still no penetration. I was still brainwashed in being a virgin on my wedding night. I was glad I didn't have to get up and go home as Bill did every night... after he got his rocks off within his underpants; no chance of becoming pregnant with semen being strained through cotton interlock undies.

I lived in our home for two months before we married. I'm sure everyone thought we were doing everything unmarried couples shouldn't do! Wrong! I was saving myself for our wedding night. Bill accepted this without question. We enjoyed very heaving petting but NO penetration; I was saving and looking forward to complete sexual intercourse on our wedding night when I would be free of all moral obligations to be 'chaste'. I WOULD FINALLY BE FREE!

These two months of living in our new home, entertaining our friends and families, the wedding preparations, working at Myer, all passed in a euphoric blur. I was on a massive euphoria high.

Pat and Matt had the reception in hand, we were very happy with their professional approach and professionalism they applied just for us. The menu they chose seemed so lavish we country folks had never heard of some of the dishes or imagined such a lavish presentation as they had planned. Country food was fresh and wholesome with little thought for presentation. I was excited to have the opportunity to present such a menu for our 250 guests.

Much to the disgust of Pat and Matt there of course would be no alcohol at our reception. Most of our relatives and friends were teetotallers, but some weren't. Pat and Matt thought there should be some alcohol for those who did partake of alcohol. I knew mum and dad wouldn't consider providing alcohol. I was right, when Patsy who could usually charm dad into her way of thinking, confronted dad he flatly refused. Patsy declared "We'll have wine glasses for every place setting anyway, and sparkling apple cider for the toasts."

I knew mum and dad wouldn't even drink water out of a wine glass. They didn't.

Bill in stoic sincerity suggested to me we shouldn't spend so much money on a wedding, we should get married quietly with no fuss and spend the money on a honeymoon in the Whitsunday Islands. I knew mum and dad would never agree to that, they would never hand over money equivalent to the wedding costs for us to waste on a honeymoon. A wedding was a show of pride that their daughter was getting married and the costs were irrelevant. I knew Bill didn't like to attract attention to himself, he preferred to remain unnoticed in a crowd.

Bill mentioned a few times over these months he would much prefer a small informal family wedding. I dismissed the idea. I couldn't comprehend anyone not wanting a full-on showy wedding. I certainly did, I wanted to live my dream, be the 'star' for the day. I happily went ahead with planning our wedding.

It was so much easier finishing the wedding gowns in our new home with plenty of room to spread out, they and my long three-tiered veil were almost finished, though it was such a busy time it was very fulfilling. I just couldn't believe it was all happening to little ol' me. I was getting married with a lovely home to live in. I continually felt like a 'poor little rich girl'.

Time to buy the wedding ring! I was a bit put out; Bill flatly refused to wear a ring he insisted it was too dangerous for cabinet makers to wear rings because they could become caught in the machines. He also jokingly (I thought) said "I may as well have a ring through my nose as on my finger."

As was custom in those days we had a meeting with the officiating minister Rev Seaman before the wedding. We assumed he would tell us about the birds and the bees and wondered what he had to say. He said nothing about birds and bees, just about commitment and faith and stuff. "He must know me better than I thought he did." Bill said.

Glenys hosted a 'Kitchen Evening' for me a couple of weeks before the wedding. Because couples never lived together before marriage 'Kitchen Evenings' were a means of setting up newlyweds with kitchen equipment for their new home. Tupperware at this time was the hot new invention, parties were held where the innovative products were demonstrated and sold.

These parties were popular as was the product, being practical I decided I would like my 'Kitchen Evening' to be a Tupperware party. We had a lovely time, I received lots of Tupperware, and I bought some as well. The selling point of Tupperware was "A lifetime guarantee or replacement."

This has proven to be true. I still have some of the original Tupperware I got back in 1962. I have also been to recent Tupperware parties and had my slightly damaged pieces readily replaced.

The wedding day was nearing. Everything was in order. Bill hadn't met mum, he often said to friends "You should always check the mother of your bride out to see what you are marrying; daughters are a clone of their mother."

I thought he was joking.

Dad and mum arrived a week before the wedding, so Bill didn't meet mum until the week we got married, she was very gracious to him, she was happy, she was a different mum from the one I knew. She was obviously relieved I was at last committed to a sensible sober minded church going guy. I was happy she was happy because she projected a good image to Bill.

The Saturday before our wedding we published in the Advertiser Social pages 'Approaching Weddings' the details of our wedding including our names and our parent's names. Bill and I were both surprised to get a phone call from an Aunty of Bill's he didn't know existed, his father's sister Aunt Gertrude. Bill believed he was the last living Hoad.

We visited Aunt Gertrude in her rented two rooms in a huge grand mansion on Victoria Drive at Hyde Park, an elderly lady obviously living meagrely but with allusions of grandeur. She had lived in these rooms for many years on a fixed low rental and here she was going to stay for the rest of her days.

She told Bill there was a family dispute before he was born and his dad was ostracised from the family. She refused to say any more about the dispute.

"You don't need to know. What you don't know is best."

Aunt Gertrude told Bill of her two sons his cousins, both farmers on Kangaroo Island with their wives and children, she hastened to add one of their sons "attended Timbertop College at Geelong, the college Prince Charles Windsor attended."

Aunt told Bill (I can't remember these cousins names) "They are your only living cousins, they should be at your wedding, they are entitled to attend. "I was stunned.

"We don't have room for any more guests all the seating has been arranged."

"Surely you can squeeze them in a corner somewhere." she insisted.

We did. We reshuffle the seating to accommodate them, only to be told the day before the wedding only one cousin and his wife would be attending.

It turned out this family were opportunists having fallen on hard times. They gave themselves airs and graces which didn't impress my family one bit; when they saw our wedding notices in the social pages of the Advertiser they wrongly assumed acceptance into our family... and fortunes. The final straw with our association with them happened not long after our wedding; one of the cousins rang dad and mum at the farm begging for quite a substantial loan of money. I, Bill and Mr. Gourlay were absolutely appalled. Dad is a bit of a soft touch I said "You didn't, did you?"

" _No!"_

I took mum to Rundle Street to buy her outfit, she had only ever bought clothes from a catalogue. She normally wore sensible basic good quality clothes, but I wanted her to wear something modern and stylish and coaxed her into a posh boutique in Rundle Street, I could sense she was apprehensive. I had talked to the owner earlier and she knew the situation, she took over; with my absolute approval she chose a fashionable lime green linen ensemble, a slim fitting frock and same length matching coat which she cajoled mum into trying on.

Wow! Mum was transformed, I couldn't believe how becoming she looked, nor could mum. A perfectly matching very modern lime green beehive shaped hat covered in delicate small flowers added to the transformation, bone leather shoes, fashionable handbag and bone kid gloves completing her outfit.

Mum and dad loved our home and thought it an extremely good buy, they slept in the master bedroom I in the spare bedroom, Bill visited at respectable times; everyone was contented and happy. Mum was very happy and almost serene. I was over the moon. We planned to spend our honeymoon in Mt Gambier, we could leisurely drive there after the wedding, we had our bags packed ready to go straight from the reception.

Bill hadn't bought any new clothes since his mother had died, she always bought his clothes, he especially needed underwear he needed to upgrade the interlock wide legged underpants (like my dad's). I offered to buy him clothes from work because "I get 10% house discount." He was grateful and gave me the money. I bought trendy clothes including the new Y front underpants. I washed ironed and packed them in his case along with all his clothes ready for our honeymoon. _Silly me! I found myself forever doing this._

The day before the wedding all was in order everything checked and double checked. My cousin Dorothy was arranging the flowers in the church. She was concerned about what flowers were available in dusty pink shades. She used branches of plum, nectarine and peach spring blossoms. When I walked into the church it looked a wonderland, she had created a dreamy transformation.

The night before our wedding, I was stressed and tense, not that anything particular was worrying me, I was so overcome with the awe and excitement of my wedding.

I knew I had to relax myself somehow, the best way was some heavy petting with Bill; it couldn't be in our bed or in our home with mum and dad there. We went for a drive parked and each 'relaxed each other' in the most natural way. Still no penetration!

I didn't sleep very well that night, my last night as a single girl. I heard the milkman delivering milk to our front veranda at 4am. The milk in those days was delivered in bulk; it was ladled into a tin billycan by the pint, money put in the can depicted how many pints was required. I raced out to the milky this my wedding morning and blurted out "I am getting married today."

Poor fellow, he looked stunned but said "Congratulations have a nice day."

"Thankyou."

The weather on this our wedding day looked to be a lovely fine day. My period had arrived this morning with a vengeance, it wasn't due just yet, but I was told this often happened to a bride on her wedding day. "Oh well I'll cope!" at least my whole body seemed to be in a relaxed state because of my system ridding itself of its waste, to say nothing of the relaxant orgasm I'd enjoyed the night before.

We girls dressed at our home, the boys dressed at Bill's then joined us where most of the photos could be taken before we went to the church. Ann, my hair -dresser friend arrived first. She was a huge help, I will never forget her professional approach and competent handling of all the issues which arose during this day. Apart from doing our hairs, makeup and fitting our head pieces, she fussed over dad, he loved it; he had never had a lady tying his tie or fussing over orange blossom in his lapel and checking for specks on his new suit.

Ann to my surprise coaxed mum into wearing a smear of lipstick and rouge. Mum had never worn either and objected until Ann somehow convinced her.

"Just a hint of lippy and some colour on your cheeks. Now you look lovely, have a look in the mirror."

She looked stunning, I had never seen mum dressed in such fashionable clothes; and certainly, never with colour on her face; she was transformed. In fact, mum actually stole the show, everyone expected me to look stunning, but no-one expected mum to look so 'with it' and lovely.

The bridesmaids also looked beautiful the frocks fitting perfectly including Margaret's who never had a fitting.

The happiest I ever saw mum and dad

Bill, his best man John and groomsman Roger arrived all looking very handsome especially Bill, I was so lucky to be marrying such a handsome good man. We broke tradition by having the groom and his attendants together with the bride and her attendants before the wedding ceremony for group photos. I didn't care about tradition this is what we both wanted.

The photographer arrived and took many photographs in and around our home, he agreed having the whole bridal party together before the ceremony was a good idea, it settled the bride's nerves, and saved time between the ceremony and reception which were only an hour apart.

We made our way to the church in the limousines. Dad and I were regally sitting in the back of the Humber I felt like waving to everyone as the Queen waves to her people, it just seemed the proper thing to do. We arrived at the church, there were people everywhere, even the press; our photo would be in the social pages on Monday. I was in a daze; the moment I had dreamed of for many years but never believed it would really happen, was actually happening; right now.

Dad, me, Glenys, Margaret leaving home for the church

Dad walked me down the aisle of the flower filled Unley Methodist church accompanied by the beautiful pipe organ music of The Bridal March played by Mr. Stevens. I didn't comprehend too much, I could see Bill facing the alter waiting along with Rev Seaman who was facing me; I wanted Bill to see me coming down the aisle, he didn't look around till I was at his elbow; this is how it was then.

The ceremony passed in a blur, we said our vows, the standard vows of the sixties.

I promised to "love and obey till death do us part."

Bill promised to "love protect and provide for me and our children till death do us part."

Bill put the wedding ring on my finger, hymns sung, prayers said.

The veil was taken from my face, we tenderly kissed. We were married.

We went out to the vestry to sign the marriage certificates.

Margaret's beautiful soprano voice entertained our guests.

We exited the church to the melodious piped organ music of Handel's Wedding March played by Mr. Stevens whose music had entertained our guests throughout the afternoon.

Much excitement, photos, congratulations followed. It was all so confronting and overwhelming. Finally, the bridal party was able to depart to the reception hall for more photos before the guests arrived.

Married! On the steps of the church, Roger, Margaret, Bill, me, Glenys John.

Pat and Matt had transformed the drab hall with potted palms and bowls of flowers. I noticed at each place setting there was a wine glass.

"What would mum and dad think?"

The guests arrived. Pat and Matt played perfect hosts along with their professional staff.

The meal was sumptuous.

The formal toasts and speeches were done.

I could read disappointment in some of the guests, no alcohol.

As I thought mum wouldn't drink out of a wine glass, she requested water tumblers for her and dad, she wouldn't even try the apple cider; it looked too much like alcohol.

Items were sung by our talented choir friends.

The tables were cleared away to make room for dancing.

Bill and I started the bridal waltz, soon everyone joined in except mum and dad who enjoyed watching.

I felt like exploding with happiness and anticipation for what I had been waiting for many years for, consummation fully of our marriage.

First I had to change out of my wedding gown into my 'going away' clothes, a white two piece frock and coat ensemble I made, complimented by an expensive white hat, black patent shoes, bag and kid gloves. We had changed at the photographer's home conveniently near the reception hall.

Auld Lang Sine was sung; we were showered and filled (see pic)with confetti as we said our goodbyes and were sent off amid much laughter with many good wishes.

Roger had been assigned to look after Bill's ute to see it wasn't sabotaged by our friends; he drove us in Dad's car to where he had Bill's ute hidden, packed and ready for our quick get-a-way. It worked; we got into the ute and headed off safely to our secret destination the motel at Eagle on the Hill not too far away and on the route to our honeymoon destination Mt. Gambier.

We couldn't wait to get into bed. The fact I was menstruating was forgotten. The sensation of penetration was wonderful, but it was over far too soon, I wanted more. There wasn't more just now, I will wait till later.

Next morning, I saw Bill without an erection for the first time, I couldn't believe the penis usually so erect and large could disappear as it had this morning. It reminded me of a joke I had heard "You didn't leave much for today did you?"

Leaving the motel next morning I felt so embarrassed about the disgustingly bloodied towels and sheets and the room all splattered with confetti; our clothes were full of confetti including my hat's upturned brim. I never returned to that motel again. I would not have been able to face them.

We drove to Mt. Gambier where we stayed in a modest motel, did the usual honeymoon site seeing things. It must have been obvious we were honeymooners; people seemed to recognise honeymooners and treated us accordingly. I had heard that a honeymoon is sometimes a disappointment after all the hype of the wedding. I was determined ours wasn't going to be so... but I suffered severe constipation and needed regular laxatives. The laxatives weren't doing their job, I became very constipated even though I took more than usual. I hadn't used my bowels for two weeks I was feeling bloated and nauseous, so much so I went to the doctor.

"You should be admitted to hospital."

We begged not to be; instead he gave me some stronger laxatives and warned "If they haven't worked by tomorrow you'll have to be admitted to hospital."

I think those words literally scared... the shit out of me.

I didn't want to go to hospital on my honeymoon.

I shitted all day instead! Good. I felt almost normal again.

We made love every night, but I felt something was missing, I didn't know what. It was a fore gone conclusion we wouldn't start a family 'just yet'. Withdrawal before ejaculation was the only means of birth control, except during certain periods of the menstrual cycle when it was considered 'safe'. One of those periods was just before, during and after menstruation I thought it was a gift from God when I started menstruating on my wedding day providing a 'safe period' while we were on our honeymoon.

Bill was a tentative lover, but it all seemed to be over as I was just starting to really enjoy our love making. I couldn't wait for the next time we made love... again it was over much too soon... I would be patient until next time... and so it went on. I craved something more I always seemed to be left in limbo ... maybe next time?

I was looking forward to going back to our home, checking out our wedding presents and really living together as husband and wife. When we finally arrived home I expectantly said to Bill "Are you going to carry me over the thresh hold?"

He picked me up just as they did in the movies (how romantic) and carried me inside; then literally dropped me. As I staggered to my feet he said "Now this is where I take over!"

I was quite taken aback.

I had arranged a wedding to suit our family; Bill had no choice but to go along with our plans though it wasn't his idea of a wedding. 'I must remember my marriage wows.' "Love and OBEY."

Mum and dad stayed in our home until just before we arrived home, they left the whole property in a very tidy state looking lovely and welcoming. Mum had gone to a lot of trouble making the double bed up with our new linen and placing flowers along with a cutting from a magazine on the pillows. The magazine cutting was a moving poem from a mother to her new bride daughter. I was so touched I cried. This was the most love mum ever showed me.

Our wedding pictures were published in the social pages of the Advertiser these pictures brought more of Bill's relatives to light, another cousin he didn't know existed, Aileen contacted us.

We attended a family reunion where we met more of Bill's relatives, he had no idea there were so many Hoads. I was surprised how extroverted they all were, I decided Bill was a ring-in in the Hoad family, he was definitely the quietest.

I loved and joined in the frivolity we enjoyed at this Hoad reunion. I was surprised Bill seemed reserved and not as interested in his newfound family as I was.

As time passed we lost touch with his family. I was disappointed.

# Chapter 7

## Married Life

Time passed. We both went back at our jobs, Bill in his ute, me on my scooter, the hype of our engagement, new home, wedding, honeymoon, all forgotten as we settled into a routine. I was so looking forward to a long happy life together so was taken aback when we were approached by a travelling salesman selling plots in the new cemetery at Enfield.

"We've just got married and don't plan on requiring a cemetery plot for many years."

"You never know when an accident can happen and it's prudent to buy now while we are offering plots at a reduced price."

In those days everyone needed a burial plot, cremation wasn't an option; although the salesman went on and on we declined to buy, eventually he left us alone. In hindsight had we bought I know we wouldn't have read the fine print... you buy the plot for fifty years only, with the right to repurchase or forego!!! We definitely made the right decision.

The reality of having Bill living with me all day and night took some getting used to. Arriving home each night after work then having to cook dinner and clean up, as well as breakfast before work, as well as doing all his washing, as well as cleaning the house, took its toll on me. I was so busy my life was mundane and same as same as. I hadn't realised the extra work being 'married' involve, there was no time or energy left to do anything else, except lovemaking which I looked forward to, wondering, and hoping it would be 'tonight'.

Bill had told me "If you ever hold out on me, I'll get it somewhere else."

I'd never deprive him of sex, I liked it too much.

All the same I never forget that threat.

I never ever brushed off Bill's advances; quite the contrary always expectantly hoping the elusive culmination of our lovemaking would be 'this time'.

The tennis season was approaching; of course, I wasn't going to play tennis now I was married, my husband didn't play so I wouldn't either. My team members were disappointed they expected me to continue playing tennis in the team but Saturday afternoons was my only opportunity to do the washing and cleaning etc. so I didn't really have the time, Sundays was a day of rest when we visited family and attended church.

I noticed our young, coupled friends from the church weren't as friendly as they had been, we didn't get invited to as many social outings as usual, soon all invites stopped. These friends were still madly saving for their homes. I blamed myself. I hadn't handled my sudden rise from rags to riches very well I should have been humbler than I was. I had been carried away with all the unexpected good fortune and excitement bestowed upon me.

We didn't see these friends very often now; in fact, we rarely saw any friends; come to think of it we didn't have many friends. Bill had four mates all married and with their first child. Two of his mate's wives during the birth of their child had difficult labours and were left physically handicapped for life. A third mate developed kidney trouble and died leaving a young wife and two young sons. The fourth mate John, best man at our wedding, was busy with his job his wife and their young baby. These mates and their families had their own lives to live and were too busy to spend time socialising with us.

I still had my scooter, it provided me with independence, not that I wanted to do anything independent of Bill, but it was very handy for going to work and it saved me the inconvenience of walking waiting and catching a bus. I loved my scooter.

There were no large shopping centres or supermarkets in those days the main shopping areas were along the main streets of Glenelg, Port Adelaide, Semaphore and Norwood. The nearest to us was Norwood, each shop individually specialised with its own small street frontage on the Parade. Butchers, green grocers, grocery, shoes, hardware, fabrics shops lined the main street of the shopping precincts and the proprietors knew their customers by name.

All shops and businesses were open at the same time, it was a juggle for full time employees including me to do any shopping forcing us to shop in our place of employment. Sunday all shops were closed except a family owned green grocer shop on Norwood Parade which had special rights to open Sunday morning to sell the Sunday paper. This popular shop owned by Koronis's a Greek family; mum, dad their three sons and wives took turns to work in the shop and baby sit their children, it was a pleasure to shop in this busy shop with the family obviously all in harmony with each other. They knew their customers and served each one with consideration, choosing the best produce on the shelf, so unlike other shops that carelessly put inferior products in your bag.

There were no supermarkets in those days where you chose your product, all shops were served by the assistant over the counter behind which the products were displayed; you were at the mercy of the assistant as to the quality of produce you were given consequently everyone tried to charm the assistants especially when buying fruit and vegetables.

The Koronis family made each customer feel special and what I thought was really special they always rounded the bill down, pennies to even shillings. This generosity was the best advertising and public relations exercise; of course, we always shopped there. (I never forgot this simple gesture.)

At times when travelling to Aldinga we stopped high on the hill out of Adelaide at a large popular fruit and vegetable stall. It stood alone and traded on weekends, they were always busy; so busy they briskly rushed you through chucking produce in your bag waving it over the scales and pulling the cost seemingly out of the air. People paid their stated total without qualm or receipts.

I was suspicious and remembered what I was charged and weighed the produce at home confirming my suspicions, I had been grossly overcharged. I was so cross but of course it was too late and too far to go back and confront them. I set a plan. Next time we went to Aldinga I put my scales in the car and checked my purchase costs before we left the stalls.

As I suspected! Grossly overcharged again! I was angry! I marched back to the packed stall and in my loudest voice (you can be sure everyone heard) I warned all the customers

"These assistants are rogues watch out for them, they give you under weigh and over charge".

I then turned to the staff and made them weigh my goods again and told them what they had charged me, everyone could see my warning was valid. The assistants couldn't refund what was due to me quick enough; as I left I called out

"These premises need watching. Beware."

We never went there again. Should never have gone there in the first place!

We were financially quite secure. It was my job to handle all the finances. Bill gave me his wages each week, we combined incomes, there was no his and hers it was all ours. I did the banking paid the bills and did all the shopping. Although we had no official mortgage we had verbally agreed to pay back to my parents an amount we could afford at the end of each month. I just couldn't accept dad giving us so much. We had agreed on a nominal interest rate of 1%. We (well I) could not accept them just buying us a home as a gift.

We still had money in the bank; I still had the original five hundred pounds dad had deposited in my bank account when I lived at the farm. Bill also had an inheritance from his dad for five hundred pounds he had used some of it to pay the costs and taxes of our new home, even after we paid dad a nominal amount each month we were still able to bank a little each week from our wages.

Bill suggested as we were so financially blessed we donate to someone less fortunate; his boss said she knew of a needy young family who we agreed to help. Money was taken out of Bill's pay each week for many years, we were never allowed to meet the family or even know who they were. You reap what you sew." Bill reminded me.

Remembering this now I wonder????

Occasionally we'd go to the movies. I still fell asleep even in the movies I enjoyed, it was so annoying. We usually sat in the back row so I could rest my head on the wall behind the seats. One night I was so tired Bill drove me home at half time then returned to watch the second movie. How embarrassing? What sort of wife was I?

One dreadfully hot windy summer day Bill wanted me to have a look at "This wonderful car I found for sale in a car yard."

It was a Bentley. I had never heard of Bentleys, but he assured me it was a special car and was lucky to have found it.

Bill loved English cars, his first car was a Riley he loved that car and only sold it when Holden invented the ute a far more practical car for a cabinetmaker.

Bill was excited to find this Bentley. "It is fifteen years old and only costs..."

I can't remember the cost of it, but I thought it was a lot of money for such an old car.

He proudly took me for a test drive. To me it looked like an old car, it creaked like an old car; the hot dusty north wind didn't enhance the test drive experience. I had always been associated with new cars. I couldn't believe Bill could consider trading his ute for such an old creaky car. I knew mum and dad would think buying a car like this 'a waste of money'. We didn't buy it.

Wendy a girl I worked with was getting married, she didn't have a lot of money, her family and friends were folks we had never met, I asked if she would like to borrow my wedding frock and veil? No-one at her wedding was at ours so no-one would know it was my wedding gown. She was delighted and readily accepted. I had no sentimental attachment to the frock; I was happy for it to be used as much as possible. I had my husband, the frock was an aside.

Wendy invited us to her wedding as a thank you. We accepted. I was looking forward to a social outing.

It was a small wedding, the bride looked radiant and lovely; it was a thrill for me to see my wedding gown in use once again. At the reception alcohol was flowing freely. Bill didn't partake of alcohol at all, I, only the occasional alcoholic fruit drink at work Xmas parties I couldn't see anything wrong with having a social drink even though Dad's words come clearly to my mind. "Your first drink is your downfall."

"I am married now I can do what I please."

I thought maybe a drink of alcohol would brighten Bill up a bit, I urged him to have a small beer; eventually he did. That was the beginning of us drinking alcohol together though only on rare social occasions.

Bill never went to the hotel and drank at the bar like most guys. It was the norm for guys to call into the pub on their way home from work each day, usually staying until the pub closed at 6pm. I was grateful Bill didn't, he always came straight home from work, my parents would not have approved anyway, they wouldn't have approved of us smoking cigarettes either. but we did. It was total sophistication to smoke, extensive advertising said so.

Another girl at work was getting married. I offered to sell her my wedding gown and veil. She was absolutely delighted with the deal, so was I. I had made money out of my wedding gown, all the work that went into the gown wasn't in vain. I didn't want to store the gown forever: for what.....? Some people cut off the train turning the frock into a ball gown I couldn't imagine us ever going to a ball. I would never have the need for a ball gown. Those who cut off the train often made a christening gown out of it for their babies I still had some remnants from my gown which I could use to make a christening gown if I was ever lucky enough to have children. I was pleased with myself for making a profit from my wedding outfit.

Our first Xmas as a married couple we went back to the farm to stay with mum and dad. This was Bill's first visit to Eyre Peninsular and our farm. I was looking forward to showing him where I was raised.

Mum went to a lot of trouble setting up the spare bedroom, she had pushed the two single beds together and made them up as one, we appreciated that thought. She also took a lot of trouble with Xmas lunch dad and Roger exerted themselves as hosts. Everything was laid on to impress my new husband though it was a sombre lunch, no frivolity and definitely no alcohol.

New Year's Day the annual social sports day at Pt Sinclair followed by the dance at night in Penong Hall was an important social event the locals looked forward to with great excitement.

I was especially excited because I would be proudly showing off my handsome husband to all the locals who in turn would be curious and anxious to meet him and no doubt spread opinions.

I didn't partake in any of the sports events as I had done in the past even though every able body usually competed. Bill wouldn't join in, he wasn't a competitive person and he had very fair skin and wouldn't expose himself to the sun so I sat with him in the shade; we would do everything together in our marriage, if he didn't want to compete then I wouldn't either. I spent a very different New Year's Day that year compared to all the previous years, I proudly stayed by my husband's side.

It was inevitable we come face to face with Ted, he in beach gear in the middle of summer was so tanned he was almost aboriginal black. I had never seen him so dark he always kept out of the sun he didn't like to look indigenous. I had forgotten all about Ted then remembered the last words he had said to me "I'll come back next holiday and try again."

I was married before his next holiday.

Oh dear oh me. I hadn't given Ted a thought.

Ted I am sorry. You were probably my best friend as a single girl/woman. I will never forget your kindness and understanding. Thank you so much.

I briefly as possible introduced Bill to Ted then we moved on.

Bill hissed to me "No wonder your parents didn't like him, he's black."

I never thought of him as 'black' I thought he was tall dark and handsome.

During the day the locals, all friends came and chatted all the while sussing Bill out. Bill being a shy guy was overcome with so much attention drawn to him; he was concerned when many people said to him "You have quietened Eunice down. How did you do it?"

"Whatever were you like before?" He worriedly asked me.

Everyone was excitedly talking about the dance that night.

"You are coming aren't you?" we were asked.

"Of course, we wouldn't miss it."

I was looking forward to going with Bill and dancing the night away. We went home for dinner and change for the dance, I had a special frock I had made for the occasion ironed and ready. I was looking forward to going back to Penong for the dance. Bill liked dancing and we hadn't been to a dance together since we met, this was our chance. As I started getting ready Bill said "I don't want to go to the dance."

WHY?"

"I don't know anybody they are all your friends."

He was adamant. I didn't pursue the issue, as disappointed as I was I thought it was lovely he wanted me all to himself. I knew mum and dad would whole heartedly approve of the effect Bill had on me. I was in love and would do anything for and with my husband that made him happy.

January this year 1963 mum and dad came to Adelaide for their holidays, they stayed with us. They planned to take Bill and me to Mt Gambier in the latest model Holden they had just bought. I was coasting on cloud nine. I guess Bill was too, we had been showered with so much, it was all so overwhelming. Mr. Gourlay who worked at Scott Bonner a lawn mower business also spoilt us, he had given us a top of the range Scott Bonner Mower for our wedding present, a very efficient vacuum cleaner for Christmas and a Kenwood Chef Mixer for my birthday in February. I felt so lucky and blessed. (I still have the Kenwood Chef Mixer and use it regularly), now mum and dad were taking us on a holiday.

Before we left for Mt. Gambier we discovered the humble home next door was coming onto the market it was run down surely selling at a bargain price. Bill and dad conferred, dad said he would buy it for us and made a ridiculous cash offer direct to the owner before it went on the market: the offer was accepted. We were to be the proud owners of No 26 Corinda Ave Kensington Park for the bargain price of fifteen hundred pounds. I thought this was money far better spent than spending similar money on a old creaky Bentley car.

We had a lovely trip and holiday to Mt Gambier which didn't cost us a cent, dad paid for the motel rooms and all meals as well as fuel. Bill got to drive the new Holden for much of the way, he was happy. I enjoyed this holiday more than our honeymoon. When we arrived home settlement on No 26 took place. Dad and mum helped clean up the property before they went home to the farm. The house itself was basic with no improvements done for many years. The walls were badly cracked, this was usual in Adelaide as most homes are built on Bay of Biscay soil and prone to cracking. We wondered what we would do with the property, it should have been bulldozed. We decided to rent it out as it was, with the rent priced accordingly. It would be money for nothing virtually. We sought advice from Bill's cousin Aileen who leased out a few of her properties. There was no governing body controlling leasing then. Some tips Aileen gave us:-

Don't let the tenants get behind in their rent, they will never be able to catch up, it's easier for them to shoot through than pay back rent.

Don't overcharge, the tenants could take revenge.

Keep the rent a little below the average the tenants will respect you and the property more.

Always get a deposit and use it for breakages, not lost rent.

Don't expect tenants to do any gardening, even if they say the will, tenants walk over weeds growing in their paths rather than pull them out.

Be careful who you rent to married couples are the best. Single guys are okay they tend to go out for entertainment.

Never let to a single girl, they bring their boyfriends home that's when the trouble starts.

We put a small Ad in the Advertiser. The response was overwhelming. One of the first people to inspect the property was a well-dressed young family driving a late model car; we thought they would want something nicer to live in. NO. They wanted to rent this property.

Fred and Marlene Burns and their two young children had just sold their home in Broken Hill and invested in a rundown delicatessen around the corner. They didn't care what they lived in they would be at the deli most of the time they just wanted somewhere cheap to sleep until they built the deli into a profitable business.

We were so lucky to be introduced into the real estate rentals business with such excellent tenants who became good friends as well as neighbours. The Burns family to me were my role models. Fred and Marlene were obviously still very much in love with a lovely young pigeon pair family.

"We are more in love now after ten years of marriage than ever" they declared.

I thought that was so wonderful. I knew we would feel the same after ten years of marriage. Bill jokingly said "It takes ten years to train a wife. Why change?"

We were thrilled to be associated with this lovely family.

A few weeks into Fred and Marlene lease, Marlene's sister Maxine and her husband Bernie James moved in with Fred and Marlene, they were joint owners in the deli. They were all hard workers, their new business venture prospered; eventually they sold their successful deli along with much well-earned goodwill. The Burns and James moved into real estate becoming very successful, well respected real estate agents. We were proud to have known them during their journey to success.

"Is it flats?"

Always the question asked when people saw our home.

This must have planted (or confirmed) an idea in Bills head, one day he suggested

"This is a lot of money to be sitting idle it could be making us money."

I was horrified. It had been a virtual gift from my parents, I loved my new home and now Bill wanted to get an income from it. I couldn't believe his thinking; we had such a comfortable lifestyle we both had jobs plus the rent from the property next door. What more could he want? I didn't encourage the thought.

We bought a television set, the latest, a black and white 18inch one.( _coloured or remote control TV's hadn't been introduced then_ ) It was still considered a luxury to own a TV, but we could afford it, so why not. I was so excited to have our own set enabling us to watch what we wanted to watch instead of watching someone else's; the owner of the set naturally chose the channels.

We set up our brand-new TV in the lounge. I couldn't wait to sit down relax and watch it, I found I was skipping through my work to allow time to do so. I discovered television was a huge time waster and life dictator, by the time I finished the chores the show I wanted to watch was half finished and I was so tired I usually fell asleep anyway.

Gerry, my friend from work was madly in love with Dave. Dave her first boyfriend was a true-blue Aussie guy, a carpenter, a fun guy with lots of mates who met at the pub every night after work. I thought he was spending money on booze they could ill afford, but most of the guys in these days did and enjoyed themselves. I was so pleased Bill didn't go to the pub every night I couldn't comprehend wasting money or time so regular.

Gerry fell pregnant with Dave; they would get married. It all happened so quick I don't think Dave realised what was happening. They enlisted our help. Gerry's friend Margaret was bridesmaid, her husband Bernie was best man. I made Margaret's frock; Gerry wore a frock she would be able to wear after the wedding.

The girls got dressed at our place, the boys at Dave's. Bill was with the boys, as well as supporting them, he was their driver for the day just as well because he said they had to ply Dave with beer to coax him to the church, he wanted to back out; Gerry would have been devastated. They were married, and we enjoyed a small reception at a local hall. We became friendly with Gerry and Dave and Margaret and Bernie, they were so outrageously funny, we met once a month talked and joked and laughed and laughed. I discovered what good therapy laughing is.

I felt so lucky being married to such a wonderful guy as Bill, I tried my best to be worthy of him, as hard as I tried I never felt I was good enough for him. He had said to me "I only ever asked ugly girls to dance with me, they are grateful and don't refuse."

I now knew why he asked me to dance the night we met; it wasn't the heliotrope satin frock at all. I knew I was ugly, but it still hurt to hear my husband say that. I thought 'I must make it up to him and look after and nurture him to compensate for my inadequacies.

Bill was a man of few words. I thought he was so wise.

"A penny saved is a penny earned" he said to me when I bought stuff (bargains) which probably would never be used. I guess it's the same as mum and dad saying "look after the pennies and the pounds look after themselves!"

I now appreciate how true both these sayings are.

Bill stunned me when he told me if he had met my mother before we married he would never have married me. He believed daughters were a younger version of their mother and he didn't want to be married to someone like my mother (and I thought mum had made a good impression.) I would never be like my mother I would make sure of that. Bill still mourned his mother and often asked "Why can't you be more like my mother?"

I would love to have been like his mother and be loved by Bill as much as he had loved her. I knew she must have been a special lady, the neighbours continually talked about her attributes.

"What was your mum like? How can I be like her? "I asked Bill.

"She was quiet, kind, genteel and very loving."

'I must try and be like her ' I thought "I mustn't get over excited and exuberant I must keep calm, subservient, serene and loving."

Bill often said he was blackmailed into marrying me. I believed he was joking. He had to joking. We were madly in love with a prosperous future ahead of us. When he told our friends we all had a good laugh. I was so in love. I overlooked another of Bill's sayings "many a truth is said in jest!"

I now look back and wonder?

I enjoyed the camaraderie of my work mates, now I was married it seemed I was accepted more openly into their discussions which inevitably were sex orientated. I listened with interest; I had never ever heard older people discussing sex; it was an absolute taboo subject in my upbringing. These descriptive discussions were a revelation to me, something I had never experienced.

I was titillated, especially when a worker from another department explained how he sent his wife into frenzy by sucking on both boobs at once. I longed to experience such titillations like having my boobs sucked, not one but two at once. I couldn't wait to get home to Bill with suggestions; he didn't seem to get my drift.

I lived with expectations of extra titillations which remained just that... expectations. Maybe one day.

We had been married eleven months. I loved being married, though I found it hard to adjust from living by myself to having a husband to care for as well. I was surely kept busy because I wanted to have everything perfect for him. I should have been more content than I was. I didn't know what was missing. One evening as we were washing the dinner dishes I was a bit morose. Bill asked "What is the matter?"

I didn't really know.

"Is it the patter of little feet you want to hear?"

He toddled around the kitchen making tiny step sounds

"Is this enough for you? Is this OK?"

We decided we'd start a family.

Trying to make a baby was so much fun, lots of love making, no withdrawals. I even got to enjoy the occasional eternal illusive penetrating orgasm. WOW! But! Alas; my fun was short lived; my next period didn't arrive; could I be pregnant? My life would surely be complete now.

When I missed my second period I with much anticipation went to the elderly lady doctor at the end of our street. I wouldn't have felt comfortable with a male doctor I thought we were so lucky to have a doctor consulting in our street, especially a female one.

She confirmed I was pregnant I was beside myself with excitement. I couldn't wait to get home and tell Bill. We were both elated.

The baby was due in May. I was pleased because it coincided with seeding time on the farm, mum would be too busy feeding and looking after the workers she wouldn't be able to leave the farm during seeding. I didn't really want her to be around during the final stages of pregnancy and the birth, I don't know why but I knew I wanted this to be just my husband, baby, and me time.

During this era many babies were born without complete limbs, their arms and legs were shriveled and remained so all their lives. These deformities were caused from Thalidomide, a drug given to pregnant mothers to prevent morning sickness.

"I don't want you to take any of those pills." Bill sternly told me.

I didn't want to either. I wanted to do whatever was right for my baby's well-being.

Soon morning sickness started, I felt so ill, it was awful. I went to the lady doctor expecting her to prescribe me a 'safe morning sickness pill'.

"My husband says I can't take any pills."

"I don't blame him don't take any pills, none at all while you are pregnant."

"bbbut what about my feeling so sick?"

"Regularly drink weak black tea and a dry biscuit, it will help."

"What about my constipation pills, I need them every day?"

"No! Don't take any pills at all then you know your baby won't be affected by medications."

"How will I ever be able to empty my bowels?"

"Eat albran for breakfast every morning and do these exercises."

She explained and demonstrated what exercises to do.

"As you are at the kitchen sink or peeling potatoes etc. pull your stomach in and out, do it as often as you can; another one is twisting your bottom as if you are wiping your back with a towel."

The actions of this twisting exercise became a popular dance introduced by Chubby Checkers. The Twist.

I went home concerned "How was I going to cope without pills? I will never get my bowels emptied."

I wanted to do the right thing for our baby's welfare, so I stopped taking all tablets, even aspirin. I took dry cracker biscuits and a thermos of weak tea to work to quickly snack on out of the customers view, this worked. I only needed one biscuit and half a cup of tea on a regular basis to curb my nausea, although I felt sick for three months I never vomited. I considered myself very lucky.

I bought albran as much as I disliked the taste I ate it every morning for breakfast with fruit and milk. I regularly did the exercises doctor recommended as I was washing the dishes or preparing meals and as I was wiping my back after a shower.

To my utter amasement my bowels started functioning as normal. They still do, I never took another laxative from that day to this, if I feel slightly constipated I consciously do the exercises, these exercises only take a half an hour to take effect. I have so much to thank that elderly lady doctor for. I was pleased to have her living so near during my pregnancy.

I spared a thought for my mother and all women living in outback country towns, their doctors were hours of travel time away, no wonder mum often threatened "You wait till you have children!"

I was still driving my scooter to work. Bill wasn't happy he said "I think we should sell your scooter."

"Why?"

I didn't want to sell my scooter I loved it; it gave me a modicum of independence.

"I want a wife and a baby in one piece, I don't want you to come to any harm there is no protection on a scooter."

"Isn't that nice, he wants to protect me."

We sold the scooter for one hundred pounds the money went onto the bank. It would be used to upgrade our rental property.

I now had to walk to the bus stop and catch the bus to work taking heaps longer than riding the scooter. I didn't like catching the bus after the independence and convenience of the scooter.

"Never mind, my husband wanted me to sell it, he wants a live wife and baby. How lovely is that? I am so lucky!"

My pregnancy progressed as normal though I always seemed tired. I found doing all the usual chores demanding, I sometimes got moody. I found we were arguing quite a lot. The first big argument we had was a huge shock to me. Bill emphatically told me I wasn't the type of wife he expected "why can't you be like my mother."

I was distraught I had tried desperately to be like his mother but obviously in vain. I thought we had a perfect marriage I did my utmost to please my husband. What else could I do? I didn't really know.

"I must try to be a better wife and not upset my husband." I told myself.

The evening of the argument a lovely arrangement of flowers was delivered. Bill had arranged with the nearby florist to deliver them. I melted. "What a thoughtful husband, everything is OK. I am so lucky."

The next week along came the florists bill. I walked the substantial distance to the florist shop and paid it.

This became a regular occurrence, an argument, flowers delivered, the bill arriving, me laboriously walking to the florists to pay the bill. I said to Bill one day "I think you can lay off the flowers for a while, I love them but it's quite a chore for me getting to the florist to pay and rather expensive. "He did. I never got any more unless I prompted him to buy some, which I also had to walk to the florist to pay for.

One morning I was feeling quite ill, we had an argument, our voices were raised.

"Damn! I had overstepped the mark again; I must not let myself show any exuberance, I must be subservient. "This argument made me late leaving for work, as I was hastily walking to the bus stop a young man I often saw driving past stopped and offered me a ride, although I felt a little guilty accepting a lift from a strange man I was so grateful for the lift, I was running late. He was very polite; I think he heard us arguing and knew my predicament of missing the bus.

Bill was not happy when I told him of this man's kind gesture of which I was so thankful for. Bill threatened me not to accept another lift from this kind young man.

I didn't, but it was difficult avoiding him because I didn't want to offend him by refusing his offer.

When I was nearly five months pregnant we decided I would give notice at work. My work colleagues were sorry to see me leave, I was sorry to be leaving too, I loved the camaraderie of my workmates. The big boss of the Myer Basement said "You can come back and work here any day you want."

I was flattered though I knew I would never go back there to work. Somehow I felt I would never have to find employment anywhere again.

My pregnancy was progressing I was looking forward to legitimately wearing loose flowing maternity frocks so I didn't have to worry about holding my stomach in, in fact I couldn't wait for my tummy to show I was pregnant I was proud to let it protrude naturally, it was a wonderful feeling knowing it was a baby and not all fat.

Fashions were still form fitting dresses with the emphasis on tiny waists, many girls still wore the uncomfortable under garments aiding and abetting a 'fashionable figure'.

Maternity fashions were long loose frocks designed to disguise the shape of your pregnancy. I couldn't wait to wear these loose flowing garments and shed the restrictive under garments. I loved wearing the loose frocks because they disguised my normally (before pregnancy) fat tummy. I was feeling great especially as the morning sickness had stopped. I was happy and content.

I had made friends with Bev a work mate at Myer. Bev a slightly older quiet sensible lady was married to Tony an Englishman, they had a school aged daughter. Tony was a typical 'Pom' he knew everything, he got employment wherever he could, though he knew everything he couldn't hold a job for very long therefore they always seemed short of money. I could see Bev continually trying to make ends meet.

Bev was a big support to me during my pregnancy she was experienced having had a baby. I dwelt on everything she said. Tony was a likeable Pom, he was fun. Bill and I became very friendly with Bev and Tony even though our lifestyles were vastly different, they lived in little dingy cheap rented premises usually around Norwood and Hackney (undesirable suburbs then) they moved often.

Through Bev and Tony we met two other newlywed couples. Anne and John a Dutch couple, John a builder worked in his successful family business building substantial high class homes; they of course had a lovely home built by the family at Highbury. English couple Brian a plumber and wife Jean also had a lovely new home at Tee Tree Gully. These suburbs were new outer suburbs of Adelaide. Land was more affordable for young couples in new outer suburbs as Adelaide spread and developed into urban areas.

We enjoyed many pleasant evenings with these three couples, we smoked cigarettes we drank alcohol we were all very happy, smoking and drinking alcohol was considered normal during pregnancy then. I really enjoyed these evenings of fun and friendships, especially now that I wasn't working and was able to have a daily afternoon sleep which refreshed me for the evening and the chores of preparing dinner for my working husband.

Now I wasn't working I easily settled into married life and housework. I loved being home and routinely managed the chores, though I found the stairs tiring. I tried to clean the upstairs rooms first then not have to go upstairs again until bedtime; it seemed an effort to climb the stairs. I planned my weekdays to have all my chores finished by midday so I could watch the midday movie.

I made sure I was sitting in front of the television by midday with my lunch, two slices of crispy toast topped with tomatoes accompanied by a pot of weak tea. Doctor was continually monitoring my weight, it was considered bad for a pregnant mother to put on excessive weight. I now had something to occupy my mind instead of eating, I didn't crave food as I used to. I loved being pregnant and not having to hold my stomach in. This was absolute luxury living for me.

I loved my lifestyle. I just couldn't believe my good fortune. BUT... I must remember to be genteel, loving and subservient so as not to upset my husband.

22nd November 1963. I'll never forget it as most people on earth will never forget where they were when the shocking news was announced over the radio. I was contentedly gardening under the wisteria covered pergola that extended from our dining room when I heard the news.

"John F Kennedy has been assassinated."

Bill and I were both shocked and distraught. I had never taken an interest in world news; but this news had a profound effect on me. I think this day made me realise the world isn't the perfect precinct I had imagined it to be; bad things do happen in our world. John F Kennedy's and his family were revered not only in America but throughout the world, his assassination was a terrible tragedy for the Kennedy family indeed for the world.

We decided to change churches, to one closer to our new home. Newstead Methodist Church was the closest, we were accepted into their fold, they were mostly older people, but welcoming.

I was invited to join the choir. I enjoyed singing in the choir more than the actual church services. I became friendly with a choir member an extroverted lady I'll call June; she was a little older than me and worldly wise, she took me under her wing, I was grateful for her support.

I looked forward to choir practice on Thursday nights enjoying the singing and the interaction with other people, especially June. The stories she told me about different individuals I could hardly believe, I had assumed everyone had the same ethics and living standards as our families. Choir and church took on a different meaning, I watched and listened and learned from a distance. I was amased at what I saw happening amongst the members of the congregation.

Bill and I mixed socially with June's family and friends. I really liked June, but Bill didn't particularly like our friendship he insisted "That woman is a bad influence for you."

I thought he was being overprotective, I loved June's company she was not only worldly wise she was very capable in all aspects of daily life.

I was asked by friends and from recommendations to make frocks, word was spreading. I wasn't interested in making ordinary clothes, only 'one ofs' made to measure for special occasions. It was a pleasure for me to sew in our new home. I had a room just for sewing as dad had built me on the farm. The room in our home was light and airy with one wall of windows overlooking our lush front gardens and a door opening onto the front patio entrance, ideal for clients, they didn't need to go into the house at all.

I felt justified not going to work I was pulling my weight helping with our wages. I sewed for many weddings. I loved doing weddings it was so rewarding.

I was living my dream. I was married, I had a lovely home, I was pregnant, I had a television set I could watch in peace at my leisure, the midday movie was an added bonus, most of the movies were blockbusters from the thirties forties and fifties, of course all black and white. I hadn't had the opportunity to see many movies in my life and certainly none of the epics shown daily on television so they were of wonderment to me.

After the movie I had a sleep, I needed a daytime nap, pregnancy tired me; after the nap I was refreshed and had dinner prepared for when Bill got home from work. We were financially well off with the rent from our house next door and my income from sewing bridal gowns supplementing Bill's wages, we were set for life. I felt so lucky. All my dreams had come true.

At my six-month checkup Doctor told me she was retiring, I was so disappointed.

"Never mind." she said "There is a young doctor taking over this practice, he'll look after you."

A male doctor to bring our baby into the world...how embarrassing!

This new doctor's family owned the premises, his deceased father also a doctor had practiced there, now this young doctor fresh out of University it seemed would be taking over ably supported by his mother a qualified nurse. They lived on the premises, very convenient for us to have a doctor living at the end of our street, but a man?

I was dubious on my first visit to him but he put me at ease and I soon became comfortable with him. He was a serious studious man with very little bedside manner and not a care in the world as to how he looked or how he was perceived, he was more interested in all things medical and practical.

He never went out in the sun without his coloured towelling floppy hat on, it looked so funny. He was so particular about every detail and everything concerning his patient's welfare he was affectionately called 'Aunty Betty' though not to his face. This doctor was our family doctor until he retired. How fortunate we were.

January 1964 Roger and his best mate John drove to Adelaide for their annual holidays, they were both twenty years old, nearly the age of consent, but not yet. Twenty-one was the age of consent when you were able to vote and legally able to purchase or drink alcohol.

Roger and John stayed with us in our spare bedroom upstairs. What an education for us these two boys were. I only knew Roger as the obedient well-behaved son of my staid parents, and John as his well-behaved mate, well... well behaved when he stayed with us on the farm.

Boys away from home I learned are a different kettle of fish; they bought so much alcohol continually consuming it, they relished the fact no-one in Adelaide knew them so no-one would 'dob them in'. I certainly wasn't about to. They were never asked for ID, though they were under-age. Their priority buy was bottles of Vodka, they informed us it was invaluable.

"Why? "I asked.

"It's the best 'leg opener'."

I couldn't believe my ears.

They took over our spare bedroom, for their entire holiday, it was scattered with clothes and packaging, strewn everywhere. When they needed clothes, instead of looking amongst the piles of clothes strewn around their room or putting the dirty ones out to be washed they simply bought new ones. The empty packaging was also left strewn around the bedroom adding to the chaos. They enjoyed a carefree holiday breaking every rule they could because... they could... with no-one to report them. Bill and I looked on in amasement.

"The best holiday ever" they assured us when they left.

It was time to prepare the nursery, the room the boys had vacated. I worked hard making sure everything was in readiness for our baby. I scrubbed the room throughout, no dust or germs would pollute our baby. I painted the walls and ceiling in neutral colours, we never knew what gender our babies were, there was no way back then of depicting the sex.

I furnished the nursery with a borrowed bassinet and large iron cot from my cousin Dorothy along with special pieces I had bought from Myer when still working. I lovingly made the bed in the basinet with freshly laundered linen and baby rugs. I had made baby clothes including nighties open down the back, the standard baby attire then. I hand-washed all the baby layette and neatly arranged them in the nursery cupboards. The nursery looked so lovely, I was proud of my achievements, all was ready for our baby to move in.

The elegant pram mum and dad had given us and the highchair Mr. Gourlay had given us took pride of place, we bought these at Myer with house discount, we bought the best and strongest highchair available it would be solid enough to accommodate any children we may be blessed with, and probably their children as well.

The pram we chose was a regal old English style much like the royal family used, the carriage made of elaborately detailed metal lifted off the four wheeled base almost two feet across and more than a yard long, it cost twice as much as any other but we loved it, it also had the possibilities of becoming a family heirloom.

I was feeling contented, happy, confident, and exuberant. OOPS! Something I had done or said upset Bill. I had forgotten my status in our marriage. Bill chastised me, I thought he was being unreasonable and told him so.

I was following him upstairs to go to bed, we were near the top of the stairs when he broke into a fury and suddenly lashed out at me with his arm hitting me forcefully across my arms. I was stunned, surprised and shattered I didn't know what I had done to upset him.

He was above me on the staircase the fury on his face scared me; he continued to forcefully slam his fisted arm onto my clenched arms as I was protecting our baby. I felt I was near to falling down the staircase. I unclenched my arms to grab the balcony rail to prevent falling down the stairs. I feared for our baby, I clung on so desperately the wrought iron stair rails painfully dug into my arms, I thought they would cut me. I was desperate.

Finally, he stopped attacking me.

"I am the boss here; you must do as I tell you."

I thought I had always done what was expected of me.

What more could I do?

I must remember to keep my place, and not upset him. I want to be a good wife.

I must remember my marriage vows, 'to love honour and obey'.

Bill didn't hold grudges, he soon calmed down. I dutifully tried to please him and do everything he asked.

Why am I such a terrible wife I wondered?

In public I discovered a pregnant lady was treated with reverence, I relished in the reverence showered on me. I had never experienced so much concern shown to me, I felt so special, like I was the only woman in the world ever to be pregnant. Alas! My common sense took over, I considered all the millions of people in the world and realised that every single person ever to exist had a mother who would also have felt just like I did.

Bev my mentor kept me informed on the practicalities of pregnancy I found her advice invaluable. I read the recommended books. I practiced the breathing exercises. Birthing was very much a mother's duty, the father had no part in the birth or the preparations, the father was busy earning a living to provide for his family it was the wife's duty to tend and care for 'the man of the house' and the children they were blessed with.

I accepted that it was my job totally to tend and care for our children and very conscious of the fact the 'man of the house' must be first priority; he was the bread earner and the one having to go to work.

Bill was adamant I must look after myself he didn't want a frumpy wife who let herself go after she had children. I rubbed baby oil onto my stretching stomach every day to make the skin pliable hoping to alleviate stretch marks. I also scrubbed my nipples with a nail brush daily to toughen them up so they wouldn't be so tender when the baby was breastfeeding.

Baby oil worked. I never had stretch marks... still haven't.

I didn't get sore nipples either.

Our pregnant friend Anne gave birth naturally to a daughter three months before I was due. I questioned her on all the proceedings. I envied her with the birth safely over and done with.

I was so enjoying being pregnant even though I continually had a back ache, always contriving to sit in the most comfortable chair which were few and far between. Bill was designing elaborate grandfather and grandmother lounge chairs. I noted how uncomfortable these straight back styled chairs were.

"While you are designing exquisite chairs you may as well make them comfortable." I dared to suggest.

He agreed and had me sitting in the prototype until we were happy he had the right angles assuring comfort in the completed chair. My pregnancy provided a delicate back which proved to be a good judge of comfort. I felt I was contributing to the designs of Bills chairs, well to the comfort of them anyway.

Bill's work at Angorichina was quite stressful. He made furniture to order, hopefully making a profit on each order; he was a perfectionist and did not like to be pressured at all. He spent more hours drawing, designing, constructing, and carving each piece of furniture than the quote allowed, he refused to produce a substandard piece of furniture.

Each order was uniquely designed and always took much longer to produce than the foreman thought it should. Rudy the French polisher then finished the piece. The customer was always delighted, of course they were they had bought a custom-made piece of furniture paying well below the real worth.

I thought the original quotes should be higher but the foreman said there was a limit to how much could be charged; he thought Bill should take less time producing. This worried Bill, even so he insisted on maintaining his high standard and wouldn't rush through his work.

Bill was totally honest. I was so proud of him. I abhorred thieves and liars, even petty thieving. I noticed if Bill came home with a few screws in his pocket he made sure he returned them to work the next day.

Bill never considered time, when he was designing furniture he was in a world of his own. He left for work each morning when he was good and ready, usually well after his starting time of 8am. I asked him what the foreman said when he strolled in at least a half hour late each morning?

"Good morning!"

The foreman obviously accepted Bill arriving at whatever time he chose but come home time Bill was usually an hour late knocking off, he was left to lock up.

Bill's work hours were officially 8am – 5pm weekdays and closed all weekend. Factories started an hour earlier than shops each weekday making a forty-hour week.

Angorichina workshops run at a loss. The only income for Tubercular Soldiers Aid Society was from furniture produced in the workshop which didn't cover the wages of the three guys let alone the office staff and building maintenance. Angorichina Hostel in the Flinders Ranges had served its purpose; TB had been eradicated, these unoccupied buildings were occasionally used as a retreat at the boss's whim.

We went self-contained one weekend to the deserted sparsely furnished establishment and slept in the heavy iron hospital beds on aged hard mattresses, collected wood from the bush and used the old wood stove to cook, boil water and keep warm; we enjoyed this different experience especially as we were the only ones there.

Often Bill was sure the TBSA and workshop would be forced to close through lack of funds, but to his surprise and much jubilation of the five staff, someone would die and bequeath their estate to TBSA which with annual badge days kept these five people including Bill employed for many years.

I am now skeptical donating to 'charity'.

Bill must have been still looking in car yards.

"I have found this car, it's only a third the price of the Bentley and not quite as old, we will have to have a car when the baby arrives, my ute won't be suffice."

I would have preferred a new car, it would have cost the same, but I daren't suggest a new car.

"Come and have a test drive it's a wonderful car you will love it, it's an Armstrong Sidley."

I had never heard of an Armstrong Sidley.

We went for a test drive. I was pleasantly surprised. The car looked grand; I liked the look of it better than the Bentley it didn't look so old. Bill was in his element during the test drive.

I felt like royalty sitting in the massive front seat alongside him, he showed me all the little extras and lavishly explained the benefits of the car. It wasn't a hot day, so it didn't creak and croak. I was sold! We traded the ute in for the Armstrong Sidley.

Me in our drive with Armstrong Sidley. Our 2nd house next door behind.

Our new car was silver a dull silver because it was quite old, age had diminished its sheen. I was only familiar with shiny new cars.

"It looks old."

"It just needs a cut and polish."

I had no idea what a cut and polish was, the new cars we had only ever needed a wash.

Bill lovingly spent hours cutting and polishing until it shone like new. It looked like a new car... for about a week, after which the shine disappeared and the car looked dull and drab again. I wondered what mum and dad would think it? I suspected 'not much'. I was right, but they didn't express their feelings to Bill.

Bill continued mentioning our home would be suitable for flats. I wouldn't hear of it, instantly dismissing the idea.

One day not long before our baby was due Bill gently took me by the arm "come with me I've got something to show you."

What is it? I wondered?

Room by room, upstairs and downstairs, he guided me through our home explaining how easy it would be to convert our home into three flats...

"and"... he said... "if it doesn't work out, we can put it all back as it was, and have our home back again."

All I remember hearing was "if it doesn't work out we can put it back as it was and have our home back again."

"Having our home back again if it doesn't work out" I thought "no harm done."

"Okay!"

Bill explained firstly the staircase would be blocked off separating the downstairs from upstairs making a unique luxury self- contained flat on the top floor.

The upstairs hall landing would be the new kitchen, the second bedroom (the nursery) would be the lounge, the master bedroom and bathroom was already in place, all that needed to be bought was an exterior staircase leading up to the huge deck, the two existing doors from the flat opening onto the deck would make grand entrances.

Bill could do all the work himself with a little help plumbing the kitchen: it really was all too easy.

Bill took me to a demolition yard; I was appalled 'shopping in a junk yard'! He found a staircase he assured me he could adapt for the new entrance.

While he was looking around I spotted this dear little pitch-black kitten. I loved cats. I hadn't had any pets since I left the farm. I cuddled and played with it. I asked who it belong to, "It's a stray, lives in the yard. Do you want it?"

I looked at Bill. He shook his head.

'Oh well it was just a thought.'

After Bill had organised for the staircase to be delivered and we were leaving, this dear little kitten jumped towards me clawing onto my flowing maternity frock, it clawed its way up my frock until I picked it off and fondled it, while looking longingly at Bill.

"He wants to come home with us, we can't leave him here."

Bill finally gave in, we became the proud owners of the kitten we called Lucky. Lucky he found us.

Lucky spent every second with me, he insisted on climbing up my frock to sit on my shoulder while I was standing, or to sit on my lap while sitting. I did wonder what would happen when our baby arrived.

I was so proud of the newly decorated nursery with everything in place, the baby clothes washed and packed neatly in the cupboards, the bassinet and pram made up ready for our baby. I had diligently prepared for Bill to be as comfortable as possible while I was in hospital, everything was spotlessly clean, he would have no housework to do; he didn't cook so I prepared meals he could easily heat up. I kept the laundry washing up to date so he had enough clothes to wear without having to do a wash. I organised for Aunty Ruby to do my hospital washing. I felt confident I had done all I could, Bill should be able to cope without me. He had never lived on his own so never had to look after himself or wash or cook.

My last visit to doctor he told me "I think this baby will arrive early, you must be prepared."

I was excited. I had my case packed with the list of things we had to take to the hospital, plus a packet of albran. I had no idea what symptoms I could expect when labour began.

The baby didn't arrive early, the day it was due, a Sunday Bev suggested we have an afternoon party at our place to take my mind off the pending birth. After church we did just that, we invited our few friends to spend the afternoon with us. Bev suggested I shouldn't have any alcohol... "in case"

All day I expected some sign of the baby announcing its arrival... nothing.

Bev said "From now on every twinge you get you'll wonder if it is contractions, even a pain in your big toe will have you wondering." She was right.

It was ten days later before I was sure I was in labour. These ten days were the longest days of my life. I wondered if the baby inside me was all a myth, no it wasn't a myth it was very active and making me very uncomfortable.

I had butterflies in my tummy wondering about the discomfit of the actual birth, once again my common sense took over; every single body on this earth had a mother who gave birth; why was I any different? It was a natural function of a woman's body! My only real concern should be for my baby, will it be born alive and healthy?

Ultrasounds weren't heard of and only in extreme cases was an x-ray taken of the baby because of potential ray damage to the baby. Not knowing the gender till the baby was born contributed to the excitement, but the anxiety of whether it was healthy or maimed or the surprise of more than one baby was an issue.

I was told "Stay home until the contractions get about ten minutes apart, you may as well be home as moping around in hospital."

When I felt certain I was in labour I rang Bill at work, he came home and drove me to Monreath Private Hospital at Burnside at 5pm. I felt like a little girl expecting Santa.

"What will Santa bring?"

Walking into the hospital I felt water running down my legs. My water had broken. How embarrassing!

"Oh dear" I panicked "it will be a breech birth."

I remember hearing breech births were dangerous.

The nurse assured me it was normal.

"Your labour is going along nicely."

Bill was dismissed, he said goodbye, wished me luck and happily hurried home. Fathers weren't allowed to be with their wives and partners during births in those days. I had asked doctor if it was possible for Bill to be in attendance during the birth. "No, they just get in the way, and it's not a pretty sight."

"I don't want to be at the birth, I wouldn't attend even if I was allowed." Bill emphatically informed me.

I was disappointed he didn't want to share this momentous moment with me.

I was 'prepped' for the birth, shaved from my waist to my knees, as usual with a blunt razor and endured the inevitable enema, which we all dreaded, ensuring bowels were completely empty. The contractions were getting closer and stronger. I wasn't allowed any dinner.

"Damn I am hungry."

10pm. I knew I was having a baby, the contractions were getting even closer and stronger, soon they got so strong a sister stayed with me all the time holding my hand encouraging me to cling to it and breath (as I had practiced) during each contraction.

Strange, this was nothing like I expected during my spasmodic practices at breathing, this went on for much longer than I was prepared for.

The pain was becoming stronger as the contractions grew closer together and lasted for much longer.

When the contractions became almost unbearable a gas mask was put over my nose, it helped, I discarded it between contractions, but begged for it during contractions.

I felt a bearing down, I wanted to push.

"Don't push yet, we must wait for the doctor."

"Damn the doctor, he should be here by now, I can't help but push."

Doctor appeared

"Okay. You can push now."

RELIEF.......Whoosh.......

"Ouch, that hurt."

My tummy was gone.

# Chapter 8

## William MARK Hoad

11.30pm 17th May 1964. William MARK Hoad a strong healthy baby weighing eight pounds (3.629 kg) made his entrance, bawling his head off. He was whisked away to be bathed before I was able to see him. I wanted him in my arms. I wanted to see for myself the baby I had just given birth to.

"Where is my baby?"

He is being cleaned up, there is another small task you must do first, push again to get rid of the 'after birth'.

With doctor pushing on my stomach I used what little effort I had left and pushed.

Gush...a heap of stuff whooshed out...it was over.

I was torn a little but not bad enough to require stitches. I was so overwhelmed and proud of myself. I was in awe of Mother Nature, at how she made it bearably possible for a body to expand enough for a baby to safely pass through the birth canal.

I couldn't wait to see Bill. I had done him proud. I knew he would be ecstatic with a healthy baby son. I was allowed to have a look through the viewing window at our son tightly wrapped up and sleeping in his cot along with all the other newborn babies in the nursery before I was wheeled back to my ward and expected to sleep. I was far too excited. I wanted to shout to the world "I have a son. "I wanted to share my joy with Bill I wanted to share my joy with everyone. I must have bored the other three new mothers in the ward with my exuberance.

We had already chosen a girl and a boy's name. William wasn't a popular name then, it was classed as an 'old fashioned' name, but it was Bill's and my mother's fathers name, so our son was called William Mark, he would be known as Mark.

Next morning Bill called in on his way to work. A nurse had rung him just after midnight and told him he had a son. He went to the nursery to view our baby through the nursery viewing window. I wasn't due to have Mark brought to me until 10am. Bill thought he was the best looking baby he had ever seen even though he could only see the top of his head in the basinet. I thought so too even though I had only caught a glimpse of him the night before.

I suggested to Bill, he organise some flowers be delivered, flowers surrounding a new mother seemed to be the 'done' thing I wanted to be seen as doing the 'done thing'.

Bill authorised our prepared birth notice to appear in the Advertiser (the mode of communication then) to announce the safe arrival of our son. Most people scanned the Births, Marriages and Deaths from their paper delivered over night, by the morrow everyone would know we had a son. I couldn't wait for the world to know of our good fortune. It worked: flowers cards and many visitors flocked to the hospital. I was on a massive euphoric high.

Newborn babies in those days were looked after in a special nursery in the hospital thus allowing the mothers recovery time after confinement.

Mothers were rigidly supervised assuring they had complete rest during their stay in hospital. Nurses brought the babies to their mothers at 6am, (except the first morning, mum was supposedly recovering) 10am, 2pm, 6pm, and 10pm, all regimented regular feeding times, nurses bottle fed the babies during the night allowing the mothers an unbroken night's sleep.

Mothers weren't allowed in the nursery so only saw the babies at feeding time or through the viewing window.

Breast feeding didn't seriously start till the baby was three days old they only suckled until the breast milk 'come down'. The nurses told me they fed the babies a supplement formula before the mother's milk 'came down', which it did with a vengeance on the third day. Boy my boobs were HUGE, and tender; milk squirted out far too quickly for Mark to drink, it nearly choked him.

I had to express before I was able to comfortably feed Mark. The express pump was a crude suction thing I didn't like using. The nurses assured me my milk was put to good use, it was fed to babies whose mother didn't have milk; I wondered who they were? I envied them not having to endure the inconvenience and messiness of too much milk.

My nipples were a little sore, I can't imagine how bad they would have been if I hadn't been toughening them with a nail brush the past six months. I couldn't lie on my tummy, my boobs were too tender and swollen, I wore nappies tied around them to soak up the continual stream of milk oozing from them. I was beginning to wonder about having babies I thought it was supposed to be a wonderful experience.

Visiting hours were strictly limited 3-4pm and 7-8pm between feeding times, even for the fathers. I had many visitors I was so excited I couldn't calm myself down. I thought I would bust.

Mark was a week old, visiting hours were nearly over when nurse brought Mark to me. Bill was still there. How wonderful!

"I want to see all of him to make sure he has ten fingers and ten toes." Bill said.

I also wondered what our baby looked like inside the swaddling, so we unwrapped him from his bunny rugs and checked him out, he was perfect. When the nurse realised Bill was still with me, she shoo-ed him out. I couldn't see why he couldn't have stayed longer. I guess it would be pandemonium in the ward if all four of us mothers had our husbands with us after visiting hours.

Bill didn't seem to want to hang around anyway, he usually left before visiting hours finished. I hoped he was coping by himself at home okay. He assured me was. He was invited out to a meal by family most nights, he seemed happy enough.

All the mothers were having trouble using their bowels, seems birthing upsets the system. Each morning for breakfast I ate albran, it worked a treat. I was functioning normally the other mothers were in awe. I suggested they eat albran too, they screwed up their noses.

"Suit yourselves, I know it works."

There was a set of standard exercises for new mothers to do to regain their figures. Bill insisted I do them, every day he asked if I was doing them, the nurses also nagged us every day, they were a real chore, but I was hassled into doing them by either the nurses or Bill. I had never done any regular exercises to me they were an intrusive chore, however I persevered, I wanted to please Bill; he knew what was best. I would do as he asked.

Mark was to be circumcised before we went home. I wasn't looking forward to that. Circumcision was the accepted practice; we never had a choice. I couldn't bear the thought of something so barbaric happening to my precious baby. I asked if they would deaden the area!

"It's done so quick he won't feel any pain."

"Why do they scream when circumcised then?"

Ten days was the standard time mother and baby stayed in hospital. I had been on such a high for so long, certainly all the time in hospital I was in a state of euphoria. I was looking forward to going home and settling in our lovely home with Mark in the newly decorated nursery where I could have him with me. I also desperately needed to be in my own peaceful environment in solitude with time to myself allowing me to regain my senses.

Two days before mums and babe went home they were shown how to bath their baby; the day before going home they were supervised while bathing their baby. Though this was exciting for me because I would at last get to see all of my baby it was a daunting experience, I felt totally out of my depth. I felt clumsy and inadequate bathing Mark under the watchful eye of the nurse. I was sure I could manage alright on my own without a critical eye noticing my fumbling attempt to bath our precious baby.

I was shocked at the site of Mark's little penis after the circumcision, the head of it was coated in an ugly scab, it looked so sore, it must have been painful especially when he wee-ed, also the belly button hadn't healed, the birthing cord still needed dressings. I worried about caring and treating these horrible afflictions our defenseless baby was subjected to.

I was determined I would be the best mother ever. I felt so responsible for this dear little baby who was ours; we were totally responsible for the upkeep and well-being of this helpless little human. We would be the best parents. Mark would have the best care and love. I was sure we would produce a Prime Minister. I would move heaven and earth to be the best possible mother.

The night before we were due to go home Bill said "I have a surprise for you, I have been busy. I have started converting the top storey into a flat."

How exciting, how clever my husband is, he can achieve anything.

Bill took the day off work to pick us up. The Armstrong Sidley was parked out the front of the hospital, my bags all packed. Where is my baby? The head sister insisted on carrying Mark to the car, she wouldn't give him to me until I was safely seated in the front seat, then she placed him in my arms.

No seat belts in those days or baby capsules, usually babies lay on the back seat wrapped in a shawl, but I wanted my baby on my lap where I could hold him. At last he was my total responsibility. Driving home was the proudest moment of my life. Our baby was really all ours, no-one was going to dictate when I could and couldn't hold him and tend to him.

As Bill drove home he seemed a bit apprehensive, I guessed it was quite daunting being a new dad. As we neared home he said "I have moved everything from upstairs to the downstairs, in readiness for the new flat."

"Everything?"

"Yes!"

"Including the nursery?"

"Yes!"

I proudly walked into our home with Mark in my arms looking forward to relaxing in our lovely home which I had lovingly cleaned and prepared ready for our homecoming.

I stopped in horror.

I stared at the mayhem; all the furniture from upstairs including the cupboard contents and clothes were dumped in a most disorderly fashion downstairs. The lounge, the dining room and my sewing room was littered with everything unceremoniously dumped into disorderly jumbled heaps amidst the dust from renovation works which covered everything.

"Where is the nursery? Where is the bassinet? Where are the baby clothes?"

Bill didn't seem to comprehend how upset I was. I couldn't believe he could have been so inconsiderate, surely he knew how much planning I had given to getting the nursery just right; ready for our baby's homecoming.

I found the bassinet under a heap of dumped clothes mixed with dust and debris, Bill had disappeared doing 'man things', I emptied it of debris and dirt as best I could with one hand and laid Mark in it hoping he would sleep as he was scheduled to do while I tried to get some order amongst the chaos. He did until he was due to be fed.

Another problem... as I was feeding Mark, Lucky insisted on jumping onto my lap consequently onto Mark. As often as I shoved him down he jumped back up. I guess Lucky did have first priority he was the first to claim my lap, so he thought. We compromised, I made room for them both on my lap; they were both happy. I did wonder what would happen as they both grew!

After Mark's first feed in his new home I put him back in the bassinet, he slept again as I expected him to, while I got on with trying to make some sort of semblance of orderliness of our home and sorting out the dusty heaps of clothes.

Bill was working in the shed, homemaking was the woman's job, I excepted that, but I was becoming very distressed, trying to sort out the jumbled mess of all our belongings strewn everywhere, all our clothes in heaps where ever Bill had dumped them, all my precious babies clothes jumbled amongst them. The only thing that had not been turned upside down or disturbed was the fridge; it was still full of the food I had lovingly prepared for Bill before I went to hospital.

"What did he eat?" I had no idea.

Mark cried again, a bit earlier than his scheduled feed time, that's OK 'I'll feed him a bit earlier. I did. I put him back in the basinet... he cried... and cried... and cried...

"What do I do? He has a full tummy! Probably his penis and navel wounds are hurting him! Maybe he has wind."

I really had no idea. Sniff! Sniff!

"What is that awful smell? It smelt like shit! OH DEAR! It probably is. I had better check his nappy."

I never had to consider dirty nappies in hospital, the nurses did all that. I didn't realise nappies should be checked.

What a shock I got. Shit was everywhere, it had oozed out of the nappy onto all his clothes sheets and rugs, and Mark was somewhere amongst it all. I had never encountered anything like the mess I was faced with.

"Where do I start?"

I had no idea. We never changed nappies in hospital.

I was appalled and worried about the scabbed circumcision and navel areas which were totally covered in shit, they were nowhere near healed surely they would become infected? I must pay special attention to cleaning these wounds.

What a rude awakening for me. This was where my idealistic fanciful dreams ended and reality set in. Welcome to the real-world Eunice!

I was appalled to be confronted with not only a poo-y nappy but poo-y bedding shawl and clothes. How do I clean them? I took them outside to the garden gagging as I hosed them with a strong pressure of water before washing them. The expensive towelling nappies I bought absorbed but didn't prevent leakages. I was so exhausted and disillusioned by nightfall, all I wanted to do was sleep for a week. I fed Mark and fell asleep on our bed after I cleared all the clothes and debris off it.

Mark cried and cried. Bill had already warned me he didn't want to be disturbed, he wouldn't be getting up in the night, he had to get his sleep; he was the one earning the living. I spent the whole night trying to pacify Mark. I couldn't.

I didn't want to wake Bill. I sat in the cold amongst the chaos of mess by myself in the farthest room from where Bill was asleep with Mark on my breast, it was the only thing that stopped him crying, as soon as I tried to put him in his bassinet, he started crying all over again.

What- ever is wrong I wondered? This wasn't at all what I expected of motherhood, this was not how babies behaved. I felt tired, lonely and cold.

We muddled through the first two weeks. Mark usually slept during the day, especially after his morning bath, but at night he was wide awake, so grizzly we often put the bassinet on the back seat of the car and drove round and round until he fell asleep. Of course, as soon as the car stopped he woke up. Our home was so disorganised and upside down. I was so tired and disillusioned; I wrote to mum

"Is seeding finished yet? Do you want to come over and meet your first grandchild?"

When mum arrived I put Mark in her arms, she was so overwhelmed she had tears in her eyes, I had never seen mum show such emotion. When she saw the upheaval of our home I could see how shocked she was. I was worried about what she would think of our home being converted to flats. We made a space to make a single bed up for her in the lounge.

Relief... after I had given Mark his night feed, and my boobs were empty of milk, I went to bed. Mum looked after him until the next feed was obviously needed.

Breast feeding I thought was a necessary duty though restrictive, painful and smelly. The milk leaking onto my clothes quickly turned sour from the heat of my body, a putrid smell; thankfully I stopped producing so much milk once I got home, I was glad I now didn't have to express before each feed.

Mark demanded a feed every three hours and me being the only one able to feed him restricted me...Big Time; it seemed as if I had only just finished feeding and changing his nappy when he demanded it all over again, my carefully planned schedule was a farce. At least mum was able to pacify him between feeds.

Nappies; were the biggest shock of all time for me, not only changing the very soiled ones but also washing them. Bill never changed a nappy that was the mother's chore. There were no disposable or nappy services in the sixties, towelling and swanskin nappies was the choice, which had to be washed... by mums, no pick-up nappy services either.

Washing a baby after he had soiled his nappy was bad enough, but then the nappies had to be washed, just urine was okay, they didn't have to be scraped like the poo-y ones which were putrid and the stains hard to remove, bleach couldn't be used it was too harsh on a babies tender skin. I scrubbed and scrubbed at them, hoping the sun would do the rest.

Our laundry didn't have a laundry tub only a small hand basin, we had bought a twin tub washing machine I assumed rinsing could be achieved in the spin dryer??? Dreadful nappy rashes proved that assumption a fallacy.

Mum stayed for two weeks, she was a huge help, she took over the washing, cleaning and pacifying of Mark. I was so pleased and relieved to have a few moments without being 'on call' 24/7.

Mark in the pram with Lucky

Mum was concerned about Lucky, if Lucky was allowed access to the bassinet he jumped into it and slept, many times I found him soundly asleep at Marks feet.

"Babies have been smothered by cats sleeping on them." Mum warned me.

Lucky was a smart cat, he only slept at Marks feet, all the same I did my best to keep him away from the bassinet, quite a feat in the chaotic open space we now lived in.

I had recovered somewhat by the time mum went home. The house was still in shambles though I had tried to make it functional. Bill spent all his spare time upstairs hammering, sawing and sanding making much noise and dust as he converted it into a functional flat.

We needed a bathroom downstairs, there was already a toilet off the laundry with a hand basin; the large pantry between the kitchen and laundry made an ideal shower alcove, it seemed as if converting our home to flats was meant to be, everything was already in place for it to be easily converted.

I witnessed my lovely home disappearing before my eyes. Bill was anxious to obtain an income without having to work. Our friends couldn't believe we were giving up our home to flats, the girls said to me "I wouldn't give up my home, you are mad."

I never considered I was mad.

Bill was very capable and clever, he was doing most of the work himself so the costs were minimal and we would have extra income. I was content I was married to a clever man we had a healthy son... potentially a P.M. We were a complete family.

Mr. Gourlay was as proud of Mark as if he were his real grandson, he came to visit us often, he did many odd jobs around the house he was very capable. We decided he would be known to Mark as Poppa, although Mr. Gourlay had invited me to call him dad I had never been comfortable doing so, I had avoided calling him anything, now I felt right calling him Poppa.

Mark was settling down, (maybe it was me settling down) the love I felt for him was beyond words. This wonderful tiny human being who we created and I gave birth to was so precious. I felt so maternal and protective of him, it was a daunting experience realising that we alone were totally responsible for the rearing and upbringing of this precious helpless bundle.

I thought 'this is all the love I need in my life; my life is complete with my adorable son.' I even briefly thought I didn't need a husband.

'Just my baby and me, I would feel complete.'

Mothers and Babies Association kept a record of all babies born; they monitored each baby's growth and well-being. My first encounter with Mothers and Babies was a visit to our home. I was surprised and impressed. The visiting nurse invited me to take Mark to the nearest clinic each week. Our nearest clinic was a considerable walk away in an old hall on Magill Road where a consultant nurse visited once a week. Mothers were encouraged to visit each week then space the visits as the babies got older. I relied on M&B's advice though in practice it didn't seem relevant, nothing seemed to be as simple as they made out.

I didn't know what I was doing rearing a baby, I relied on 'gut instinct'. I felt I was coping okay until... I read Dr Spock's book on raising children especially newborn babes. As I read the book it seemed I was doing nothing right, I got quite depressed. At Mark's six weeks regulatory checkup I told doctor I was feeling inadequate and incapable.

"Do you feel tired? And feel like crying a lot?" he asked.

I burst into tears "Yyyesss"

"That's okay. That's quite normal after what your body and mind has been through, some mothers even hurt their babies during these depressions."

"Oh. I'd never hurt my baby, I'm not that bad."

He gave me some pills to take and HEY PRESTO I was instantly my happy self again.

During Mark's examination doctor asked me to undress him. I did, it was freezing cold in his surgery, Mark was laid on a cold plastic sheet, he screamed.

"Nothing wrong with his lungs." doctor said as he picked him up by an arm and a leg and turned him over.

Marks screams became even louder. I thought doctor was almost cruel, I never tortured Mark like that I always placed his bare body on a warm towel and very gently turned him over.

After examining Mark doctor announced "You have a perfectly healthy specimen of a son."

I already knew I had a perfect son, so did Bill.

Doctor insisted I visit him with Mark each month to monitor his progress.

"The Mothers and Babies are doing that already."

"I know, but I like to a keep a record as well."

I dutifully kept appointments each month, a real chore for me, it interrupted the schedule I had settled Mark into; there was always a long wait at the surgery, a half day wasted when I could have been sewing.

Every spare minute I had I liked to sew. I had cleared a spot amongst the jumbled mess downstairs especially for sewing. Mark was growing so quickly I needed every second I could muster to sew. I treasured the times Mark slept every morning and afternoon; I was able to achieve many more chores during his sleeping periods.

Whilst breast feeding I had the biggest boobs, Bill loved my rotund figure especially my boobs, though he regularly reminded me to do the exercises to regain my figure, which I did, consequently I was not only getting my figure back but I was losing weight. I wasn't overeating, I wasn't bored any more, I had plenty to do to keep my mind off eating and we enjoyed lots of lovemaking.

I loved breastfeeding because it was the belief while breastfeeding you couldn't get pregnant, this was the ticket to sexual freedom, not having to withdraw before ejaculation was so much better for me. If I was quick I occasionally orgasmed, I wasn't left without a climax so often.

I looked forward to making love every night, I yearned for more, I yearned for the illusive final thrill withdrawal deprived me of, withdrawal brought a sudden halt to any chance of experiencing that 'final thrill' for me... the hollowed orgasm.

Mark was two months old, time to take him to town and show him off to my work colleagues. It was quite a feat achieving this, firstly we had to go to work with Bill and bring the car home then bathe and feed Mark. Feeding was a necessary twofold purpose, not only to assure Mark had a full tummy and hopefully not grizzle, but also to empty my boobs so they wouldn't leak, even so I wore pads to soak up leakage.

Dressed in his best clothes and tucked in the huge carriage of the pram sitting on the back seat of the Armstrong Sidley I had polished to a brilliant shine for the outing (I didn't and don't like driving a dirty car) I drove into the city. After finding a park; getting the pram out of the car was a major feat; it was so big heavy and cumbersome.

Finally I was proudly pushing this grand looking pram on my way to Myers to show off the best-looking baby ever born. There was much ooing and arring as I maneuvered the regal carriage around Myer lapping up all the congratulations and compliments. Of course Mark soon got grizzly, he never had a dummy the only pacifier was the boob; he needed to be fed before we picked Bill up from work or else he'd scream all the way home and upset Bill.

I retreated to the smelly toilets to feed Mark. It really bugged me to have to segregate myself while breastfeeding, it was degrading having to hide myself away in some dingy room (especially a toilet) for privacy. Why couldn't I breast feed anywhere? It was natural and normal. I could do it without showing any boob.

I did not enjoy having to shut myself away in solitude. It annoyed me so but it simply wasn't socially acceptable to be seen breast feeding in public. Even at home if we had visitors I went to another room for total privacy... well to save embarrassment of our guests.

This visit to the city exhausted me, it was late when we got home because as usual Bill didn't leave work until he finished whatever he was doing, Mark was grizzly which upset Bill, there was no meal ready at home which made Bill grumpy. I decided then and there it was just not worth the effort to drop Bill to and from work so I could have the car, it upset Mark's routine leaving me with a very cranky baby to deal with, consequently a disorganised household.

I was getting back my usual capable self, I felt I was making headway reorganising our home into an orderly comfortable home. I was feeling good again, I had my confidence back, I was happy and in control of life... until one night I overstepped the mark.

"How could I be so forgetful, I must remember to mind my position in our marriage, Bill must be my first priority; I must try and be like his mum.

Bill got cranky at me, we had an argument over something I couldn't fathom, it seemed unreasonable to me; he hit out at me, his arm landing hurtful blows across my upper arms. In his rage he yelled "You are useless and unloving, why can't you be like my mum? Get out of my life."

I was shattered.

"Why did I have to be the awful person I was? Why can't I be humble and loving like his mum?"

I thought I should get out of his life.

I took off out the front door.

I was getting out of his life. I had no idea where to. I tearfully wandered aimlessly around the nearby streets feeling dejected and a failure.

When the initial shock of Bill's outburst had worn off I thought 'he can't kick me out of his life. Mark will wake up soon and want a feed; he will have to let me back home he wouldn't know how to look after Mark.'

After a long while of walking the streets I walked back to our street, sure enough I could hear Mark crying, obviously very distressed. I knew Bill would be beside himself with worrying what to do. I felt smug knowing he needed me and couldn't possibly get by without me especially with Mark relying on my breast milk.

I could see Bill pacing the balcony peering into the dark to see if he could spot me, all the while trying to pacify Mark.

Finally he saw me and begged me to come back inside "I am sorry, I didn't mean what I said, I want you here, I need you I love you."

I was so relieved I went inside soothed and fed Mark.

'He does love me, I know, but I must be careful to always be humble and submissive and loving. I do love him and I know he loves me it's just that I upset him sometimes. I wish I could be like his mum.'

Mark's Christening; in the gown I made.

Mark was three months old, although I felt I was always feeding him (on the boobs) and was a slave to his demands we were a happy family. I was the luckiest person in the world, I was sure, but I must remember to mind my p's and q's..

It was time to have Mark christened. Mum and dad came to Adelaide for the occasion. I made a christening gown from the remnants of my wedding frock, I added some exquisite lace and hand stitched herringbone patterns through the silk fabric creating a special christening gown (which I still have).

The christening ceremony was held during the normal church service at our church. It was always held with much pomp and pride. I enjoyed the pomp and was so proud. I made sure Mark had a good feed before the service so he wouldn't be grizzly, it worked, he was the model child amongst more ooing and arring he was christened William Mark Hoad.

I didn't really comprehend what the christening was all about, I couldn't relate to the words recited, our baby was 'christened' 'named' and now we were going home to celebrate. We invited a few of the church folks to help us celebrate with home cooked food and cups of tea. Poppa, Grandpa Gourlay, Grandpa and Grandma Freeman and Bill and I were very proud of W. Mark Hoad.

Mark needed feeding, often; consequently he spent much time on the boob. Breast feeding was a worry to me. I had no idea how much milk he consumed and no idea of the quality. I knew I had to be careful what I ate. I found by trial and error onions made him throw up and chocolate drinks gave him a nasty rash, when raising my concerns to the M&B nurse she said "Keep him on the breast dear. Keep him on the breast." I did.

Mum insisted Mark was hungry.

"He's a big baby he needs more than you have got in you, try him with a small amount of baby rice in milk."

"How am I supposed to give him that?"

"On a teaspoon, but make sure it's very runny."

I did. He gobbled it down. It worked wonders. He didn't need to be on the boob so much. I now firmly believe babies that haven't settled into a routine by three months need extra in their tummies.

Each time mum and dad visited they did a heap of work on our property. Mum detail cleaned throughout including the toaster, the stove, the bathroom and kitchen, all floors and walls etc. which I thought didn't need a clean and a waste of time. ( _I now realise you don't see your own mess)._

Dad tidied the yard and helped Bill with maintenance. Mum suggested this and that needed a freshening up with paint, over the years she practically repainted the whole of the house while they were staying with us; she was happy with a paint brush in her hand and we were able to keep her happy...often.

It was always full on when mum and dad visited, they worked nonstop and when they left it was relief but also a wonderment relishing in the improvements they had achieved.

23rd. September 1964 Roger was 21. Mark was four and a half months old we would drive the Armstrong Sidley to the farm for his party in the car shed. I had the most wonderful baby ever to be born and a flash new car to show off, I was looking forward to proudly displaying my new treasures. Mark slept most of the way he was happy in his bassinet on the back seat with the car in motion.

My dreams of displaying my treasures turned sour. The Armstrong Sidley went unnoticed the locals weren't at all impressed with such an old impractical car, especially in the bush. Holden and Ford Falcons were the favoured cars. We thought these country folks were uneducated as to the quality of cars.

Mark wasn't a happy baby during our time at the farm. I had made lovely clothes for him, but he grizzled when dressed in them. I couldn't fathom why he was so grizzly. Mum suggested maybe he was too hot.

"Take off some of his clothes."

I didn't really have any idea, but I wanted him to be dressed in the new clothes I had made, the weather was much warmer at Penong, so in desperation I stripped him down to singlet and nappy, he was happy. Much to my disgust he spent the rest of our holiday in his singlet and nappy, it was too hot for him to wear the clothes I had lovingly made for Adelaide's cooler temperatures.

Mum had given me the responsibility of planning Roger's twenty first party in a shed on the farm. He was a normal local lad who enjoyed a beer as did all his mates, it must have been as hard for him (as it was for me) being Cliff Freeman's son. Of course there would no beer or any alcohol allowed at his party even though he was now the age of consent. Mum had threatened him to warn his friends not bring alcohol onto the farm. I was to plan and run the party, mum and dad would stay right away from the shed "leaving it to the young ones."

This was a hard party to plan and even harder to execute. I tried my utmost to make it enjoyable, I introduced games which I thought risqué, but without being primed with beer the boys were dour and the girls all huddled together in tight groups. I thought this younger group of teenagers rather strange not wanting to participate in party games...OMG! I realised this was the next generation! I was getting old!

Angie and Christine Kelly, two local girls ages 15 and 14 were at the party, they both sat demurely huddled with the girls. Roger told me later he had designs on Angie though it wasn't obvious at the time. "You have to nab them in the cradle or some-one else will beat you to them." Roger told me.

The party over I went to bed exhausted. Not a sign of any alcohol did I see. Next morning when I got up, displayed in all its glory by the back door in the wheelbarrow was one lone empty beer bottle. I was disgusted at the way mum got messages through to me, without actually saying anything. I was growing to detest her innuendos and newspaper cuttings and verses she slyly put in front of me depicting the morals I should be upholding according to her standards; though the cutting she left on our bed on our return from our honeymoon was the exception.

Back home our lifestyle centred on completing the upstairs flat so we could put a tenant in providing additional income. Mark was now sleeping in the huge iron cot I had lovingly painted with a coat of shiny white enamel paint. _(no warning of lead contamination back then)_.

Before he was born I bought a woolen blanket remnant for the cot from the Onkaparinga factory in the Adelaide Hills which I edged with satin fabric. Mark took to this blanket holding it to his lips as if he was sucking it, though he wasn't, it never got wet.

This rug became Mark's treasured 'security' and 'comfort' blanket, he went to sleep holding it to his lips as if sucking it and woke up doing the same. It was a great comfort to me too.

Finally the day came, the flat was completed with an additional driveway and car park to accommodate an extra car. The flat was bright airy and self-contained featuring the huge deck half the size of the house. We were pleased with the results of our hard work. It was my job to paint, clean and present the flat ready to rent and do the leasing. I advertised it in the Advertiser. There was a shortage of flats so there were many inquiries.

We chose John Pinn a sober minded ambitious young single man who worked for IBM, transferred from Sydney to teach the staff in Adelaide how to operate the very latest invention... computers _(the size of a large room in those days)_. John was a lovely genteel young clean-living man, an ideal tenant, we often asked him downstairs to have dinner with us. We thought him a genius teaching about computers, something we couldn't comprehend.

One day John surprised us by announcing he had invited a lady from Sydney to stay with him a few days. She was very nice also sober minded and studious. John eventually married this lady and they lived in the upstairs flat until he was promoted and transferred to America. We were sorry to lose them as tenants; but wished them well.

I remember one night soon after John had brought his new bride to live upstairs Gerry and Dave were at our place; when they realised we had honeymooners living upstairs they became curious.

"What do you think they are up to? We'll try and listen."

They climbed into the cupboard built around the staircase crawled up to the top and with a glass to their ear held it to the roof of the staircase which was the floor of the kitchen. I felt bad about the invasion of privacy and was relieved when they could hear nothing, though they imagined plenty.

That was the most daring escapade I had ever been involved with, and I wasn't proud of it, I felt it an invasion of our tenant's privacy and I never allowed it to happen again.

Now in this the computer age nearly sixty years on, I often wonder where John is and what he progressed to. John Pinn was the fore runner to Bill Gates, I am sure.

The success of the upstairs flat prompted Bill to divide the downstairs into two flats as quickly as possible, providing more income. This project was more complicated because an additional kitchen and bathroom had to be built. A double brick dividing wall was built across the centre of the large original kitchen to completely separate the downstairs area into two independent areas each half had its own original front and back doors.

Our home just seemed perfect to be converted into flats. One side of the original kitchen remained the kitchen for the one bed roomed flat the other side of the original kitchen was perfect for the new bathroom of the studio flat. The studio flat was originally the dining and sewing rooms until we moved down from upstairs when the dining room became our bedroom.

Bill built a dividing wall in our large lounge creating a bedroom at one end for the new flat. He worked tirelessly every night and all weekends converting our home into flats. I had a full-time job looking after Mark and keeping the place free from building hazards and materials assuring it was a safe environment for an active inquisitive crawling baby.

I managed to paint the studio flat while Mark was asleep, then furnished it. All our flats were self-contained, comfortable, private and of a high standard in a good neighbourhood.

This studio flat was also a lovely light airy one; the two rooms separated by huge double doors featured wall to wall windows opening onto the front veranda and to a wisteria covered pergola at the rear.

Rental premises were still in demand, we had couples and families begging us to allow them to rent the flat but it was only large enough for a single person. It was a prolific introduction for us into the rental business, so many people wanting our flats we had a wide choice to choose from.

We chose an extroverted charming single guy, Paul a salesman selling wholesale stock to shops mainly Pharmacies. We were gathering a lovely lot of 'tenant/friends' around us. How great to be able to choose your neighbours and inevitably friends?

We now lived in a half finished one bedroom flat in the last third of our house. This remaining small portion of our home originally the lounge and kitchen was waiting to be transposed into a comfortable flat suitable for letting, much work was needed. The dividing wall in the lounge creating the bedroom needed patching and painting, open holes in the brick walls where new electrical wires had been installed needed to be plastered, sanded and painted, there was construction mess everywhere.

I knew Bill needed a break he had been working tirelessly. I was amased how talented he was and able to put his hand to any task producing professional results. I didn't mind that our standard of living was reduced to a meagre unfinished single bedroom flat, we were increasing our income and now had two incomes from our home; how decadent of me to expect to live in this large home when it was so suitable for flats.

Mark had to fit around our busy lifestyle, having a morning and afternoon sleep every day allowed me to work on the flats, we planned our lives around these sleeps, so long as he wasn't tired he was happy, he would only sleep in his own cot so we tended not to go out, it was all too hard, while he slept it was bliss we got much work done.

Mark was nine months old. I had regularly attended the Mothers and Babies clinic though by now only about once a month when they needed to update his progress in the records. I was so proud of my baby, he was the best looking, best behaved, healthiest baby that ever was born. The M&B nurse agreed with me. She asked me how I was feeling, I admitted I was feeling so tired, her usual response "Keep him on the breast dear, keep him on the breast."

I wasn't learning anything new from M&B. Why was I wasting my time? At Mark's next scheduled visit to doctor I mentioned how tired I felt, he asked "Are you still breast feeding?"

"Yes. "No-one had told me to stop.

"Oh, Goodness." said doctor "that's why you are feeling so tired, the baby is draining you. The baby gets all the goodness necessary from breastfeeding in the first three months, after that it's a mother's choice whether she wants to carryon breastfeeding."

Why wasn't I told? It was nine months of hard solitary labour for me.

I stopped immediately, there posed another problem, Mark refused to suck on a rubber teat from a bottle, he had never had a dummy so rubber was foreign to him, he spat it out amidst an outburst; eventually he drank all his liquids from a cup, a bit messy at first, but he soon mastered the special baby cup.

A benefit of breast feeding and being 'drained' was weight loss. I was now a stone lighter than before I got pregnant. I had continued doing the standard exercises the hospital had recommended, I felt I was beginning to lose some weight in the right places. After weaning Mark I soon lost the tiredness. I was feeling fit, happy and content.

Mark was crawling everywhere, he was into everything; our small half finished flat wasn't the best environment to be raising an active toddler, it was a nightmare keeping him away from works in progress.

Bill liked to spend time with Mark on weekends (I liked it too) in his workshop in our back yard. Bill being home was a great break for me, not only did he occupy Mark but it allowed me unrestricted use of the car. Shopping was easier with the car, I scurried to do as much as I could Saturday mornings before all shops closed for the weekend at 11.30am.

Soon the workshop became too dangerous for Mark to be given free range to roam and play in, he was into everything; he loved the tools, the dirt, the grease, the open shelves and all the wonderful gadgets on them.

Bill decided to 'childproof' his workshop. He worked tirelessly for two weekends building shelves high enough for a toddler not to reach, he made wooden hinged covers for the lower shelves all with hidden 'childproof' latches; he was very pleased with himself. I was pleased too, to me the workshop looked secure, the shelves were either too high or securely locked. Next weekend Bill would be able to work in his workshop with Mark knowing he'd be perfectly safe from harmful tools.

Next Saturday after shopping I found a very dejected father and a very happy son. Mark in no time at all had discovered where the hidden 'child proof' locks were, how to open them and was enjoying playing with the 'safely hidden' gadgets. The funniest thing about the whole scenario was Bill had trouble finding the hidden locks and opening the covers to get to the shelves; he waited for Mark to do it for him. I was so proud of my clever son. I think Bill was too.

After a few weeks of living in the unsatisfactory environment of our cramped flat with no progress happening on the half-finished renovations I was so frustrated trying to keep Mark safe I dared to complain to Bill, he gave me the impression I was ungrateful.

"I have worked to provide three extra incomes." he said "I am still working, you are the one not working, you are home all day, surely instead of looking at the work that needs doing and winging about it, you can do something about it yourself."

I was rather taken aback. I was happy to paint once the construction was completed, but I had never done any building or renovation work. I assumed this was man's work, the lady did the painting.

"I don't know what to do."

Bill showed me how to mix plaster, spread it into the gaps, let it dry, sand it, fill in any more gaps, sand it again ready for painting.

"I will check it before you paint." he said.

I rushed through my chores, there wasn't a lot of house to clean, keeping Mark occupied was the hardest chore for me. I was plastering where electrical wires had been set into the kitchen wall when I had an unexpected visitor. Jean and her baby son the same age as Mark called in. She was in shock to find me doing 'a man's job'.

"I would never do that." she said. "I would never have given up my home. You are mad."

"I don't mind, I quite enjoy it, I can't expect Bill to work all day, then come home and work all night when I am here doing nothing, well doing nothing productive."

I never considered we were doing anything outlandish, when Bill showed me how easily our home could be converted to flats it seemed too easy not to do it. Bill was so clever. I had recovered from the shock of finding my clean organised home in turmoil when bringing Mark home for the first time.

I finally completed all I could, there was still some construction work for Bill to do, but at least now Mark could maneuver his way safely around the flat, he still wasn't walking but managed to crawl everywhere at an alarming pace, so much so he spent quite a lot of his waking hours in a playpen with a heap of toys, I knew he was safe in the playpen, a fold-up wooden slatted apparatus opening out to approximately six feet square, popular for busy mums.

Mark didn't walk unaided until he was well over a year old. An elderly friend of mum's, Alice Branch we had visited in hospital as she was dying, in appreciation of our visit secretly arranged for a plastic ride-on toy tractor to be delivered for Mark. This tractor became his favourite toy; even before he was able to ride it he played with the wheels. I'd lift him onto it and long before he could walk he discovered he could move it along by pushing his tiptoes along the ground, he was mobile. Mark loved this plastic tractor, as he grew he became a master at maneuvering this treasured toy around our flat dodging all the 'stuff' that cluttered it. I think the mobility this tractor afforded Mark may have attributed to him being a late walker.

Our lovely Armstrong Sidley didn't like hot weather, this English car was made to suit the conditions in England not the hot conditions we experienced in Australia, the motor run hot if we went too far on a hot day, very inconvenient and uncomfortable. I wasn't accustomed to unreliable cars, to me this car was just a show car not one bit practical. Bill decided to sell it before summer set in. An unsuspecting car enthusiast bought it privately, the day was quite warm we hoped he made it to his home at Elizabeth before it boiled.

Bill found another car "it's just the one".

"What is it?" I asked expectantly knowing it would be something unusual, something I had never heard of.

Sure enough, it was a Simca Vedette, a six-year-old French car. It looked showy and had lots of standard extras which impressed me. Holden was a basic car though extra features were available at an extra cost. I had always convinced dad we needed these extras, such as sun visors, window windshields and flick up rear vision mirrors, but the Simca Vedette had all those features as standard and many more. I never dreamed so many extras could be installed in a car, it was way ahead of its era.

I loved this Simca Vedette. It was easier to drive and manoeuvre (no power steering then) and far more reliable than the Armstrong Sidley: an added bonus, with just a normal clean it looked lovely and shiny, like new.

Now we had a more reliable car we drove to the farm a ten to twelve-hour trip, the bitumen road ended just west of Pt. Augusta with dirt the rest of the way and many corrugations and lots of dust. Mark was happy being rocked along in a car, he slept most of the way; we knew he would. The car went well, Bill was happy with its performance I was happy with its reliability and little extras.

This reliable Simca Vedette allowed us more freedom of travel. Aldinga Beach was a favourite holiday destination just over an hour's drive from home along a narrow windy road through the hills of the Fleurieu Peninsular south of Adelaide. This small beachside settlement had one permanent resident, the owner of the small general store and his family. A few shacks were nestled amongst the trees and scrub near the entrance through dunes to the pristine beach. This beach was popular because of unrestricted driving all the way past Silver Sands to Sellicks Hill beach. It was so convenient being able to drive onto the beach and park on the water's edge with all the beach gear in the car.

We often hired a privately owned small, neat shack with two bedrooms, a kitchen/living room, and a bathroom at one end of the enclosed back veranda. The toilet was a long drop in the back yard.

What wonderful holidays we had here. I loved having the beach so nearby especially Aldinga beach where access to the beach was via a walking track through the dunes or we could drive and park anywhere we chose along the miles of pristine white sands right on the water's edge, what an absolute luxury for me.

Though Mark wasn't walking he loved the beach too, he loved the sand and water, and the healthy sea air assured he slept soundly all night. I relished wearing bathers most of the time including Mark who wore little bathers I had made. I couldn't believe how much laundry was saved just by wearing scant clothes. I enjoyed the small reprieve from excessive daily laundry and washing endless nappies.

Some weekends we'd invite Margaret and Bernie, Gerry and Dave to join us, it was a squeeze for us all to fit, but we had so much fun and much laughter. One weekend Margaret brought a huge jar of nuts. We pigged out on nuts. Soon the farting started. Bill and I always concealed our farts even from each other; I was never allowed to fart in mum and dad's presence it was classed disgraceful.

To my astonishment Dave and Bernie started having noisy fart contests as to who could make the loudest noise and strongest smell, on cue. Soon we were all joining in, we couldn't help ourselves the nuts had bloated us full of wind. This to me was very daring and bold; I felt I was being liberated. Yes!!!!! And FREE...... But Oh! The little shack did stink.

We loved Aldinga Beach; we looked at shacks and land for sale. The beach front shacks and blocks were way too expensive for us. One holiday we found a gently sloped block a short walk from the beach with lots of established native trees, including large red and ghost gums. We fell in love with the natural beauty of the block especially the trees, it was definitely the best block in Aldinga Beach and we could afford it. We bought this block. I felt extravagant.

This was the only property we owned that wasn't income producing and we had no idea what we would do with it. Bill suggested we put a 'For Sale' sign on it, with a ridiculously high price, if some-one bought it we would make a 100% profit. We had many inquiries for this block but no-one was prepared to pay our price, that was OK we didn't really want to sell it.

Since I stopped breast feeding we were taking precautions to prevent pregnancy, back to the 'rhythm method' withdrawal and 'safe periods'. The only contraception we practiced was the rhythm cycle which was simply being careful during the most fertile period the middle of the monthly cycle and relaxing a few days before and after the menstruation period when conception was unlikely.

I was feeling good since stopping breastfeeding I had more energy and stamina: I had lost all my baby fat and some more. I was feeling fit well and happy. I felt so good that one night making love I didn't want Bill to withdraw I wanted more; maybe I could achieve the elusive penetrating orgasm. My menstruation had stopped a few days earlier I knew we would be taking a chance on conception if we 'went all the way', but I was desperate to reach a satisfying orgasm.

"Don't stop, we'll take a chance".

Sure enough I missed my next menstrual period... then the next. Doctor confirmed I would have a baby the following March. Although this pregnancy wasn't planned, we took a chance and it happened, we were both happy. We were adding to our family.

Mark would be twenty months old when the new baby arrived we thought that was a good age to bring a new sibling into his life. It would be lovely if it was a girl, a pigeon pair how perfect but we didn't really care so long as it was healthy; we never knew what sex the baby would be unless it was 'spotted' in x-rays if one was needed in dire circumstances.

My life was bliss. I had everything, a wonderful husband, a perfect son, no financial worries and expecting another baby.

As my pregnancy progressed I realised we couldn't stay in the one bed roomed flat with a second child, it was a tight squeeze as it was. Bill didn't seem to notice he spent all weekdays at work and weekends in his workshop in the back yard. He was blissfully happy doing his drawing designing and cabinet making.

Finally he came to realise it would be far too cramped with two babies living in such a confined space. I had no idea how we could solve the problem but Bill suggested we move into our house next door. I shuddered to think of moving into such a rundown old home with no mod cons. As it happened it was becoming vacant, the second tenants had given notice. Burns and James's our original tenants had moved into their own homes after renting it for a year.

The current tenants caused much amusement when they moved in. I chose from the many applicants a well-groomed vivacious lady in her late twenties who was looking for a place to rent for herself and her husband "who was interstate" she wanted to have their home organised for his return. I thought that was so lovely and considerate of her. The day they moved in we weren't there but Dave was, working on the flat.

"What on earth have you got next door? They are all Lesbians."

"No! That's impossible the lady I did the business with isn't a Lesbian. I'm sure."

"Well" said Dave "they couldn't lift anything heavy, I had to help them with the heavy stuff especially the fridge."

"Was her husband there?"

"Yes she introduced me to her husband, but he was so feeble with such a limp handshake, he looked more like a sheila."

I didn't believe him. These tenants were so quiet, we never heard or saw them except when collecting the rent, then only the well-groomed wife a polite and bubbly lady.

One day there was trouble with the plumbing Bill went in to fix it. Finally he met the husband. Bill was confused he talked to Bill as man to man though had the build and voice of a woman. As they were talking the husband rested his leg up on a step with his elbow on his knee, Bill tried to ascertain if there were bulges in his crotch, he couldn't; when I finally met him he was gracious and polite to me as well but I also was confused he looked like a female in men's clothes.

Kensington Park was on older suburb of Adelaide, in our street there were quite a few widows living alone including one next door to this property. As it was in those days everyone knew everyone in the street and gossiped, especially the widows. Word soon got back to us via one of the widows.

"Those tenants of yours are a disgrace, you should see the underwear they hang on their clothes line."

I nearly choked with mirth

"How do you know what they hang on their clothe line?"

"My friend next door said."

"Well you tell her it's none of her or anyone's business what they hang on their clothesline."

These tenant were good tenants they kept the yard tidy the house immaculate and tastefully furnished, we didn't care what else they did, it was none of our business, however Bill discreetly told them about the gossipy widows. I think once they were aware of the neighbours interest they were more discreet. I wondered what sort of underwear could upset the widows so. I never did find out.

When these tenants vacated Bill had to help them move the heavy stuff, they, especially the husband just weren't strong enough to lift it. This couple kept up their facade for the length of their tenure and we played their game they were good tenants we had no reason not to. I realise now the 'husband' was surely a female. Totally illegal in those days!

I was six months pregnant when these 'different' tenants moved out of next door. Bill suggested we move in and let the flat. Next door had four large main rooms leading off a long hallway entrance, two rooms were bedrooms the other two had decorative glass double doors separating them, one was a lounge the other a dining room, a lean-to across the back provided a kitchen/dining, bathroom and laundry.

I looked at the house, there were huge cracks you could see into the next room through, there wasn't a cupboard or wardrobe in the whole place, the kitchen only had an old sink cupboard no others, next to the kitchen was the bathroom, it did have a bath though very stained, with a small gas water heater above it servicing the bath only, the laundry in a lean to on the lean to kitchen sported a gas copper for hot water. The floor coverings were worn, ill-fitting and tattered, the walls were dismal with peeling paint. I was horrified, I couldn't move into this. Bill gently convinced me it could be cleaned and made comfortable.

He patched the cracks, we stripped all the floor coverings, we painted all the walls and woodwork, we laid new brightly coloured linoleum, we bought secondhand kitchen cupboards painted them and tacked matching linoleum on the bench tops. The house interior looked fresh bright and was spotlessly clean. The most inviting element for me was space.

We moved in, though there were no wardrobes Bill promised he would build one in our bedroom, in the meantime we bought an old wooden one from a secondhand shop; this wardrobe was a godsend to me and served us for many years.

Lucky took the move in her stride, she took no time to settle next door and spent most of her time on one of the beds. Ours was the front bedroom, Mark had the back bedroom, when the baby arrived it would sleep in the bassinet in the front lounge room where the piano and the furniture Bill had made for his mother were, out of bounds from Mark and his ride-on tractor. The formal dining room would be our living room with the TV. Most of our clothes were on the floor of our bedroom which bugged me, I nagged Bill about cupboards but his first priority was preparing the flat we had vacated for rental.

Everything in the flat had to be completed before occupancy by tenants. I watched in awe as Bill expertly completed all the unfinished jobs I had learned to live with, all professionally fixed in record time before tenants moved in. I enviously watched as he meticulously completed the work, how I would like to have enjoyed living with the flat properly furnished and detailed instead of 'making do' as best I could in a flat half finished.

Poppa also a handyman helped Bill finish the flat; he also saw many things he could do in our new home and did them. His help was invaluable I was so grateful. Bill's first priority was the income producing property.

I advertised and once again chose our tenants. We always chose young married couples and there were many. Couples didn't live together until they married, it just wasn't acceptable in those days, newly married couples saving to buy their first home rented a flat until they could afford to buy or build their own.

Our lovely first marital home was now a functional block of three flats. Bill still used the shed at the back for his workshop; there were enough designated car spaces for each flat without the shed that would remain Bill's domain where he spent most of his spare time.

Mark just loved our new home, he had so much more space to race around on his ride-on tractor, and I mean race; he pushed this toy with his feet along the floor as hard as he could in the sparsely furnished living room making a deafening roaring sound as he raced around banging into our newly painted foot high wooden skirting boards.

We eventually taught him not to bang into the skirting boards, it took a while, but he soon mastered the technique of roaring up to the wall and stopping within a hairs whisker of the skirtings, then making a brrrmm, brrrmm sound as he backed up and raced to the other side wall stopping just in the nick of time.

Poppa thought if there was a trailer attached to the rear of the tractor it may slow him down. Poppa bought a suitable toy trailer with sides, the handle fitted perfectly over the tractor tow bar, it slowed him down for two seconds he soon learned to manoeuvre this double rig forwards and backwards with great skill, never knocking or running into anything. Mark was happy.

I was happy he was entertained most of his waking hours riding his tractor and trailer around the house and yard, and footpath when the gate was open. I always opened the gate for Bill as he was due home from work to save him getting out of the car.

February 14th, 1966. This date brought change to Australia; our monetary currency changed to the metric system. The metric system was a simpler system working from one to ten. Our pound shilling and pence money was considered confusing, twelve pence in a shilling, twenty shillings in a pound, twenty-one shillings in a guinea, two shillings in a florin, a halfpenny equaled half a penny, a penny quart equaled a quarter of a penny.

The metric system though seemingly simpler was confusing for us, a cent was near enough to a penny, sixpence equaled five cents, a shilling equaled ten cents and ten shillings equaled a dollar. It took us a long time to accept the metric system as our natural monetary system.

My baby was nearly due. Mum had agreed to come and stay to look after Mark and Bill while I was in hospital. Seeding wouldn't have started yet, so mum could be spared from the farm for a short time, I was so grateful.

Mum was sure I would never move into the modest house 'next door', she was wrong, she hadn't reckoned on Bill's gentle persuasion and my desperate need of more rooms and space.

The last visit to doctor before my baby was due showed everything was in order and the baby probably would be born without complications on the due date.

"I saw Mark riding his tractor up and the footpath as if he owned the street." doctor said; as an aside he added "he probably will one day."

I thought that was a rather rash remark, though we had looked at another house in the street Bill thought could be converted to flats. Bill was always looking and scheming.

I knew what to expect with this baby when the contractions started. I rang Bill at work, he came home and drove me to Burnside Hospital on Kensington Road; he dropped me off and quickly left.

I had only just finished being shaved and emptying my bowels with the help of the dreaded enema when without any fuss or too many severe pains our second child was born.

Great elation! A daughter! We had our pigeon pair.

Our lives, marriage, union and family was complete.

# Chapter 9

## Le-Anne Karen Hoad

Le-Anne Karen Hoad was born at 6pm 23rd March 1966. She weighed seven pounds eight ounces (3.402 kg.)A perfect beautiful baby daughter, I was so happy, so was Bill when he came in to see me next day and viewed our daughter through the glass partition of the nursery, she was sound asleep in her bassinet. Still it was only staff allowed in the nursery because of disruption and wayward germs, mothers often stood at the viewing window peering in to see their baby.

I was so pleased we had a baby girl it alleviated the brutal circumcision ordeal; I didn't like the thought of my baby going through the crude circumcision procedure.

I had a private room, I was pleased, it afforded me quiet times where I completely rested and relaxed away from temptations to hype myself up with other new mothers. I needed to use this time in hospital as a holiday, it would be full on when I went home with a new baby, a very active demanding toddler and a hard-working husband who needed me and my support as well.

The first time Bill brought Mark in to see me I was sitting on the lawn in the hospital grounds, while sitting there another new mother said to me "How can you sit there like that? I bet you didn't have any stitches."

No I hadn't, though Bill jokingly told our friends "I wish she did have stitches."

When Mark saw me sitting on the lawn he ran to me, jumped on me and hugged me, realisation must have hit him, he felt my tummy then lifted up my nightdress and dressing gown and peered up toward my flattened belly. I explained about his new baby sister Le-Anne etc. etc. I don't think anything registered, but I wanted to be open and explain everything to my children, I didn't want to hide anything from them.

We took Mark to the nursery and pointed out his new sister through the glass window. Mark was a late talker so it was rather hard to communicate, we don't know if he understood.

One morning the nurses burst into my room

"GUESS WHAT?" they virtually screamed.

"What's happened to my baby?"

"No! No! Your baby is okay." I was so relieved.

"Guess what? Your doctor is engaged to be married."

I couldn't believe it either, it was assumed he would remain a bachelor doctor, he was such a dedicated finicky no nonsense introverted doctor we were sure 'Aunty Betty' would devote his total being to serving his patients, well, we were wrong he had a life other than us selfish patients.

The nurses congregated in my ward waiting for him so they could congratulate him. He actually smiled when he entered and witnessed the reception by the nurses. As he was examining Le-Anne, one of the more forward extroverted nurses said "I suppose you will have one of these in about a year?"

I was surprised she could be so bold as to suggest such a thing.

Doctor didn't flinch and replied "Maybe."

From that day on doctor showed more feeling for the patients and more patience with children. It was a good thing he was getting married he was mellowing.

By the time I went home from hospital I felt rested. I knew what was awaiting me this time and I knew my home wouldn't be in the upheaval-led state I had taken Mark home to. The flats were established and running efficiently, mum would have the housework done and the place neat and tidy, she would stay a few days before she went back to the farm for seeding. I felt I was capable of managing my young family and husband with a clean tidy home to go home to.

Me, Le-Anne 2 weeks, Mark 2 standing on the dividing fence between our properties

Le-Anne slotted easily into our lives; she was such a good baby. I had kidded myself Mark was a good baby, but I didn't know what good was until Le-Anne came along. she did everything I expected babies to do when they were supposed to do it.

Mark a 'terrible twos' toddler was far more demanding than Le-Anne, by the time I saw to Mark's needs Le-Anne had given up crying and was asleep. I liked to think Mark loved his baby sister, but I had to watch him closely or he'd attempt to poke her in the eye with his finger. I had to keep Mark away from his baby sister and Lucky away from the bassinet.

I knew what to expect in raising a second child. I couldn't believe how easy the second child's upbringing was compared to the first. I couldn't wait until Le-Anne was three months old to wean her and get her onto 'solids', milked down baby rice, then progress to strained foods. Solids weren't recommended until a child was at least six months old. I bet the old maid who made that recommendation never had a baby of her own.

Le-Anne was like a little doll, she lay patiently and gurgled wherever I lay her, she slept when I put her to bed she woke up when she should. I could not believe the difference in my two babies.

This home proved to be more than adequate for our growing family, it was spacious and clean with a separate bedroom for everyone even though Mark loved to sleep in with us which we normally didn't allow, well not during the night unless he was sick, but when he woke each morning he made a beeline for our bed consequently it was a morning ritual for the three of us to enjoy cuddling and playing in bed together.

Le-Anne slept in the bassinet in the front lounge, occasionally when grizzly I put the bassinet alongside our bed. I found it was easier access to the bassinet for feeds. I also discovered it was easier to breast feed her while I was in bed, though we often fell asleep together. I couldn't sit in the cold living room like I did with Mark.

This living TV room had one chair for Bill and two good quality fold up webbed loll-a-bouts mum had given us. I loved relaxing in these loll-a-bouts; whenever I sat down, especially while breastfeeding. I always sat in the loll-a-bout chair with my feet up in total relaxation mode which revitalised me. I used these chairs for many years in fact until they had both fallen into disrepair.

Over the years we had varied and interesting tenants, they also became friends as well as neighbours. We were talked into having two showgirls rent the upstairs flat, our policy was no single girls, but these two girls came highly recommended and were in Adelaide to perform a season in a popular Musical show at Adelaide's premium entertainment venue Her Majesty's Theatre in Grote Street.

Of course the girls loved the flat when they saw it, the lady who brought them verified for them and offered us a higher rent for a shorter term, the length of the shows season in Adelaide. On this lady's recommendations our policy of only renting to married couples for a long lease went out the window, we accepted these two girls as tenants at a higher than normal rental.

They proved to be such a joy and help. They worked late into the night and enjoyed a 'home life' in our flat during the day, much more homely and enjoyable for them than a hotel room. They loved Mark and loved playing nanny to him. I loved it as much as Mark did, he enjoyed so much devoted attention, they virtually reared him while they were with us, it gave me time to devote to Le-Anne without Mark feeling 'left out'.

The culmination of these girls stay with us was an invitation to attend one of their shows. Bill and I never got to go out alone we had never left the children.

A Greek family lived opposite, the youngest of the three children Penny was a responsible university student, we talked to her and her mother and decided with her family living opposite as a backup it was okay to have her baby sit.

We had centre front row seats and really enjoyed the show. The glamorous costumes left me in awe, this was our first live show, such a treat we felt so special, especially knowing some of the performers. We were impressed with our tenants acting and dancing abilities, we had no idea how hard they had to work in producing such a great show, their performance was perfection. We enthusiastically applauded along with everyone else.

We were invited backstage to mingle and meet with the cast members. When we arrived home Mark and Le-Anne were sound asleep, Penny proved a capable reliable babysitter she loved our kids and they loved her, we were so lucky to have her living just across the road.

We were sad when the season of the musical finished and the girls moved back to Sydney. It had been an amicable arrangement suiting us all.

I then let this flat to an older couple; though they weren't the usual type of young married applicants we preferred, they were clean, well dressed, paid the rent regularly, were quiet and kept to themselves.

One day the police called, these tenants had illegally dumped rubbish including letters with their name and address enabling the police to trace them. They weren't home but I told the police I would talk to them. I couldn't believe this quiet couple would do anything wrong. I told them what the police said.

Next morning they were gone... without a trace, the rent was paid in advance and they didn't even claim their bond; that had never happened to us before. I relet the flat immediately and forgot about them until...

I later read Ronald Biggs and his wife had been hiding in Adelaide but had disappeared. Ronald often changed his appearance and I wondered if he had been our tenant because he had similar features and was the right age.

Ronald Biggs was wanted for escaping from a prison after robbing the Glasgow to London mail train in 1964. He was on the run for 34 years and seen in many countries including Adelaide, but always managed to escape.

I rented the downstairs one bedroom flat to a young married couple both medical doctors; we thought we were very lucky to have doctors in our flat. They were quiet tenants, seldom home and always had the rent ready for me to collect, but I noticed they weren't tidy people, the table and bench tops were continually loaded with bottles, tins, junk etc.

When they vacated the premises though there was no damage, the flat was the dirtiest I had ever seen a home. The kitchen table and bench tops were literally caked with filth around where the long-standing tins and cans stood. The stainless-steel sink needed scraping to remove the imbedded grime. I was horrified how people could live amidst such filth, especially doctors.

Paul the tenant in the downstairs studio flat a swathe salesman full of charisma and charm introduced me to SMA a new baby formula he was promoting through chemist shops and gave me a few tins to try. Le-Anne was three months old, following Doctors advice I felt I had done my duty of breastfeeding, I was feeling drained, I would wean her and try the new formula which was widely recommended and quite expensive to buy. Le-Anne thrived on the formula; I began to feel alive and energetic again. I was so grateful to Paul for giving us the tins of formula and it saved us heaps of money.

Paul was a social guy, his friends were well mannered and educated and he had lots of friends, he was planning a party for them in his two roomed studio flat. He invited us and our other tenants as well.

We were horrified at the thought of a party for so many people in such a small space, we worried about the mess and wear and tear it would cause. I couldn't imagine how he could successfully throw a party, all the same we were pleased to be invited; at least we would know what was happening in our flat and not worry about what might be happening.

The party night arrived, about thirty elite young people attended, there was standing room only and then at a squeeze. I had never experienced such a party; everyone drank alcohol and smoked cigarettes while chatting to the people they were squeezed into.

I thought it a wise move to invite all who lived in the block as well as the owners who lived next door, there could be no complaints from them if they were at the party. It was all very proper and civilized. Bill and I left well before the party finished.

Paul said everyone absolutely enjoyed themselves and the party was a huge success.

This party was an introduction into alternate lifestyles for me and surprisingly there was no mess or obvious wear and tear.

Le-Anne 8 months

I was feeling so good since I stopped breastfeeding. Le-Anne was such a well-behaved baby, she slept all night, she never grizzled, Mark was controllable at home, both children had a morning and an afternoon sleep which allowed me uninterrupted time to do extra jobs or sewing.

The mornings were taken up with house cleaning and the endless heap of daily washing including many nappies. Two babies in nappies created so much washing, even so I had my life well organised, I was in a workable routine, I had regularly kept up the exercise program in my daily routine, I was happy and content and I wasn't over eating, I had lost nearly another stone in weight.

I felt I was looking good as well as feeling the best I had ever felt. I felt I was becoming like Bill's mum; he hadn't complained of late. We enjoyed much lovemaking, being careful not to get pregnant. We had our pigeon pair. We were a perfect family. Life was so good. I was happy and exuberant... OOOPS...

I must have overstepped the mark again, out of the blue Bill lashed out at me, hitting me with his fist clenched arm across my arms as I protected myself. It hurt, as it always did. I was glad this attack was after the children were all in bed; I didn't want them to witness me being punished for not being a good wife and mother.

"I MUST watch myself. I must remember my marriage vows. I must obey. I must remain subservient. I must try and be more like his mum."

Shopping was the biggest chore for me. Most shops I needed were a short walk to the end of our street. Le-Anne was happy in the pram and Mark sat in a seat fitted over the front of the pram so if we needed extra supplies during the week we'd walk to the shops which closed at 5.30pm every night well before Bill arrived home with the car.

Occasionally I'd need to go to Myer in Rundle Street the main shopping precinct in Adelaide so I'd brave the exercise of taking Bill to work and picking him up after; a real chore and time waster for me but I shopped at Myer because I knew a lot of the staff and the layout of the store, also Mark always insisted on walking instead of sitting on the pram seat, he loved to wander happily around not a bit concerned where I was, consequently I would lose him.

The first time I lost Mark in Myer I worried, I knew he wouldn't be distressed and attract attention to himself and that he may walk out of the store into Rundle Street unnoticed. Rundle Street was a busy street then with much traffic including trams and buses travelling up and down. I knew there was a 'lost child' section in Myer, I would look there first. Sure enough, there was Mark happy as Larry being entertained by the kind staff as a poor lost child.

Over the years I lost the kids many times in Myer. It was almost a ritual, I knew they were being looked after and enjoying the experience so I raced around, did the shopping I needed to do in a lot less time than if I had the children in tow. When I had finished my shopping I guiltily rushed to see if they were in the 'lost child' section as my conscience and guilt caught up with me.

"What if they are not in there?"

They always were.

There were no childcare centres, no crèches, and no help for young mothers in those days. How I wished?

Leanne was just over three months old; I had stopped breastfeeding; my next period was a little late I didn't think it was possible I was pregnant but I jokingly told our tenants "I could be pregnant again."

I noticed the look of pity on Paul's face. I was touched by his concern for my welfare; I had never had anyone show such concern. I felt honoured he even bothered socialising with us I thought he was such a worldly guy.

My periods arrived. I wasn't pregnant. I knew it wasn't possible!

Poppa visited every Wednesday, when Mark could walk Poppa took him for a drive each time he visited. Poppa was rather a hap-hazard driver, it gave me the shivers waving goodbye to them as they drove off with Mark standing unsteadily on the front seat of Poppa's car.(There was no such thing as seat belts.)

Lucky I wasn't a worrywart. I never worried about anything until I knew what it was I had to worry about then I would deal with the problem. Fortunately Poppa always arrived home safely. It was good for Mark to have a one on one experience with Poppa, and Poppa said he was always well behaved, but Poppa never rocked the boat, Mark could do as he pleased when with him.

I appreciated Poppa's commitment to Mark it was so good for them both. On these weekly outings they usually visited Bill's cousin Rita at Hazelwood Park. Rita had never married she virtually took on the role of Grandma in lieu of Bill's mum. Bill's mum had asked Rita to look after Bill if anything ever happened to her, so Rita now ably filled the role of Grandma, she also had seven nieces and nephews she was a loving 'grandma' to. Rita was such a treasure to us always ready to assist in any way, as she was with her own nieces and nephews.

My next period was late. I was sure I wasn't pregnant. I was surely going through a 'late period' time after the birth of a second child.

NO... I wasn't going through a 'late period' time, much to our surprise, also to doctor's surprise, he confirmed I was pregnant.

He was quite perturbed I had fallen pregnant so soon after the birth of our second child.

"What birth control did you use?" he asked.

"The rhythm and withdrawal method."

"Oh!" he exclaimed "You can't rely on that after you've had babies, your body changes."

'Now you tell me' I thought.

I was to give birth the following May. Le-Anne would be just over thirteen months old Mark would still be two years of age.

Bill was in denial, he jokingly said "It wasn't me, who have you been messing around with?"

"No-one and I don't remember when it could have happened, it must have been one of those occasions I was asleep." I daringly replied.

I really couldn't remember or even assume when I could have conceived I thought we'd been careful enough not to conceive.

Our friends and tenants didn't know whether to be happy or sad for us. I didn't either. I just got on with coping with getting through each day. I suffered the usual morning sickness, and tiredness. I made sure I had a sleep each day while Mark and Le-Anne had their sleep.

Charismatic Paul seemed quite concerned how I was coping, he thought I needed a rest, he offered to take me with him to Melbourne when he drove there on a business trip. I thought he was joking.

"No I am serious; you need a spell. Just get in the car and come. I'll only be away a few days it will do you good, you deserve it."

"I can't possible go with you, who would look after Bill and the children?"

He turned to Bill and seriously said "You can, she needs a break."

I thought Paul had really lost the plot.

Bill made sure he always collected his rents from that day, I had nothing more to do with Paul again,. Bill saw to that though Paul continued supplying us with SMA baby formula for which we were most grateful.

I was soon back wearing my flowing maternity frocks again I felt I hadn't been out of them for three years. I liked wearing the flowing frocks because it concealed my tummy. I have always had a big stomach the worry of my life but being pregnant alleviated my tummy woes. I was careful what I ate through my pregnancies and was happy to be still slowly losing weight. Doctor was pleased with my weight gain during this pregnancy "all baby" he mused.

During this mini-skirted era I was happy to wear my flowing maternity frocks, it would have been so restrictive tending to my babies trying to keep my dignity intact in a mini skirted outfit though no-one in those days appeared to worry; many extreme sizes and leg shapes were boldly displayed.

I was shocked at how short the skirts were worn, mini was taken to the extreme. I liked to keep up with the fashions but pregnancy had prevented it, so I wore the same old maternity frocks. After this baby I would throw them out because I definitely wasn't having any more children.

Le-Anne had taken to a small pillow I had made her, she carried that pillow around everywhere with her as her 'security' or 'comfort' item, so now I had a large blanket which never left Mark, he dragged it everywhere, and a small pillow to work around. Le-Anne had grown out of the bassinet, we had to buy another cot; we bought a wooden fold up one (banned from sale or use these days as being unsafe).

Mark wasn't ready to sleep in a single bed, he was happy in his big iron cot where I knew he was safe and not able to get out and into mischief, he was becoming quite a naughty demanding child. Mum had warned me I should be stricter with him. I didn't want to bring him up in a no world like I had been. I realised later this was a bad decision.

Mark now wouldn't respond to any authority that didn't suit him, he at the slightest whim rebelled by performing a tantrum often lying on the floor and screaming and flinging himself around. I was at a loss as to what to do. I overlooked these tantrums while we were at home which we usually were, we seldom went out. I think I was in denial of my perfect son being anything but perfect.

Grocery shopping was the biggest chore for me, it had to be done between the children's sleeps or else they'd be too tired and cranky. With Le-Anne in the pram Mark in the seat on the front we occasionally walked to the shops at the end of our street. Le-Anne was never a problem she always behaved as I thought babies should, she was just like a doll, Mark on the other hand was the opposite, he wouldn't stay in his seat he insisted on running around the shop and getting into everything, pulling things off the shelves in a defiant act of demolition, saying "no" meant not a thing to him, it was so embarrassing.

One day at the shops Mark was particularly naughty, I chastised him he flew into one of his uncontrollable rages. I was at a complete loss as to what to do.

I thought "Wait till I get him home".

When we arrived home of course it was too late to further chastise him, he wouldn't understand anyway, so what was the point? Bill didn't want to know about these incidents, it was a mother's job to raise the children. I was at a loss; it was easier to stay home where he had a morning and afternoon sleep which he needed so as not to get tired and irritable but the tantrums became more regular, he was a defiant naughty child, each time he didn't get his way he rolled on the floor kicking and screaming, he refused to respond to any discipline.

Mark was dangerous around his sister; I couldn't leave them together unsupervised. I realised I couldn't have three children dictating to me as Mark did, especially acting as the role model for his younger siblings. Tough love must be exercised which was harder on me than on Mark, but I persevered. Bill as usual left all the disciplining and the raising of the children to me.

I relished the time Bill spent with the children when he got home from work, allowing me to prepare dinner without interruptions. After dinner was hectic until the dishes were washed and the children bathed and put to bed. Oh what a relief! Peace at last. This was our nightly routine. During the day I concentrated on making sure Mark knew right from wrong and accepted the fact. He earned himself many smacks on the bum though through a nappy so certainly I didn't hurt him but I knew I must persevere or else we could possibly have three unruly children. Slowly Mark responded and soon accepted a modicum of discipline.

Time passed in a haze of daily routine. One day Bev's husband Tony a travelling salesman at the time called in, I thought it was nice of him.

He needed his trousers shortened he could only afford one good pair which he had on, the ones that needed shortening. I told him to take them off and I'd do it while he had a cup of coffee, which I did. We giggled over the thought of him taking off his trousers in the presence of a lady. I thought it quite daring thing to do especially me who was ever so proper.

"A man called in on me today and took off his trousers." I boldly told Bill when he came home from work; he saw nothing funny in that statement.

I quickly explained.

In no uncertain terms Bill told me Tony wasn't to visit me at home alone during the day again.

I didn't know how I could prevent it without appearing rude, but Tony never did call in again alone. I was disappointed because he was a fun guy, I enjoyed his company. _I realise as I write this Bill must have spoken to him._

The only break from my daily routine ritual was a change of tenants, which entailed cleaning the flat and getting new suitable tenants, this was my responsibility and a feat of precision management to achieve. I was home all day while Bill was at work, he needed to relax when he got home he didn't want the hassle of worrying about new tenants. It was a logistic nightmare for me to achieve the change of tenants as efficiently as I expected to. Planning between kids, feeds, sleeps, routine chores and husband sure was testing me, but I always achieved.

When Paul vacated we had many hopeful singles apply. Jacqui begged us to allow her to rent the studio flat, she was an attractive blonde English girl in her late twenties, drove a nice car and had a good job. Against advice Aileen had given us "Don't let to single girls, they bring their troubles home. "Jacqui convinced me she was the best tenant we could possibly have.

Jacqui moved in, she was a great source of amusement and entertainment for us. She was very lonely and spent a lot of time socialising with us. We often had her over for dinner, we became friends. She loved Bill and openly told him if ever he left me she would be waiting. I thought that a compliment to my husband, he seemed quite pleased with the idea too.

Jacqui was different to any girls I knew. She drank flagons of hock, a cheap dry white wine. To my shock horror she was taking the very new contraceptive pill. This pill was so new my doctor wouldn't allow me to take it.

"It's too new, it hasn't been proven over the long term, we don't know what side effects it may incur."

I couldn't believe a single girl had been given 'the pill' prescription, she must have used the same persuasive powers on a doctor as she had used on me to rent our flat.

"Why does she need the pill?" I thought "She isn't even married?"

I couldn't comprehend the change this much touted wonder pill would affect woman and indeed the world, even though Bill mournfully said at the time "This pill will change the world."

How right he was. It was the ticket to freedom of choice for women. The pill allowed women to enjoy sex without the fear of pregnancy. Until now the only sure birth control was abstinence.

Jaqui didn't date boys but she had a special man friend who spasmodically briefly visited in his late model Mercedes Benz, they rarely went out together. Jaqui lived for the times when this man visited, sometimes he didn't come when she was expecting him, she drank herself to oblivion on these occasions, the next day she was so remorseful and sought consolation, from us.

She eventually told us this guy a prominent well-known local personality was married. I couldn't believe such an attractive girl let herself be used as she did, it was a weird merry go round journey she led, I felt sorry for her. Bill was happy to collect her rent. I monitored the time he spent collecting the rent and made sure he always collected every cent, not that I didn't trust him. I didn't trust her. _Thinking about it now, hers was the only rent he collected!! Hmm!!_

With a third baby on the way mum and dad realised there would be no room for them in our house when they visited, at least once a year. They asked us to look for a suitable caravan they could buy. Bill suggested one from the company he had been apprenticed to, he knew they were of the highest quality.

A shiny new silver fifteen-foot aluminium caravan was purchased and installed in our spacious back yard. The double bed at the back of the van converted to a lounge creating more floor space during the day, the table setting at the front of the van converted to another double bed if required. This was very comfortable quarters for mum and dad during their stays with us.

We were welcome to use the van for holidays if we wanted, we did, we thought it a great opportunity for a cheap holiday. Our first trip was to Victor Harbour for a weekend. It was disastrous, Mark had only slept in a cot, he wouldn't sleep in a strange bed, he played up all night upsetting Le-Anne and keeping us all awake. We went home after only one night.

My pregnancy progressed, I had no idea how I would cope with three babies I was run off my feet with never a minute to spare with just two children. Mum and dad must have wondered as well, they generously offered to come and stay in our home and look after Mark and Le-Anne while we had a child free holiday. We readily accepted.

We decided to tow the caravan to Canberra in late January, I was six months pregnant. I settled mum and dad into the routine with the children I knew would work; we took off.

The first day of our holiday I felt lost, that night I was quite sad, even teary, I missed the kids so much. The second day I felt slightly better, by the time we got to Canberra I had forgotten all about them, I knew they were in good hands, and maybe mum would be able to control Mark better than me.

Travelling to Canberra we experienced exceptionally hot days, so hot the car over heated, we had to stop, luckily it was by Lake Curramine surrounded by shady trees, what a welcoming treat. I was feeling the heat and becoming quite stressed, we hadn't brought our bathers so we jumped into the lake fully clothed, we felt so daring and free, we enjoyed ourselves so much.

We parked the van on an oval under a shady tree a few miles from Canberra. Caravan Parks in those days were very basic the amenities blocks run down and seldom clean, we preferred to find a shady spot away from designated van parks. We drove into Canberra each day had a shower in the public showers did the touristy things as well as any shopping we needed and had a wonderful holiday renewing our love.

Each night we totally relaxed drinking Vodka and Orange even though it caused me to suffer acute heartburn, never mind I had never felt so good. Bill was also happy and in a carefree mood, we never drank alcohol at home but we were on holiday.

We made love regularly with no restrictions. I was already pregnant so we didn't have to worry about withdrawal, AND there were no kids to consider. Oh! What a wonderful holiday. We renewed our love to the utmost.

What a wonderful gift from mum and dad this holiday was, they could never know or appreciate how much it meant to us holidaying without the children.

I know mum and dad would never have partaken in such carefree intoxicated lovemaking with their beliefs (well certainly mum's belief) sex was strictly for making babies and alcohol definitely taboo. Mum and dad being total teetotalling wowsers would never have experienced the wonder of total relaxation and abandonment of inhibitions which alcohol can blissfully provide as this remarkable holiday did for us.

We returned home with stars in our eyes, very happy with ourselves. I was refreshed and ready for whatever the future held. Mum and dad had the place spick and span and neat as a pin, it was so lovely to be with Mark and Le-Anne again they seemed to have grown so much in the short time we were away; mum said they had been model children. Mark seemed better behaved.

"I can handle Mark alright when Eunice is not around." I heard mum telling friends.

Although it was a rude awakening to arrive home and the reality of responsibilities, life soon settled back to the normal daily routine.

Our wonderful, relaxed holiday seemed like a dream of the past. I grew tired easily and had to have a sleep every afternoon while the children had their sleep. Mark, though slowly responding to discipline was still a naughty two-year-old terror, I was in despair as to what I was doing wrong. My only reprieve was when he was asleep or when I let him do exactly as he wanted or when Bill occasionally looked after him. I was in despair knowing I couldn't let him rule the roost especially when our third child was born.

I tried to exercise lots of patience and spend quality one on one time with him. He was going through the terrible twos and I felt I was talking to a blank wall I was sure he didn't understand me, I often lost my patience which wasn't hard, I wasn't blessed with patience, I have my dad's 'impatience genes'. Bill had heaps of patience he let Mark do whatever he wanted. It was the mother's job to rare the children and be the disciplinarian, I accepted that and tried really hard to be the most perfect mother.

I tried desperately to have Mark out of nappies before number three arrived, three children in nappies was a daunting thought, as still there was no nappy service or disposables available. I persevered in potty training Mark, it didn't work I sat him on the pot at what I thought was appropriate times expecting him to do his jobs, but invariably as soon as I had his nappy back on that's when he made his deposits. I was in total despair.

Motherhood continued to be a huge shock to me. I had no idea it was such a demanding 24/7 job. I thought babies and children effortlessly fitted into the lifestyle of a family. I had no concept of the sleep deprivation and extra work the little dears evolved, let alone the thankless task of teaching them discipline and nurturing their personalities every second of their lives.

I really didn't know how I would cope when the third baby was born; luckily I never had time to ponder over it. I would cope as best I could when the time came. I wasn't a worry wart. I never worried about what might be. I had enough to cope with each day without adding more pressure of 'what ifs'. I believe it is far better to reserve worry until you know what it is you have to worry about; then deal with the problem.

Roger was expected to take over the farm; mum and dad would retire from the farm to Adelaide when Roger married. Dad often said to me "When I leave the farm and Roger to takes over, I am never going back, I don't want to see the mess it will be in."

"Roger will do OK. You wait and see." I repeatedly told him.

Roger was now engaged to Angie who wasn't allowed to marry until she was twenty one the age of consent; living together wasn't acceptable so they settled for a long courtship.

"You have to pick the good girls out of the cradle or some-one else will nab them." Roger informed us.

Angie worked in her parent's roadhouse at Penong, she was a capable girl, mum and dad thought she'd make an excellent farmers wife. They were right. She did.

I was right. Roger became a successful farmer.

Ford brought out a Falcon. Much to mum and dad's disgust Roger broke the Freeman family tradition and bought one, a Falcon from an opposition company, a brand-new orange/red one. Before he took delivery of it he ordered the very latest technology of lay back seats to be installed.

"If I have to wait to get married I am going to have some comfort till then." he said.

Angie was a popular girl, very capable and loved by all, especially mum and dad she was their ticket to retirement. She was a very fashionable young miss wearing the latest fashions... mini-skirts. She wore the shortest mini-skirts I ever saw, so short she had to be careful not to bend over, even a tiny way.

I was surprised mum and dad accepted Roger's potential wife wearing such revealing skirts. I would never have been allowed. Times were a changing.

Mum and dad were surely mellowing. I was surprised to find mum knew all the latest pop songs. I was never allowed to listen to Hit Parades on the wireless where pop songs were introduced to the public and continually played. Mum and dad considered pop songs were a bad influence for me, now mum could sing most of them. I couldn't believe her change of attitude. Lucky Roger, he had such a different upbringing to the strict regime I was subjected to.

A new English pop group mum apparently approved of emerged on the music scene. The Beatles! They were top of all hit parades, sensational and very, very popular. They were coming to Adelaide, such a coup for this quiet laid back city which was abuzz. Adelaidians had never felt so much excitement and anticipation awaiting 'The Beatles'.

The Beatles were treated as royalty, the organisation, security and pomp was full on for this visit, as was the massive crowds who flocked to see them. Being heavily pregnant with two toddlers prohibited me from joining the throngs of people who waited for hours to get a glimpse of this popular group.

As much I liked to keep up with all the latest fads, I had to be content with listening to the radio reports and watching the limited television coverage on our black and white TV. Just as well I didn't try and see them, at each of their appearances the crowds were moved to massive hysteria, many fans were hurt. I was content to stay safely at home with my young family. I must be maturing.

My third baby was due in May, seeding time on the farm. Mum and dad weren't able to leave the farm at this critical time to look after Mark and Le-Anne, Bill had to go to work and I knew he would not be confident in looking after the kids even if he wasn't working, he had never changed a nappy bathed or fed them, let alone done any cooking and cleaning, that was definitely the woman's duties.

Bill's cousin Phil Hirst and her husband Les offered to look after Mark and Le-Anne; they had four older school age children. I thought it was a wonderful gesture from them. I wrote out a detailed list of their routine. I knew they would have some reprieve if they adhered to it, besides I wanted the kids to keep in their regular routine for when I came home with the new baby.

The day arrived. I knew exactly what to expect, at the first twinge of labour I rang Bill, he came home from work; we delivered Mark and Leanne to Phil and Les. I was heavily into labour by the time Bill got me to Burnside Memorial Hospital at 4.30pm. The nurses recognised us from Le-Anne's birth just thirteen months prior, they were most interested in what we'd been up to the previous year, we were casually chatting away my pains were becoming more frequent. I was thinking I should probably be 'prepping' for the birth, when one of the nurses said "Well what are you here for?"

"I am here to have a baby, and if you don't hurry I might have it right here in the foyer."

"OH!"

They quickly ushered us into the labour ward. It was 4.50pm.

"I'll take your dinner order... just in case you get a chance to eat tonight." said a nurse, as I was getting into bed.

As the nurse was walking out I felt a strong bearing down sensation...

I called out to her

"I think the baby is coming."

WOOSH......

Bill disappeared amidst the flurry of nurses.

# Chapter 10

## Shane Antony Hoad

5.00pm 9th May 1967 Shaun Antony Hoad easily slithered unaided into this world weighing eight and a half pounds (3.855ks). Another perfect baby! I couldn't believe he was born so quickly and easily. The nurses took him away to clean up. I looked for Bill, he was there by my side only a few minutes before Shaun popped out, but I couldn't see him now.

I asked a nurse "My husband must be still here, see if you can find him before he leaves, his car is parked in the street just out the front."

She went out and looked. "No, there is no sign of him or the car."

I couldn't believe he had left so quickly, I later told him "that was quickest I have ever known you to move."

OK! My husband has gone home. My baby is born. My children are being cared for. I will enjoy my 'holiday' in hospital. "I am ready for my dinner; you can bring it in now." I told an astonished nurse.

"We must clean you up first and get you to your ward." she insisted.

I hadn't even passed the afterbirth. Once that was achieved and I was regally settled into the same private room I had for Le-Anne's birth the previous year the nurses cheekily joked

"This ward is reserved annually for you."

My dinner was brought which I thoroughly enjoyed. I was going to enjoy this stay in hospital, the best holiday possible for me, being waited on; such luxury.

I wanted to see my baby I wanted Bill there as well, this would have been a birth he could easily have shared with me; in fact it was only his hasty retreat that prevented him from involuntary doing so.

Finally I got to hold my baby, the nurses slightly relaxed the rules, they brought him to me while Bill was still visiting, normally a strict No-No! A lot of things happened during this stay in hospital that had been previous No-Nos! Guess I was a regular by now.

We had a dilemma. We wanted to name this baby Shane, Glenys and Kevin had just produced a brother for their two year old Paul six weeks before and called him Shane. I thought we couldn't appear to copy them, so we named our baby Shaun a name as near as possible to Shane, we even announced his birth in the Advertiser naming him Shaun Antony. I worried about this second choice name for him, I imagined as he grew older being called "Shauny Hoad, Shauny Toad, Shauny Toady." I couldn't bear the thought of imposing these possible taunts on my baby. We thought as the years passed the two children may have nothing much to do with each other, so decided to call him by our first choice name.

We registered our third child as Shane Antony Hoad. We have never regretted it.... though Shane now tells me he has never liked his name!

I so enjoyed this stay in hospital. I thought it would be the last rest I would have for a long time so I made the most of it, my only chance for a complete rest without children or husband whilst being waited on with such care and professionalism. I wanted to stay in hospital as long as possible; so, when through the window I saw doctor arriving I raced back to my ward jumped into bed and innocently waited for his visit. He asked how I was feeling.

"I'm still very tired Doc, could I stay here for a few more days?"

He looked expectantly at the Matron "How is the bed situation?"

"Okay."

I was able to wangle a stay of twelve gloriously relaxing days in my own private room being waited on with my every whim provided for including delicious gourmet meals and my new baby being taken care of. I knew it would be FULL ON when I went home so I was sure going to enjoy the luxury and make the most of it while it was on offer, especially as Phil and Les assured us they and their children were enjoying having Mark and Le-Anne living with them, I was so grateful to them, Mark and Le-Anne also seemed very happy.

Shane was a well behaved contented baby posing no problems in hospital even his circumcision didn't upset him, though it did me. I felt good, I had the right amount of milk and was doing my exercises and getting my figure back; I felt I could cope with my family when home again.

All too soon I was home, relaxed and well rested feeling confident in coping with three children under three and all in nappies. YUK!

Fortunately Shane continued as the perfect baby doing everything I expected of my first, he virtually slotted into the routine Le-Anne was growing out of, he was able to use the bassinet Mark and Le-Anne had used, when he grew too big for that he moved into the small fold up wooden cot Le-Anne used, Le-Anne moved into Mark's heavy iron cot and Mark had to move into a single bed though I knew he would be out of it more than in it.

The iron cot loaned to us by Dorothy was used by many children who all cut their teeth on it including ours. This style cot is also banned today. Declared unsafe? The painted finish containing lead is now declared poisonous. How-ever our children are still alive and healthy?

Most of Shane's night feeds were fed to him in our bed, this practice though supposedly a No-No took far less of my energy, fortunately Bill didn't complain he realised I needed sleep too. He always slept soundly through the nights and I made sure he wasn't disturbed; he constantly reminded me he needed his sleep to function professionally at work.

Mark often sneaked into our bed during the night I let him stay for a short while then took him back to his bed which he was happy to go to after a comforting cuddle. Le-Anne had joined the early morning bed cuddles, we allowed them to join us if they lay quiet so we could finish our sleep. These were special times... though rather cramped all in a double bed.

Le-Anne a happy contented baby still wasn't walking but she moved herself around very quickly on her bottom, she never crawled, why should she? She had learned to slide around on her bottom when very young and never tried crawling. Mark was very active and demanding, he raced around the house on his plastic ride-on tractor, I had to be diligent he didn't run into or over Le-Anne, especially her fingers. I was now 'babying' every minute of my life. I had no choice, by the time I tended to the children, did the daily washing and chores including writing to mum twice a week it was bedtime, I was so tired I had to grab every bit of rest and sleep I could because I had to get up to the children most nights. Shane needed to be fed every four hours.

Mark was teething and miserable, he often needed comforting during the night, he was more demanding during the night than the other two. I wondered why we ever grew teeth? They were a hassle and very painful for children when growing, then for the rest of their lives teeth needed special care attention and painful expensive treatments. "I'm so glad I had all mine out when I was a teenager."

I felt I was working by rote, and just surviving. Even though Shane was a good baby I couldn't believe how much extra a third child added to an ideal family of two children. Shane had to be a good baby he had no choice he was left to his own devises safely in his bassinet while I saw to Mark and Le-Anne who were always mobile and could come to harm if they weren't closely watched.

I maintain one child is a sin, not only for the child's sake, but also the parents.

Two children are ideal.

Three children is ridiculous, if you are going to have three children you should go again... for a fourth. Four children are okay; even numbers are a better combination.

I chickened out! I couldn't possibly have managed a fourth child. Don't do as I do. Do as I say.

I didn't wait until Shane was three months old to wean and get him onto solids I did it when he was six weeks old out of sheer desperation for survival. Shane prospered very well without my milk which was drying up anyway. I am convinced breast milk isn't the be-all and end-all for babies. It's definitely a mother's choice, a choice new mothers in that era didn't get, like circumcision we never had a choice about circumcision, though I have never had any regrets having our boys circumcised... after they healed.

At my six week post-natal check-up doctor found I had a cyst just inside my vagina, he showed me, I was aghast at the site of this grape like growth growing on me. It had to come off, an operation. Immediately! Back to hospital again, oh dear I wanted to take Shane with me, I couldn't. Just as well I had weaned him, but... three children to farm out? I couldn't expect Phil and Les to look after three children. The seeding was in full swing on the farm, no chance of support from mum and dad. I told Bill he would have to take a few days off work and look after Mark. Phil was happy to have Le-Anne and Shane I knew they would be no trouble.

Once again I was admitted to hospital, even though for only two days. I had the operation; the cyst was removed. Soon after I came out of recovery my lower torso felt unusually wet and sticky. I lifted the sheets to my horror everything including me was liberally covered in blood. I buzzed the nurses. Staff flew into action. Doctor soon arrived. There was much prodding and poking the wound, they couldn't stop the bleeding. I was so hungry I hadn't eaten since the night before. I was drifting in and out of consciousness. They wouldn't let me have anything to eat not even a sip of water.

"Why?"

"You may have to go back to surgery."

I felt faint, doctor was worried about me. I told him I just needed something to eat and I'd feel better.

After much ado they decided they had stopped the bleeding. I was feeling so weak and washed out and hungry, I begged for a sandwich. Finally doctor agreed it would be safe for me to have a cheese sandwich. I couldn't wait I had never felt so ill or weak.

The freshly made cheese sandwich and cup of tea arrived. It was the best food I had ever eaten. My recovery to normality was instant. I sat up in bed and enjoyed a cigarette.

"There! I knew all that was wrong with me was lack of food." I told the doctor and nurses.

Yes! Smoking was accepted then, we not only smoked through pregnancy but also in our beds in hospital and home.

I didn't linger in hospital on this visit any longer than necessary, I knew my babies needed me, or more importantly their carers needed relief, especially Bill even though he spent most of the time with Mark at his cousin Rita's.

Two weeks later I had the all clear from doctor. I was regaining my strength and stamina, not only from the operation but from not breast feeding. I knew now I definitely could not cope with raising any more children. I discussed this with doctor.

"I love being pregnant, I could easily have a baby every year if I could give them away for some-one else to raise."

"Funny" he replied "so many women can't have children and you find it so easy."

"Yes doc! Therein is another problem. I don't want to have any more children. I know you don't approve of 'the pill' but if I get pregnant again, you will have to perform an abortion. I will plead insanity, and I won't be joking."

Abortions were strictly illegal and could only be performed on insane women who were unable or incapable of raising children.

I can remember my staid Doctor actually faltering when I declared I would go insane if I became pregnant again. Good. I had got through to him.

"Well I suppose you have your family so if 'the pill' which hasn't been fully tested does cause infertility problems it won't be so devastating for you."

Doctor and his new wife were expecting their first child, I had watched his bedside manner mellow since he became engaged and married especially now they had a baby on the way.

"Three children are enough to raise and financially support." he mused.

I hadn't thought of the costs of raising children I was only concerned about coping with each day.

Doctor though reluctantly, wrote me a prescription for the pill and warned me not to have sex until I had been taking it for a whole month, enough time for it to take effect. During that first month I felt awful. I felt nauseous, irritable and stressed. I wasn't so sure about this new contraception pill, it made me feel awful. Was it worth it?

One Saturday afternoon I was out the front of our house, doctor drove by, he stopped the car and asked me how I was getting on with the pill. I told him it was causing problems, he could obviously see I was in a distressed state. I was, but the weirdest feeling of all for me was talking to a man through his car window in the middle of our street about my sex life. It didn't seem popper even though it was my doctor. He seemed concerned for my welfare.

"Stop taking the pill. Come and see me Monday....OH...and NO SEX till then!"

I had got through to him, he was now as worried as me about getting pregnant again. He prescribed a different pill which suited me better, I didn't feel ill. I took it for three years without mishap or side effects.

After three years doctor suggested I give 'the pill' a rest and have the new Dalcon Shield inserted. This was a beetle like gadget permanently inserted in the reproductive organs somewhere. This gadget suited me, I never had any repercussions from it though many women did; it caused pregnancies in the Fallopian Tube which resulted in women becoming quite ill and sometimes dying.

I was feeling almost my old self again. I was managing to get through each day without too much drama so long as I stuck to my daily routine. I was too busy to overeat these days; in fact I was too busy to eat at all at times and this suited me just fine. I was happy I had lost a stone with each baby I was now eight and a half stone. I felt good... BUT...I must mind my

Le-Anne 1.6, Shane 6months, Mark 3

P's and Q's. I must try and be like Bill's mum. I don't want to upset him as it seems I too often did I was just grateful he didn't attack me in front of the children.

My life was babies... babies... and more babies, along with endless squabbles and shits from three kids in nappies, all the cloth nappies had to scraped, soaked and washed...YUKKK.

My salvation was when the kids were happy playing outside; our yard was safe with plenty of space and outdoor toys. I encouraged them to play outdoors while I worked to my strict routine; mornings I did the washing, cleaned the house and cooked the kid's lunch. I never had eating problems with them they ate anything and everything.

Every day I dry broiled up a saucepan of fresh vegetables adding different soft meat like fish, brains, shredded chicken beef or pork, then mashed them all together, it looked awful, but smelt good and tasted good. They sat happily together on the log swing Poppa had given them as I spoon fed them each in turn with the same spoon from the saucepan it had been cooked in, it was like feeding baby birds, their mouths opened up as quick as I could do the rounds. Each day I thought I had made enough for the morrow, but every skerrick was always eaten.

Gerry loved to bring her son a fussy eater, we sat him on the swing with our three and he followed them. Gerry couldn't believe he ate his share along with our kids. The best part about feeding the children lunch outside on the swing was my clean house stayed clean no food mess splashed around, only one saucepan and spoon to wash and I knew they had eaten a healthy meal.

The children were all tired after lunch and slept for two hours. This was my salvation! My time! This routine was the only thing that kept me sane. I loved the Midday Show with Mike Walsh and watched it... or listened to it every day as I sewed.

I'm sure Mike enlightened many a house bound housewife on taboo subjects normally never spoken about, well subjects certainly never spoken to me. I couldn't get enough information of these traditionally closed topics. I was learning about a different world to the one I was reared in. I lived a fantasy hour and a half with Mike until the children woke, I was relaxed and ready to cope with the afternoons until Bill got home and entertained the kids while I prepared dinner, the children ate whatever we ate or a reliable standby was bread butter and vegemite or peanut paste.

The bathroom was near the kitchen so I could keep an eye on them while they played together happily in the big bath then they were happy to go to bed at 7.30pm sleeping soundly for ten to twelve hours. This strict routine allowed me time to do other things, and there were plenty of 'other 'jobs to be done, especially concerning the flats, and finding time to write home to mum and dad twice a week.

The flats luckily were running smoothly, the tenants were nice folks and long term, a huge bonus for me. Change of tenants meant a total spring clean, advertising, interviewing and letting all totally my responsibility, a precise organisational feat because I endeavoured to have new tenants move in the day after a flat was vacated. I was glad of no change of tenants during this time. I couldn't possibly have maintained my high set of standards.

The pill gave me a new look at life. I loved not only the freedom of making love with the fear of pregnancy alleviated, but also the regularity the pill provided for my menstrual cycle. I remember our excited anticipation the first time we made love after Shane was born. The regulatory time lapse had passed, tonight was the night. We knew Jacqui was driving to a much anticipated tryst this night she was so excited, we knew she would be away and not interrupt us, we heard her leave, finally the children were in bed asleep; off we went to bed.

It was so good to be making safe love without a huge belly between us. I was feeling almost my old self again. Neither of us could get to sleep after our love making, for some reason we both feared for Jacqui's safety, we knew she became non compos mentis from substances she indulged in when happy; and also when sad.

Well after midnight we heard her car coming down the street. Thank goodness she has arrived home safely and hasn't had an accident; we thought...

BANG..... CRUNCH.....CRASH.... as she drove into the drive she hit the solid brick fence post Bill had recently built, sending bricks flying everywhere and badly damaging her car. We heaved a sigh of relief, at least she was home safely and of course full of apologies next morning though she didn't remember hitting the post; we told her "we did."

Bill dutifully rebuilt the fence post. I'm not so sure he would have been so accepting of this extra work if I had knocked it over.

There was never a dull moment for us with our tenants living next door, especially Jacqui. We could always count on some sort of unusual, interesting happenings to keep us amused. Jacqui spent some evenings with us watching television. I was always busy with the children and usually fell asleep before she went home. I wasn't jealous of her I felt very smug and secure that Bill was my mine, he was MY husband. I know she envied me she often told me so. I made sure she wasn't left alone with Bill for any length of time. I also made sure I was ready willing and able to make love whenever Bill wished so he wouldn't need consolation from her.

I had a problem. I had been wearing maternity clothes pretty much continually for nearly four years and now, three stone lighter, I had nothing that would fit. All my clothes were way too big and besides the fashions had changed dramatically during those four years, the main difference was the length of the dresses.

I had to make myself some new fashionable outfits, I didn't need many clothes we seldom went out it was just too much hassle, it was easier to stay home; all the same I desperately needed some outfits that fitted.

The mini skirt era was luckily slowly fading out. I hadn't embraced this fashion I was too conscious of showing my knickers as I tended to my children, the new ankle length skirts were more practical for me. I was sure the clothing industry was the instigator of the longer skirt era because so much more fabric was needed and a whole new wardrobe was necessary because you couldn't convert a mini to a long skirt like you could recycle a long skirt to a mini which most people had done. Though this new 'long' look hadn't yet taken off I would be a trend setter.

I made a linen sky blue pinafore style outfit fitted at the waist, the skirt falling in a gentle flair to my ankles and a white nylon blouson blouse with long fully puffed sleeves fitted at the wrist in cuffs, the outfit definitely emphasised my new slim figure and white high heeled shoes and handbag completed the look. I felt good, this was the most confident I had ever felt. It's amasing how a woman blossoms after giving birth.

Off to town we went, Penny looked after the children. I will never forget that day, walking proudly around Myer with my head held high, Bill proudly by my side in my new fashion outfit I stood out like a sore toe (how I relished it) my ankle length outfit amongst all the odd shaped legs showing beneath the short old fashioned mini-skirts.

I wondered how Bill would handle the continual stares and shocked look on the faces of passer's by as their eyes followed us, luckily he seemed to be enjoying the attention and the length of my nonrevealing skirt.

This day, I'm sure changed my life. I had proved to myself I had a newfound confidence and could hold my head high in public. I must be sure I don't get too confident and upset Bill. I must remain subservient. Bill is the important one in our marriage.

I worked hard to make time for sewing, I became a time management freak, probably to the detriment of the kids and certainly to Bill who never seemed to be in a hurry or get impatient, so I sewed during the day while he was at work. I not only made all my clothes but all the children's clothes as well.

Buying good serviceable fabrics for the children was expensive and inconvenient and I dreaded shopping. I couldn't possibly take the children shopping it was just too much of a hassle and I felt it was a huge waste of time anyway.

I discovered the value of recycling, I started making the kid's clothes out of good quality fabrics from my outdated dresses and Bills old clothes especially his trousers. Men's trousers were made of washable strong worsted wool fabric ideal for boys trousers, the fashion for men in those days were wide legged trousers providing heaps of good material even without the threadbare knee areas.

It soon became known I made clothes out of discarded clothes and was given heaps of unwanted clothes from friends and acquaintances. I loved having such a wide choice of good fabrics that never cost a cent and without having to spend precious time shopping. I enjoyed making the kids 'designer clothes', they were always well dressed. I also knitted all their woolies. I never bought any clothes. Everything they are wearing in the pics I made, yes the ties too.

May 10th1968. Mark 3, Shane 1, Le-Anne 2

Grocery shopping was still the biggest hassle especially with the children in tow, I was grateful when a wonderful new product was introduced in this decade. Plastic bags! How amazing, they replaced paper bags which inevitably split sending groceries everywhere. This amazing plastic product was strong enough to support an extraordinary amount of groceries and weight without splitting and didn't disintegrate when wet, it was a revolution. The bags came in all sizes the most popular for me was shopping bags, how great it was when the grocer used plastic instead of brown paper bags ensuring the shopping was secured. A bonus was using these plastic bags as rubbish bin liners, far more effective than the paper ones.

Plastic bags became so popular and over supplied causing serious environmental problems. Bangladesh imposed a strict ban on plastic bags in 2002 after two thirds of the country flooded between 1988 and 1998, caused by littered plastic bags blocking waterways and sewerage systems. Many countries have now banned or restricted plastic bags, though shamefully to date only some Australia states have imposed restrictions.

My pride wouldn't allow me to enter an Opportunity Shop, luckily I didn't need to I had plenty of old clothes given to me, it would have been so humiliating for me to enter a secondhand shop even though there was one at the end of our street. One day I had some clothes the children had grown out of; they were too good to throw out. I loaded the kids in the pram and walked to the shops, we loved a walk though it took precious time; this day I'd drop clothes at the Op shop next door to the shoe shop where I intended to buy Mark a new pair of slippers.

I looked around to make sure no-one I knew was watching me enter the Op shop. To my utter surprise there in this shop was the exact pair of as new slippers in Marks size that I intended to buy in the shoe shop next door, and 90% cheaper. They were perfect and I'm sure had never been worn. I decided to buy them.

I couldn't believe how lucky I was to have spotted them before I bought brand new identical ones. I though it quite bazaar to give away unwanted clothes and buy other people's cast offs while there.

That day I learned not to be so snobbish about entering Op shops and buying secondhand goods.

# Chapter 11

## Building our Future

Bill was planning a future so he could retire by the time he turned thirty. He was planning to knock down the old home we lived in and extend our existing flats next door by an overpass to a new block of two storey flats where the old home stood. He spent many hours planning and drawing the plans for one block of eight units over our two blocks, it was a good practical and workable project, so we thought. I thought he was so clever to have such foresight, eight flats would give us a good living, his wish would come true; he could retire. Affordability for this project wasn't an issue...dad would probably come to the party if he could see it as a viable proposition. It was a good idea, no doubt about that... BUT Burnside Council didn't agree.

"The area is not zoned for two storey block of flats."

"You can't convert two properties into one they have to be independent of each other."

Why I don't know, but I know the council made it so difficult we gave up the idea and thought we'd better lay low because we hadn't sought approval for turning our home into flats, we didn't realise we had to and maybe just as well because I doubt Burnside council with its rigid set of standards would have approved.

Welcome to our first dealings with Local Government! Councils!

Well if we weren't going to pull down the old home we now lived in there was no excuse for us to have to make do with the scant antiquated facilities that was there, we could make our home more comfortable, a more functional kitchen, some built-in cupboards, a hot water service to replace the copper in the laundry and the dangerous gas heater over the bath... I thought.

The property market was still suppressed, Bill decided it was a good time to buy another property; a new home for us to live in then we could let the one we were in providing another income. I was rather wary. I was coasting along nicely coping with my lot, this house was totally suitable for raising children in; the large enclosed landscaped yard gave the kids a safe place to play. The shops and doctor was just a short walk to the end of the street. The neighbours were all elderly and very friendly. Our babysitter lived opposite, I didn't really want to move just yet, I felt I was just getting myself into a comfortable routine which I could manage and enjoy.

Shane was just one month old. Bill talked to Bernie James who recommended we buy a brand new home he had for sale in a new subdivision at Hectorville, the builder had gone broke the Mortgagee was selling it. The home had been passed in at auction and no wonder it looked so forlorn set on a messy construction site with absolutely no landscaping. Bernie said it would be ideal for us and assured us it was a good buy at cost price $5000.

Bill clever with properties and investments had it all worked out, we had two freehold properties though very little cash, we were paying mum and dad a nominal sum each month, we could afford to buy another home owning two freehold properties.

Bill had it all worked out.

"We could buy this home with a first home bank loan of $3500 (maximum allowed then) as a first mortgage taken over twenty five years. Interest on first home loans is the cheapest interest on offer, making the payments affordable."

We hadn't needed a bank loan because dad had financed us so we wouldn't have to go into debt. Dad didn't believe in borrowing money that's why he paid for our house in cash; even so Bill now mourned the fact we hadn't taken advantage of the first home buyer's low interest loan and insisted we should apply.

Bill's motto was money makes money and the cheapest money to borrow was a first home loan from a major bank. Dad giving us our first home... and second... disqualified us from obtaining a first homeowners bank loan because we were homeowners.

Bill's argument was we didn't own a home, only investment properties, he mulled over these thoughts then went to the bank insisting we didn't have a 'home' we were temporarily living in an investment property not at all suitable for a young family, we needed a home, he stipulated to the Bank Manager we should be eligible for this loan.

He convinced me we'd be foolish not to take advantage of a chance to buy another property, he explained rent we received from the home we were currently living in would practically cover the mortgage payment, we wouldn't be out of pocket in taking out the bank loan "and" he said to me "you can have a nice new home to live in."

He could always talk me around to his way of thinking and I could certainly see his reasoning. He was so clever. Wonder of wonders! The powers that be agreed and accepted our application for a bank home loan.

How wonderful. Bill is a genius to work all this out. But I wondered..."The house costs $5000 the mortgage will be $3500. What about the $1500 shortfall?"

"I thought you could ask your parents if they could spare another $1500!" Bill confidently said. I was flabbergasted. "I can't ask them for more money."

I knew how my parents thought. They had bought us a lovely home to save us going into debt which we gave up as a home. I knew they wouldn't be impressed if I asked them for money to buy another home.

Bill persisted and persuaded me until I finally agreed to ask. This request I knew needed delicate handling.

In one of my regular twice weekly letters I subtly mentioned Bill's scheme, then finally in following letters actually asked for $1500. I could feel the vibes, they were not real keen. I promised to pay them back more each month than the nominal amount we had been paying.

A cheque of $1500 arrived.

We signed the contract for 4 Henry St Hectorville with the Bernie James. Then I had second thoughts... I worried about living in this brand new home, I knew it was a bargain buy, but I hadn't considered how suitable or unsuitable it would be for our young family.

It was an average sized three bedroom one bathroom rather unique home with lots more window and double glass doors than the average home, but it had a very small kitchen with scant cupboards not even enough space to fit a small refrigerator in the kitchen, there were no wardrobes or built in cupboards not even a shelf in the bathroom, even my old house had a serviceable shaving cabinet in the bathroom. I voiced my concerns.

Bill promised to build cupboards and knock a wall out so a fridge would fit in the kitchen. Bernie said he would buy a shaving cabinet. I hadn't thought about the practicality of living in this inadequate basic home with three young children. When faced with the reality I worried!

Back at Kensington Park there was much flurry and ado about getting this home ready for tenants. Cupboards had to be built, the wardrobe had to be finished, all the half-finished chores I had longed to be completed to make it comfortable living for us had to be completed ASAP for tenants. I would have loved being able to enjoy these completed projects???

Bill worked tirelessly until it was ready for the tenants to move in. I couldn't imagine how I would be able to execute the move to our new home as well as cleaning out our old home for tenants. I was battling to survive each day with the normal chores associated with three babies and a husband.

1st July 1967. 4 Henry St Hectorville was officially ours. Shane was barely seven weeks old, Leanne still not walking unaided, Mark a toddler and into everything. I didn't know how I would cope. Each day while Bill was at work I packed a few things, when he got home with the car I took them to Hectorville and proceeded to set up our new home. Finally the day arrived when we made the final move, it wasn't such a big issue because I had moved bit by bit all the possessions I could fit in the car. I had advertised 'For Rent' the week before and had a lovely young family ready to move into our old home. They moved in the same day we moved into our new home.

I hated this new home even more as we lived in it. "Why didn't I think more practically before I agreed to purchase it?" I can only think my brain was addled with confinements and motherly instincts of survival. The lack of facilities, cupboards, curtains or floor coverings was the least of my worries. The main problem was the yard resembled a bomb site, directly outside the front and back doors was dirt, and worse still; no front fences in the street.

It was winter, the rainy season in Adelaide which transformed the whole yard into an uneven clay pan. It was impossible to get to and from the car without our feet getting clogged inches thick with muddy clay. It was out of the question for the children to ever play outside, even when it wasn't raining, the yard was too dangerous for the children to venture into, building debris and rubbish plus no fences prevented them doing so safely.

The yard needed heaps of filling to level the block. Bill could see I was pulling my hair out so organised many truckloads of filling soil to cover the debris, now the yard resembled a road work site, but at least it was level-ish.

I also hated the address. I kept thinking "We are the 'oads of 'enry St 'ectorville."

I shuddered at the thought. The only good thing about this home, it was next door to a primary school the children could walk to school in five minutes without crossing a busy road; though this was little consolation right now, the kids seemed light years away from attending school.

Hectorville was a new suburb away from the city with no shops or services nearby nor a single tree in site. The many vacant unkempt blocks degraded the subdivision and were used as rubbish dumps by the few people living there.

I felt isolated, I had to do what I needed in the car after Bill got home from work or on weekends. I knew he didn't like to be inconvenienced by doing errands for me while he was going to or from work, or during work hours, but I was quite taken aback when he refused to post a letter as he was driving past the letterbox on his way to work. I had at least two letters a week to post to my parents.

"No you can post it."

"You mean to say, you are driving right by a letter box and when you get home I have to drive back to that letter box to post my letter?" I dared ask him.

"Yes!" he said with finality.

I never asked him to post any letters again. In fact I never asked him to do any chores for me he was far too busy to be worried about mundane things like letters or other things I needed help with; consequently twice a week I made the long trek to the letter box on foot or I would have received a worried call from mum. I so missed the letter box out the front of our flats.

There was another huge problem, no fences at all were in this subdivision, not even the habited homes had fences. An Italian family whose three young boys freely roamed the area including our yard played with our kid's toys at their whim, especially the bikes and ride-on toys that were too large and dirty to store inside, we had no garage or secure storage for them. These three kids didn't have many toys so naturally they enjoyed playing with ours. When we went out we neatly left the toys by our back door, invariably when we returned these toys were scattered all over the neighbourhood. I was beside myself, I talked to their mother but she didn't think it was a problem. I noticed her home was spotlessly clean, their yard was beautifully landscaped with a cement drive and spacious lawns. The kids weren't allowed inside the house, the family lived mostly in their shed where they did all the food preparations and ate their meals.

Their youngest, the two year old son was the biggest pest, he spent most of his time with his snotty nose pushed up against our floor to ceiling windows. We'd wake in the morning to be greeted by him peering at us through the windows, he continued this invasion throughout the day. We had to be sure to close all the room doors even the toilet to prevent him watching our every move as we went about our daily chores.

One of the few things I liked about this home was the expanse of windows even though I shuddered at the thought of covering so many windows. I planned to slowly replace the strung up sheets with curtains as I found time to make them.

We decided to have good quality Holland blinds, an expensive exercise but for privacy it was absolutely necessary. First priority for me was privacy.

We couldn't afford floor coverings, we made do with the rough floorboards, it was probably a good thing not to have new floor coverings with the dirt and mud being continually traipsed in from our disgusting yard and certainly preferable while Bill was building cupboards and knocking out walls to make room for the refrigerator.

The open living area was so large our small portable kerosene heater hardly provided adequate heat. It was a cold home in winter.

In the summer this house was unbearably hot, the walls were the modern lower height, nine feet instead of twelve feet as was the older homes, the ones I'd always lived in. The dark grey tiled roof and the sun shining through the windows all added to making this home unbearably hot.

I missed the cosy rooms our kerosene heater provided at Kensington Park.

I missed the high ceilings and thick walls at Kensington Park.

I missed the clean secure safe lawned yard at Kensington Park.

I missed the elderly neighbours without children at Kensington Park.

I missed the convenience of the shops and services near our Kensington Park property.

I missed our spacious fenced landscaped yard.

I missed the letter box out the front.

I missed having our doctor live in the same street.

I missed having our babysitter living opposite.

I missed the big old shady trees which lined the streets of older suburbs.

Why didn't I stop and think?

' _Enry St 'Hectorville_. _Mark & a neighbour playing._

Our Simca Vedette and my parents van in the yard

I now realised Hectorville was predominantly a community of Italians. I later learned it was nick named 'Little Italy'. I had never had any communications with foreigners, especially Italians. I was disgusted to realise I was ignorant to the fact that this new subdivision was favoured by Italians. Bernie James must have known and didn't inform us.

There was one other Australian couple in the area, a young newlywed couple in the home right opposite, though we didn't often socialise we appreciated having each other as neighbouring allies.

I felt alone and isolated at home all day while Bill was at work, he was oblivious to my distress, he had no notion of what my day consisted of and now I had the added problem of not being able to let the children play outside.

I was going MAD. I was feeling depressed. I knew I shouldn't be depressed but I couldn't help my feelings. I sometimes dreamed of having no responsibilities, no husband and dare I say it, no children.

I felt bogged down. I dare not complain to Bill he was working so hard to provide us with a future; though many times especially after he had hit and threatened me I dreamed of leaving him, but it wasn't an option. Where would I go? There was absolutely no support for wives who left home it would have been the wives total responsibility to look after her children if she dared to leave her husband, besides my pride wouldn't allow me to leave specially to go home to mum and dad.

"Pride goeth before a fall."

Poppa Gourlay was my saving grace during these days, he visited every Wednesday and stayed for tea, we, especially the kids looked forward to his visits bringing little treats usually lollies and useless trinkets out of breakfast cereal packets, he relished in the kid's pleasure as they excitedly examined his gifts; then he took them for a drive usually to see cousin Reta who they called aunty who loved and spoiled them. It was a wonderful reprieve for me for a couple of hours.

Poppa obviously saw how difficult it was managing under such trying and difficult living conditions especially with Bill at work all day during the week and most of the weekends spent in the shed at his workshop at Kensington Park building cupboards and wardrobes for 'enry St. 'ectorville. Saturday mornings was the only chance I had to shop so I'd leave early and be as quick as possible to get back home so Bill could get to work in his shed at Kensington Park. I hated living in our new home at 'enry St 'ectorville.

We always went to Poppa's on Sunday afternoons and stayed for tea. I just loved these afternoons; I didn't have to get the evening meal. Poppa often apologised for serving the same food each week, cold corned beef and salad from the delicatessen and ice cream, jelly and tin fruit. I loved it so did the kids.

"I wouldn't care if you served bread and vegemite so long as I don't have to get it." I told Poppa after his usual apology each week. The kids knew there was no ice cream unless they ate all their meat and salad, no worries about that, they ate everything put in front of them and then more if they could nick it.

Poppa allowed me to bath them at his place which they enjoyed because Poppa's bath was a huge old fashioned one, big enough for them all to fit comfortable in together. Poppa never complained about water being splashed everywhere amid squeals of delight as they splashed each other. By the time we got home the kids bathed in their pyjamas were relaxed and ready to fall into bed. they were sound asleep in no time at all. Poppa's bathroom was left saturated which he never complained about.

When I needed the car I had no choice but to drive Bill to work and pick him up after, this was such an inconvenience and time waster for me, but the flats still had to be managed, lawns and maintenance upheld and the rents collected which was my job. On days I had the car as well as tending the flats I also managed to play the occasional game of tennis with June's group.

We played tennis on church courts on Beulah Road at Beulah Park, one day it rained June suggested we have a game of squash instead.

"Norwood courts are just down the road."

"OK! How do you play it? I have never played squash."

"Don't worry. It's easy. I'll show you." she assured me.

I'll never forget my first game of squash. June had been playing for many years and was quite good. Once I got used to the different size and shaped racquet and the small bouncy rubber ball I enjoyed hitting the ball as hard as I possibly could. I relished in the fact as hard as I hit the ball it was always contained within the courts, it couldn't be hit to oblivion over the backstops... but after only a few minutes of playing I was absolutely spent, not only physically but I had asthma like symptoms, it scared me a little and I had to stop. I greatly admired June her stamina she wasn't a bit puffed. I never went to squash again with June in lieu of playing tennis if it looked like raining I gave tennis a miss that day.

Though Bill didn't think so; I desperately needed a car. One day as I was playing tennis I called out loudly to all at the tennis courts "Does anyone know of a cheap car for sale?"

From the far end of the court June replied "I do. I have one, and I'll sell it for $10."

"Does it go?" I asked.

"Yes, if you push it."

This car was a small lettuce green Hillman Husky van, a two door, four seater; the two back seats lay down to create a large open space in the back with a hinged door at the rear. It looked in quite good nick, but it needed a push to start, once the motor had kicked in it drove well. Bill was hesitant he didn't want to put his wife and kids in a car that was maybe unsafe.

I desperately needed a car. I coaxed him into having a look. He talked to June's husband who said the only thing wrong with it was the starter motor. To my great relief Bill agreed to buy it. saying "We'll only register it for six months we may have to dump it if it proves to be no good."

It proved to be a God send to me. I loved my new little van. I had a bit of independence again. I learned to push start it alone, while sitting in the driving seat I expertly maneuvered the clutch with one foot while pushing the car along with the other either forward or reverse. I made sure I always parked on a slope ensuring an easy short run to get it started. I felt a little self-conscious of the many folks that stared at me starting my van in this manner, to say nothing of the tribe of kids frolicking around in the back of it. Who cares? I was mobile and independent.

I worried the kids may open the large door at the back of the van as we were travelling, so Bill riveted a barrel bolt on the outside of the door, I could now bolt them in and know they were securely contained in the rear. I drove this van by push starting for many weeks before Bill decided it was probably worth getting a new starter motor and registering annually.

I had a modicum of independence, how wonderful. I felt confident I could maintain our properties more efficiently without having to rely on sharing a car with Bill. I felt FREE..............Oops...

I must watch my step, another bashing, sharp bashes across my arms which were protecting my upper body.

"Why don't I ever learn?" I chastised myself.

I was pleased the children never witnessed these sudden attacks on me, I would have been mortified if they realised their mother was such a bad mother to need bashings. Bill never held a grudge, even after the bashings he was kind and loving to me.

These outbursts always came when I least expected them. I was too ashamed of myself to tell anyone, I didn't want people to know of my inefficiencies. I heard Bill jokingly tell some-one one day "Never hit your wife to cause bruises, you don't want to leave any evidence."

I was relieved to hear that because I believed he wouldn't hit me any harder than usual.

Mum and dad were due to come to Adelaide for a holiday. We put their caravan under the carport so they could walk on a cement path into the house. I was anxious as to what they would think of our new home. As I suspected they were not impressed. Mum's only comment

"It's in the out back!"

Mum thought anything beyond Toorak Gardens or Kensington was too far from the city.

In my limited spare time I kept myself sane by achievements, making curtains, making our new home as comfortable as I could and creating clothes for the kids and me.

Life was tough for me I existed as best I could. Mark was so demanding and Le-Anne was running everywhere and needed to be watched for her own safety especially when playing with Mark. I hardly knew Shane was there, in fact I think he was virtually left to himself.

I loved my children but I'm afraid I was a cranky mother, I hated myself for being so crabby, but try as I might, I couldn't be the serene mother I would love to have been. I envied mothers who didn't worry about their surroundings, those who just lived for and enjoyed their children without a care in the world. I would have loved to not have the worry of tenants, flats, housework or meals or a husband. I occasionally even envied couples who didn't have a husband or children.

"Imagine having time to myself."

It seemed like I coasted along in a dream... or nightmare at times. The uneven clay pit of a yard with no fences or trees added to my continual nightmare plus the intrusion of the neighbour's kids drove me to distraction, but I was so busy each day I never really had time for sorrowful reflections or regrets; I just had to get on with it. At least now I didn't have to rely on when Bill could spare the car. He was happy being able to work unrestricted in the shed at the flats where he spent all his spare time.

One day Poppa put a proposition to us. "How would you like to put the caravan in my backyard, you could live in it and use Bill's old sleep out and share my kitchen bathroom and laundry?" He could obviously see how unsatisfactory our living conditions were.

What a generous offer. I was ecstatic. Poppa had a secure safe established lawned yard the kids could roam and play safely in, his neighbours were all elderly with no children at home and Poppa would enjoy entertaining the kids.

I liked the idea. Bill also liked the idea because we could let 'enry St. 'ectorville. Another income while living cheaply with Poppa!

Once again work began in earnest at our Hectorville home. All the jobs I had been hanging out for Bill to finish were miraculously completed in record time. He got a grader in to level the dumped truckloads of filling on the block; I couldn't believe how quickly and efficiently the block was made neat and level with appropriate machinery.

Bill hired a sander and sanded all the floorboards, then varnished them. Insulation (fiberglass wool) was blown into the ceiling and wall cavities making a huge difference maintaining even temperatures summer and winter.

I wondered if I could coerce Bill into getting our properties finished for me to enjoy before tenants benefited from his capable professional handy work. He was very talented and able to put his hand to any job, but was limited by time. I was so proud of what he made and achieved be though he needed motivation by an extra income.

There was a choice of tenants for our new home. I chose a mature married couple with no children; he was an engineer sent from Sydney to supervise the building of the Kangaroo Creek dam in the Adelaide Hills. This huge project would take at least a year, this couple would be ideal.

We moved out, they moved in, they didn't mind the unkempt untidy yard devoid of landscaping, we were happy. I was happy the children would be able to play freely outside again at Poppa's. Bill was happy we had another income. I was happy I had my own car.

Moving house was made so much easier with my own transport, it was a lifesaver during house moves because it held so much, with the back seats laid down it was amasing how much stuff I could pack into one load making this move a breeze.

Living in the caravan in Poppa's backyard certainly wasn't the ideal living conditions for us, way below the standard of living I had been used to, but I was so grateful to Poppa for his generosity.

It was such a relief for me to be able to let the kids play safely outside. I was so busy feeding and caring for the children and surviving each day I didn't give a thought to our living standards or about what mum and dad would think after having given us a lovely home to live in, and a second, and contributed to our third home.

It was such a relief for me not to have any responsibility in maintaining Poppa's home. I cleaned the areas we used and cooked the meals which I think Poppa was grateful for.

Although our presence there must have been a huge intrusion on Poppa's privacy he seemed to enjoy our company and never complained. I adapted to the situation and made the most of it, with no responsibilities it was almost like a holiday. I treated it as a holiday or I would have been so embarrassed to be living under these conditions. I was able to focus more on enjoying our three babies.

Bill was content, his dream of enough unearned income so he could retire at thirty five years old was becoming a reality, we now had five rental incomes, three flats at Kensington Park the old house next door to the flats and now our new home at Hectorville.

Bill still worked at Angorichina during the week and at his workshop at the rear of the flats most weekends. He of course still expected me to look after rental properties which was a chore collecting the rents each week, luckily during this period we didn't have many tenants leave, they preferred a long lease and I was happy to give them as long a lease as they wanted, the longer the better and I encouraged them to stay by keeping the rentals lower than normal which proved beneficial not only because of the length of their tenancy but the respect and gratitude they showed us.

This Xmas Shane was only six and a half months old; the kids were a full time commitment so I was grateful to Poppa for entertaining Mark now three and half and Leanne still a toddler and easy going. Poppa enjoyed sharing the kids Xmas and painstakingly made sturdy outside toys for them which they loved, so did I.

Mark, Le-Anne, Shane. Standing Poppa Gourlay, Bill, Grandpa Gourlay.

Poppa's dad, Grandpa Gourlay a lovely old man spent this Xmas with us. He led a very simple life taking turns living with his children Aunty Vi, Uncle Cec and Poppa.

He gave most of his pension away each week including a small amount to the children for Xmas and birthdays, he died with just enough funds left for his funeral. There were no hassles and no fights over money when he died, there wasn't any.

I thought Grandpa Gourlay was a very shrewd man. I loved him.

Bill's annual holidays were over Xmas when Angorichina workshop closed. We decided we'd drive to the farm for these holidays. I was so looking forward to this holiday. I knew the farm would be the only place I could enjoy a real rest. Mum would take charge of the kids I could absolutely relax knowing they were safe and well cared for. With three young children it was quite a feat organising and actually getting us anywhere let alone travelling for ten to twelve hours with them.

The day we planned to leave mum rang and said we would run into a massive heatwave, the temperature would be over one hundred degrees we must travel at night, it would be just too hot and dangerous to travel during the day. Cars weren't air conditioned back then, an open window was the cooling system which was very uncomfortable on dusty dirt roads. We had never travelled at night, had never even considered it. We packed immediately and left Adelaide at dusk.

We made the back of the car into a bed; it was big enough for the three kids to sleep comfortably it was like a playground so plenty of romping around and pranks were happening. (No seatbelts or child restraints in those days). The kids didn't want to go to sleep, so we made another bed on the front seat for Shane, he soon fell asleep. I curled up in the back with Mark and Le-Anne and fell asleep before they did.

I had a good sleep; we all slept sound considering the circumstances while Bill enjoyed driving this comfortable Simca Vedette. It was nice and cool travelling at night, all and all we enjoyed quite a comfortable trip, we were so pleased mum had the foresight to warn us of the peril of travelling during the heat of the day with no air conditioning.

We arrived at the farm just before dawn quite refreshed, well I was I had slept most of the way. Bill slept all that day and next night to recover.

Mum had made Bill and my bed up in my sewing room, just off the house, giving the three kids the spare room in the house where we usually slept. How wonderful was this? We would be out of earshot of the kids. I went to bed that night and stayed there for three days: the most glorious three days of motherhood I had experienced since in hospital when Shan was born.

Mum took over the kids; fed, bathed, clothed and tended to them day and night it was so good not to have to worry about them. I blanked my brain; it had a spell. I revived.

My libido returned. I had been too tired and stressed to enjoy love making over the past few months, though I never ever refused Bills advances. I became adept in faking orgasms to coincide with his; he usually reached his orgasm as I was getting warmed up. I didn't want him to believe he wasn't satisfying me, so I faked many an orgasm though sometimes in frustrated desperation I persevered to achieve my orgasm by rubbing his spent penis on my 'clit'. I didn't want him thinking I was losing interest in sex especially now that I was taking the pill which gave us freedom from pregnancies.

Bill's threats of getting 'it' from somewhere else if I ever held out on him were firmly imprinted on my mind. I was determined he would never be able to use that excuse to get 'it' outside our marriage.

We must spend a day at Point Sinclair; I loved this beach and went every opportunity. Mum offered to look after Le-Anne and Shane I was so looking forward to spending the day at the beach with Mark who loved playing in the sand. We were almost to Pt Sinclair driving up a sharp crest on a narrow track when Bill suddenly jammed on the brakes, too late.....BANG! CRASH! CRUNCH!

An old bomb car full of lads was approaching the crest from the opposite direction; a head on collision was unavoidable on this narrow track. The lads were camping at remote Cactus Beach and were shooting rabbits for their day's supply of food and not concentrating on driving. Luckily neither car was travelling too fast, the track wouldn't allow speed anyway. The lads with guns were on top of the car high enough to see us and jump clear before the inevitable collision.

We came to a sudden halt. Mark standing on the back seat was thrown headfirst over the front seat finishing on the floor at my feet, fortunately unhurt. Bill had braced himself on the steering wheel so firmly the wheel was badly bent, but none of us were injured nor were the occupants of the other car.

Our treasured Simca Vedette also looked okay, but on inspection the whole body was twisted, and wouldn't start. We had to wait for some-one to come along to rescue us; mobile phones weren't even a dream then.

Eventually Jim Page, a local lad came along. I was so relieved I knew he would be able to help us. He did. He took us back to Penong where we rang mum, she was so thankful we were all okay. She came and got us.

We were shaken by the accident and very grateful to Jim for seeing to our useless damaged car, he would get it back to Penong and have it transported to Adelaide for us. The insurance would hopefully reimburse us.

How were we going to get ourselves back to Adelaide? There was only one option. Bus! Pioneer run a bus service to Adelaide from Ceduna two nights a week, we were able to get seats.

This was a nightmare trip, the bus also a mail run, stopped at every town along the way to pick up and deliver mail, making the usual twelve hour trip more than sixteen hours. Bill sat one side of the aisle in a double seat with one child I sat on the opposite side with the other two. I made a bed for Shane on the floor under my seat while Bill and I tried to sleep on a double seat each with one child, we all slept spasmodically.

When the bus stopped... at every town we all woke up and it was pandemonium... would this nightmare trip ever end?

The final straw on this trip was at one of the many stops, a semi-trailer passed us, would you believe... looking very regal on the back of the semi was our Simca Vedette.

"That's our car." I mournfully said.

There was no visual evidence to show it had been in an accident.

"Why aren't you driving it then?" we were asked by other passengers.|

"PLEASE? Just don't go there!"

Finally this terrible trip came to end. Poppa met us at the bus stop in Franklin St in Adelaide. We were all spent, cranky and so disappointed. We were back to one car... my treasured Hillman Husky, it felt strange with our family squeezed into the little van which when the back seats were up with the three kids sitting in it and Bill and I in the front the car looked even tinier. I hoped no-one we knew saw us squeezed in my little old van. I felt degraded.

We would have to do something about getting another car. We never had any money to spare having recently bought the property at Hectorville, paying off that loan and paying mum and dad as much as was left over at the end of each month.

We couldn't wait until the insurance pay out; we needed a car immediately. I didn't want to go back to sharing a car with Bill. I had been spoilt besides I needed a car to efficiently manage the properties and he needed one to go to work.

Our friend Tony solved our problem, in his current job as Bailiff he had repossessed a six year old Zephyr which had been used and abused, the instalments hadn't been paid so the owners knew it would be taken from them and had driven it accordingly. Tony offered us this Zephyr for $150. It looked a bit of a wreck, not at all like the cars we were accustomed to driving. What the heck, it would do in the interim, we didn't have a choice, and it was cheap, we could easily afford it.

We settled back at Torrensville living in the caravan and sharing Poppa's house, it was less than satisfactory but far better than living at Hectorville, so we made the best of it. Bill was happy his work was only a short drive away, and no jobs to do around the house...Poppa did them all. Bill was able to spend his spare time at his workshop at Kensington Park.

I realised this arrangement had to be temporary but was too busy coping with each day to even think about tomorrow. I took each day as it come and was so tired at night I didn't care where I laid my head. I slept... between getting up to the kids during the night.

As it happened we didn't live in the caravan in Poppa's back yard for too many more weeks. Mum and dad planned to retire to Adelaide when Roger married. Dad had accepted Roger would take over the farm and once again said to me "When I leave the farm, I'm not going back I don't want to see the mess Roger makes of it."

"Dad, he will make a go of it. Give him a chance."

Mum and dad could obviously see how unsuitable our situation was and suggested we look for a house in Adelaide for them to retire to and we could live in it until Roger and Angie married which could be a while away because Angie's parents wouldn't allow her to marry until she was 'of age' twenty one. Angie was now nineteen, until they married we could live rent free in the home until mum and dad retired to Adelaide, a home they were yet to own.

Though Angie was a "good worker" a definite essential in becoming a farmer's wife by my parents standard, I was surprised Mum and dad accepted her as warmly as they did, she come from a family who weren't church goers, her father frequented the hotel bar and in earlier days had borrowed money from dad which was finally repaid with an Austin truck from his dealership. Angie being a good worker had won mum and dad over and far outweighed any 'shortcomings' of her family.

"Just what Roger needs to support him as a farmer's wife."

Full approval and total acceptance came when Angie converted to Methodism. The insinuations in mum's letters kept me informed of how wonderful Angie was, they were now happy to leave the farm to Roger and retire to Adelaide, they were sure Roger could now make a go of it with Angie at his side.

Angie became the daughter I'm sure mum and dad wished they had had, instead of rebellious me. Sorry mum and dad, but I had to be me."

I had never done anything wrong. I never broke the law. I lived by the Ten Commandments. I didn't think I was a bad person.

I found time to look at homes suitable for mum and dad's retirement. They of course wanted to live near the city on the eastern side of Adelaide. I found an attractive small two bedroom plus sleep-out home set in a luxury garden setting on the corner of Canterbury and Devitt avenues at Payneham South. It was owned by a couple and their daughter a doctor, they were moving to a bigger home. Bill also thought it an ideal home for my parents.

In consultation with mum and dad we organised the sale, and moved in. I think Poppa was pleased to have a reprieve from having us living with him, three small kids is a bit much for an elderly man to cope with for too long.

This home wasn't ideal for us, but I knew it would be for mum and dad. There were four rooms all carpeted, two bedrooms a lounge and dining room. We didn't have lounge furniture so we used the lounge as a bedroom and the small sleep out as a living / television room because it wasn't carpeted.

The two loll-a-bouts mum had previously given us and bean bags, along with the television set filled this sleepout and was adequate for our 'living' room, it was very cramped but the kids were virtually free to do as they pleased in it without me being continually on their backs.

The kitchen was a nook set off of the carpeted dining room. I tried to protect the carpets as much as possible I didn't want them ruined before mum and dad moved in.

We set the caravan up in the large back yard for mum and dad to stay in.

They were delighted with their new home, it also had a large double garage with a side street entrance which appealed to them. They especially loved the garden and its many fruit trees, such a treat for them. The searing hot dry summers and limited water prevented the luxury of bearing fruit trees on the farm, even though they planted trees with great expectations; they struggled under the harsh elements of the climate and never prospered.

Shane was not yet one year old; this was our third move since he was born. We had moved house three times. I just don't know how I did it, juggling packing and moving with three preschool kids. Lucky had also made all the moves he was part of our family and surprisingly settled after each move.

Shane hadn't shown any tendencies to anything in particular for his 'security' or 'comfort'...until we moved into mum and dad's home, his cot was near the window, he loved to sleep with the sheer nylon curtains held to his face, he obviously loved the feel of the fabric, I was a bit concerned he was taking to lingerie type fabrics. I need not have feared he soon grew out of that and never had a special 'comforter', he preferred balls, he was happy at this young age with a cloth ball to hold.

Le-Anne was growing out of her attachment for her comfort pillow, while Mark was becoming more attached to his comfort blanket, it was never out of his sight while at home he dragged it everywhere with him, it was getting rather thin and discoloured, but he didn't care, nor did I. Mum thought the rug unhygienic and wanted to regularly wash it.

"No mum. Don't even think of it."

Washing this rug was a strategic operation. I had to choose when to wash it with great precision because if Mark found it on the clothesline he screamed until he got it off dry or not. Mum always insisted on picking it up from the floor, neatly folding it and hiding it, within seconds Mark had found it and was content with it always nearby on the floor.

The cheque from the car insurance arrived. It was enough to buy another car. We had the cheque in our hands. Poppa worked at Scott Bonner and knew the business inside out. He had talked about Scott Bonner shares fluctuating in the stock markets, way down in winter when mowers weren't such a necessity and doubling in value in summer when everyone had to have a functional lawn mower. Poppa never invested in the stock market he just mentioned this in conversation.

It was wintertime, Bill waved the cheque saying "Shall we invest this in Scott Bonner until summer when we'll double our money, or buy a car now?"

Double our money?

"Yes Please."

We invested it all on Scott Bonner shares. We had fun watching the shares rise as winter passed and summer approached.

The old Zephyr after a mechanical overhaul got us everywhere we wanted to go it would do us just fine for the time being.

I liked living at Payneham South it seemed more like home, an inner eastern suburb and near everything, it was close to the CBD, the bus stop, our flats, doctor and babysitter. Bill's cousins Phil and Les Hirst lived in the house behind us. Bill's Aunty Vi and Uncle Les lived in Canterbury Ave and best of all a kindergarten was located nearby.

Mark was nearly four years old and soon eligible to attend kindergarten. I couldn't wait. Kindergarten was the first opportunity available to give children any form of childcare or early learning opportunities outside the home in those days. There were no early learning childcare centres or even crèches, the earliest a child could experience mixing with other children in a professionally organised group was at four years old the mandatory age to start kindergarten. This was the first opportunity for a short break from children available to parents, even though it was only a few hours a day, nevertheless it was very welcome.

BRING IT ON!

Mum had empathy for people who through no fault of their own were battling. She had befriended Beth an arty lady and professional cake decorator who lived with her husband Ron and their two teenage children a girl and boy. The whole family happily lived an almost alternate lifestyle in a caravan on their isolated block a few miles out of Ceduna with no power or water services. The whole family loved animals and lived (according to mum) in disorganised chaos amongst these animals. I found it quite odd that mum could be friends with them, especially Beth who seemed rather wayward but she loved mum.

Ron needed a medical procedure in Adelaide but they never had any money to spare. How would they manage? They were a close knit family and all wanted to be in Adelaide together while their husband and dad was in hospital. Mum offered them the use of their caravan in our back yard, she wrote

"They can stay in the caravan and be independent they won't hinder you at all. Can you meet them at the bus station and get them to your place then they can get around Adelaide by public transport?"

She explained what they looked like; we had never met these people.

Bill met the family as they arrived after the long tedious trip on the bus. There was pandemonium. They had brought with them one hundred and twenty white mice which they planned to sell to a pet shop. But... these mice had eaten their way through the cardboard box container and were running freely all over the bus causing much hysteria from other passengers, and much distress to their owners who were concerned over the welfare of their treasured pets.

Bill bundled the mournful family and as many mice as they managed to confiscate along with their pet parrot and rat into our car and headed for home. What a ruckus our organised household evolved to

"Where can we put the mice?" they begged.

"In the shed"

The shed was way down the back yard. I didn't want them in the house which I knew was where they wanted them housed.

I wondered where they would house the rat and parrot and dared to ask.

"They are our babies they will be in the van with us they get on well together."

They weren't caged or restricted, they had the run of the van.

"Oh my goodness; what have you sent us mum?"

There was more mass pandemonium; the mice were escaping from the cardboard box into the shed which wasn't mice proof, consequently they were escaping into the yard. Lucky was having a wonderful time chasing these mice around the yard, and yes... killing them, causing their owners to turn on Lucky and blame our treasured pet, they did not like Lucky.

Finally they saved as many mice as they could and put them in the van with them for the night. This van was only fifteen feet long. I couldn't imagine what that night in the van could possibly have been like? With two adults, two children, a rat, a parrot and goodness knows how many retrieved mice. I couldn't wait for the morrow for the mice to be taken to a pet shop.

These visitors were supposed to be self-sufficient but our television set was a lure for them, they had never watched television. Our TV in the small sleep out was easy access, I think they thought it wasn't part of our house so were entitled to watch it... when-ever they liked. I found their kids changing channels from the channels our kids loved to watch. I couldn't keep them out of the room so I threatened them to change the channels. I felt we were being invaded.

Next day, off the family went, husband to hospital, the others with the remaining seventy odd mice; I heaved a sigh of relief. The rat and the parrot were locked in the van roaming free. YUK.

Soon Beth and the kids arrived home. Woe is me, mice as well, though by now there was less than seventy. They refused to sell the mice to any pet shop because they offered a ridiculously low price only to be used as snake food.

Upon entering the van more dramas... they discovered the rat had eaten the parrot. The rat was now in the bad books. There was much grieving for the parrot.

The last straw for me was Shane just a toddler loved playing outside where I found him sitting in the back garden happily munching on half dead white mice. Lucky now had a tummy full and was having fun just chasing and killing. I lost my cool.

The family laid low for the remainder of their stay, they kept the kids, rat and remaining mice pretty much confined to the van. I couldn't wait for them to go home. I wrote a very strongly worded letter to mum explaining all that had happened and warned her to NEVER let them stay with us again. They didn't.

Mark was old enough to attend St. Morris Kindergarten. I enrolled him in the four year old's afternoon session, and worried how he would cope as he still had an afternoon sleep each day, I knew he would get tired and cranky. I also worried because he wasn't entirely potty trained, he was defiantly possessive of his poos and only prepared to part with them when I was least expecting him to. I was in despair as to how he would manage at kindy and wished he could attend in the mornings but that session was for four and a half year old's.

He managed very well. Yes, he came home absolutely spent, but really enjoyed the whole experience, so did I. Discipline and mixing with other children was invaluable for Mark as it is for all children, this was his first interaction with other kids.

I now had a chance to wash his comfort rug which he dropped at the door as we left for kindy and looked for it the minute we arrived home. I felt I was making progress in my bogged down regime, one off to kindy and loving it.

I now had three hours each weekday with only Le-Anne and Shane and they both slept some of the time; having just two children was easy I was feeling almost normal again... OOOPS... I must have done something wrong. Bill gave me a few thumps across my upper body hitting my arms as I tried to protect myself. It hurt.

"Why do you have to get out of hand?"

"Why can't you be like my mother?"

I knew Bill loved me; at nights in bed after a thumping he was so loving and attentive. Why do I have to forget myself and let myself get exuberant and forthright? I must not forget my station. I must remain sweet gentle subservient and loving like his mother. I must try harder to be a perfect wife. I don't want to be a failure!

Mark quickly matured, he relished attending kindergarten. It gave me more time with Le-Anne and Shane they had missed out on much of my attention because they were such well-behaved kids and not one bit demanding, Mark was the demanding child needing far more stimulation than I was capable of giving him in fact each of our children needed far more stimulation love and attention that I was capable of giving them. It seemed to me I was battling to get though each day whilst trying to stay sane. I worried that I was a failure as a mother; I wasn't being the patient loving mother I wanted to be. I was mothering similar to my mother. I certainly didn't want to raise my children the regimented way my mother raised me but woe is me I could see the similarities and could seemingly do nothing about it.

Schools and kindergartens inevitably were havens for spreading germs, it was accepted all children would contact the standard infectious diseases measles, mumps, and chicken pox and the earlier in life they had them the better; then they would be self-inoculated for the rest of their lives. Mark as I expected came home from kindergarten with each of these diseases fortunately months apart and of course Le-Anne and Shane caught them though not simultaneously but two weeks apart. It was a painful grizzly six weeks of upset routines during these terrible illnesses; the only comfort was it would provide immunisation for the rest of their lives.

Measles was the worst because patients had to be kept in a dark room to prevent eye and brain damage and covered in lotion so they didn't scratch the itchy red rash coving their burning bodies.

Chicken Pox was terrible covering them in poxy itchy sores which became badly infected if scratched leaving nasty scars, it was a full time job preventing scratching especially on their faces.

Mumps though painful didn't seem as bad as the others. Each outbreak of disease was a terribly distraught period and threw our household into chaos and misery; I dreaded it as I knew we were in for six weeks of misery affecting us all. As Mark was recovering after nearly two weeks of suffering Le- Anne would start showing symptoms then two weeks later was Shane's turn. I was so relieved when the children had recovered fully from these seemingly compulsory diseases.

An ideal family I thought was a pigeon pair. Mother and father each had an arm for each child, two kids allowed one child for mum and one for dad; the third child was left to compete for either mum or dads undivided attention.

With just mum or dad there was an arm each for two children, the third child was left to vie for attention usually between mum or dad's legs. This raising children was an enormous task, there were no courses available to new mothers about raising children the most important responsibility in the whole scheme of existing. Why did I have to find out the hard way?

I plundered on doing the best I could believing I was doing what was right to the best of my ability. I had to assume I was coping well or else I would have gone insane. It's amasing how one can believe what one wants to believe. I now realise raising a family is not only the most important responsibility a person could ever be challenged with, but also the most difficult.

I became involved with the Kindergarten, at my first parents meeting I found myself on the management committee. This committee not only directed management it raised money for extras at the kindergarten. The president Norm Wilson and secretary Liz Hannaford also had children the same age as ours attending the kindergarten, these two run an efficient committee of which I was proud to be associated with.

The first 'fund raiser' I helped with was such a success and so much fun, a fete held at the kindergarten with trading tables of all kinds including food and sweets. Someone suggested we have a toffee apple stall.

"Who can make toffee apples?"

A young mother offered to make them at her home if she had some helpers. Another young mother and I offered. I had made toffee but not toffee apples. It turned out none of us had any previous experience at making toffee apples though we were all young and 'knew it all.'

My goodness what a catastrophe, we had toffee from one end of the modern spotless kitchen to the other, the toffee on the apples was a runny goo-y disaster. Finally after a few disasters we worked out how to cover the delicious red apples with a thin crispy red toffee coating which were a huge hit and sold out early. The fete was successful, it was an enjoyable day, I enjoyed working on the stalls especially as the children were let loose to freely play in the playground, a treat for Le-Anne and Shane and a treat for me knowing they were happy and safe.

At the end of the day one mother pointed to a very grubby Shane who was still a wobbly toddler, saying "Whose child is that?"

"I don't know." I jokingly lied. (I didn't really want to own up.)

"Well he's been having a wonderful time draining everyone's drink bottle."

He had been too, any bottle left lying around he supped on. I was busy working, he was happy, I ignored him. We were all happy!!!

Liz lived at Glynde, she suggested we do a shared run to the kindy, a week about. This suited me just fine, it saved so much time and inconvenience for me the week it was Liz turn, not having to wake Le-Anne and Shane from their daytime sleep and load them into the car was wonderful. Thank you Liz for suggesting we share the transportation.

Glenys and Kevin and their two sons lived in the next street, they rented while Kevin an architect designed and built their new home at Thornton Park a new upmarket subdivision near Belair National Park. Glenys and I regularly visited each other; our children played together. Shane loved cuddles, he enjoyed Glenys cuddling him, she loved cuddling him because her boys didn't like cuddles.

"You should cuddle him more, he loves cuddles." She said to me many times.

I wasn't a cuddles person, I wished I was, but it just wasn't me. I assumed Bill's mother would have been a cuddles person, her neighbours had said many times they wished she could have seen her grandchildren she would have loved them and spoilt them rotten. Bill and I both regretted she wasn't still with us though Bill's cousin Reta admirably kept her promise to Bill's mother as a surrogate grandma, she was very special to us and filled a huge gap in our lives.

Roger and Angie had set their wedding date for April 1969. Of course we would go back to the farm for the wedding it would be a grand affair, everything Angie's mum did was done in grand style which I loved. The wedding also meant mum and dad would be moving from the farm to retire in Adelaide into their home which we had made our home. We now had to vacate.

"I am not going back to 'enry St 'ectorville without landscaping and fences." I was adamant. The wedding date was drawing closer. It was summer. Our Scott Bonner shares had doubled in value. We decided to sell the shares to pay for landscaping and fences at our new home before we moved back to it. The Zephyr was still going strong it was more important to make our home livable and safe for small children than replace our car.

We approached the tenants at 'enry St 'ectorville, they had kept the house as new not caring about the awful yard, their stay in Adelaide was almost over, the Kangaroo Creek dam was nearing completion and they would move back to Sydney.

I wanted the yard tidied and lawns established before we moved back in and needed to start preparing before they moved out. They weren't too accepting of us having access to the yard but gave permission with a little persuasion.

Bill spent many hours there doing the work, organising a high brush fence across the front and down each side to join with the original corrugated iron fence around the back, he designed a grand wrought iron entrance way and double gates which he had professionally made, the lawns would be well established by the time we got back from the wedding.

Our home would look very grand and private behind the high brush fence and impressive entrance. I would be happy to move into 'enry St 'ectorville so mum and dad could move into their home and begin their retirement. Maybe... just maybe I'd be proud to say we Hoads lived at Henry Street Hectorville.

We drove to Penong for the wedding. I discovered it was my job to decorate the church. I had no idea how the stark Penong church could be 'decorated'. I scrounged what flowers and greenery that was available from the locals, I did the best I could with such limited supplies and time. It was a lovely wedding though the day passed in a blur for me. Our children now aged nearly five three and one were a handful.

Mum was packing in readiness for their move to Adelaide, she was just too busy to look after the children, she was busy clearing out the farmhouse for Roger and Angie to move in and renovate to their tastes. The house was almost bare, the floor coverings had been removed only basic necessities remained we were virtually 'batching' in the house.

We were pleased when it came time to be heading home to... dare I say it???

"enry St. 'ectorville" and maybe with the yard made livable I'd be proud enough to add the 'H's'.

Mum and dad left the farms. They had bought the farm next door from Myrtle Edwards a widowed lady who was retiring to Ceduna. This farm had a substantial stone home on it and lands that had been scarcely worked a valuable asset to any farmer. Roger would also work this farm and maybe the house could be used for a share farmer at a later date. I was a bit sad to know the home I had grown up in would never be 'home' to me anymore, my home as I knew it would change. Roger now had two farms to work and a spare house.

Dad still insisted. "When we leave here, I won't ever come back. I don't want to see the mess Roger gets it into."

"Dad give him a chance, he will be okay. Wait and see."

I wondered how mum and dad would settle in Adelaide. Back at Penong Mum and dad were big fish in a small pond, prominent figures of society, Penong Society. In Adelaide they would be small fish in a big pond. Dad relished in being in control he loved to be the centre of attention he loved to 'act up', mum affectionately called him a clown, he liked an audience and he liked to be important and he like to work, he could not abide being idle. When asked what he would do with himself in retirement he confidently replied "When you work for nothing, you're always kept busy."

They settled into city life, they joined the same church we attended, Newstead Methodist. I knew they heartily approved of us going to church and me singing in the choir. Singing in the choir was hard for me to juggle because Bill had to look after Shane who was not old enough to go out to Sunday school held during the sermon. Le-Anne wasn't old enough either, but she loved Sunday school and was well behaved so she was accepted.

I enjoyed singing in the choir and also practice nights. It was a pleasant change for me not only to be child free but mixing with new people. June was a breath of fresh air she was so knowing about 'things' and I pumped her for every bit of information about 'unmentionables'. I learned a lot from June including the perfect male/female scenario is an eighteen year old male and a female in her mid-thirties because that is the ages they are each at their highest sexual drive. I thought this a rather strange scenario _. Now I know it to be true. Thanks June for enlightening me to the ways of life._

Mum using her foresight was determined not to be a burden to Roger and me when they grew old and feeble so had put their names down at Resthaven Old Folks Home, a Methodist nursing home for the aged on OG Road. There was a long waiting list to enter this home; no-one could get in without being on the list. Mum and dad's name often came up but they declined, it was too early for them, but it was better to be on the waiting list than be stranded with nowhere to go if they ever needed aged care. They had friends living in Resthaven whom they often visited, I often visited with them. I thought it was the normal occurrence to visit sick or elderly people we knew. I imagined I would be visiting mum and dad there one day.

It was great having mum and dad live nearby for babysitting which they enjoyed doing. I was careful not to abuse the privilege I knew it took a huge effort to look after three kids at once so only left them all fed and dressed in their pyjamas if we went out for something special at night, we knew they would sleep. On our way home we'd pick them up bundle them into the car still asleep and deposit them back to their own beds.

Mum never tired of looking after Le-Anne, she was such a well behaved little Miss, I knew she would be no trouble for mum and dad. I encouraged them to have her as often as possible, because it was Le-Anne's only opportunity to enjoy undivided attention from a family member. At home she was the 'in between' of her brothers and she needed more one on one interaction.

Leanne relished and flourished under mum and dad's care. I knew they would teach her right from wrong, she would learn to be obedient, though she usually was anyway. Mark was independent enough not to want to spend unnecessary time with mum and dad and I didn't like leaving Shane unnecessarily with them, mum didn't have much patience with him and he wasn't as developed as Le-Anne was at that age, he couldn't talk very well and seemed slow in learning.

I looked forward to moving back into our own home, the tenants had left the house immaculate they were wonderful tenants. Our home was now private and safe for the children to play in the yard.

The best part about moving back to Hectorville was Mark would be starting school next year and school was only a short walk around the corner, he would be able to walk safely to and from school on his own. The school being so close proved to be an unexpected boon to me, it saved me many hours not having to transport children.

I loved the high fence which allowed us much privacy. There were no other front fences in the street. The neighbours were a bit put out. I'm not sure if they didn't like the aspect of front fences or they were envious of it. The Italian mother of the three children said "You are mad putting up a brush fence, the kids can easily climb over it and it's too easy to burn down."

I shuddered! I could imagine her little terrors doing just that, it was because of her children that we installed a high fence. We would make sure it's insured and I would make sure they never climbed over it. They didn't.

Many years later most people in the street had front fences, mostly made of brush, even the Italian family with the three offenders.

_Henry St Hectorville with new fence and gate_.

I enjoyed living in our own home again. The kids could now safely play outside. We concreted around the house, created paths and garden borders, including a sandpit for the kids at the back amongst the fruit trees we had planted. Bill built a pergola over the sandpit and planted grapes vines providing ample shade in summer as well as delicious juicy grapes to enjoy. The kids spent many hours in the sandpit, they loved it. So did I and vigorously encouraged outdoors activities.

Mark was still able to attend the same kindergarten, Liz bless her heart had to go way out of her way to come via our new home to transport Mark, but she said "I don't mind, if I am already out it's nothing to go via your place."

We continued this arrangement until all our children finished 'kindy'.

We didn't have much furniture. Bill would make our furniture as time permitted, he would make our bedroom suite, lounge suite and dining setting, in the meantime we'd make do with the bits 'n pieces we had. Furniture for the kid's rooms was a priority.

We bought an old solid wardrobe and an equally old but well-made large four drawer dressing table for Le-Anne's room which Bill built in and hand carved intricate wood designs which he glued decoratively on the doors. These carvings were unique, Bill was a clever designer, his designs were exquisite. He stripped the dressing table and carved a wooden mirror to hang in place of the plain standard one; he painted them all white and added matching flower patterned china knobs and handles to complete the renovated furniture. I made curtains to cover the large corner windows and covered an old upholstered bed head with matching fabric. The room looked lovely and so unique, aptly suitable for our little princess.

Bill also made the furniture for the boy's bedroom. This room was quite small so we designed the furniture to be practical, providing a modicum of privacy for each son. Mark's bed overhung the four feet high wardrobe which it was built on, underneath the overhang Shane's bed fitted. Mark got into his bed by a ladder, too high for Shane to manoeuvre ensuring Mark's privacy.

I made matching curtains and bedspreads from the very latest fabrics, heavy cotton print featuring the history making space landing on the moon. July 20th, 1969 the first man Neil Armstrong landed on the moon, the print on these curtains and bedspreads depicted the landing, the space walk, the space clothes, the spaceship and the whole history making space venture, a great history lesson for the boys.

Neil Armstrong's words sounded loud and clear throughout the world.

"One small step for man, one giant step for mankind."

Our bedroom would have to wait, we had our comfortable double bed ensemble and the original old secondhand wardrobe we bought when we moved out of our original bedroom upstairs in our first home. We never had many clothes and my habit was to be rid of any clothes I hadn't worn for a full year, they went to the Op shop so we didn't need a big wardrobe.

Bill saw in an antique shop a genuine antique gilded clock about a foot high (30cms) a beautiful elaborate design and very expensive. "It will look lovely on the mantel of our feature wall in the lounge; times are bad I will make them an offer."

I agreed without even looking at it, I knew it would be very special. It was. It was a particularly well-crafted specimen.

"Good investment" Bill assured me; he had such good taste.

He also found an elaborate print in a gilded framed of an old world drawing room scene also quite expensive, he apologised because it was only a print. I had no notion what a print was but the predominant colour of the ladies gowns were the same colour as the chairs Bill had made for his mum and the frame looked decadent.

"It will go well on the wall in our lounge." Bill convinced me.

He was right. It certainly enhanced our sparse lounge room.

The grand eight light crystal chandelier we had bought with our wedding present gift money specifically for the lounge in our first home seemed to be made for the sunken lounge and greatly enhanced the room.

With the money I made from sewing I bought items for our home that Bill couldn't make, like light fittings, curtain fabrics, mats etc. I felt I was contributing and didn't feel guilty buying what Bill considered 'useless' things even though I thought they were necessary to make our home comfortable and homely.

Bill had many great ideas for making money. He thought the hand carvings he carved and glued onto Le-Anne's bedroom furniture could be mass produced by taking a mould of the original carving, pouring a liquid plastic substance into the mould; when set a perfect replica could be turned out. When painted no-one would be able to tell it wasn't an original carving of wood. Bill was so clever not only could he design and carve such beautiful carvings but knew ways to benefit from this wonderful talent he possessed.

Only a few months later some-one else had done exactly this, the market was flooded with plastic carvings suitable for gluing onto furniture; these plastic carvings enhanced furniture and were proven very popular. I knew Bill was onto a winner, but he was 'pipped at the post'.

Bill yearned to leave work at Angorichina. He didn't like the pressure of having to account for every minute of his working hours for which someone had to pay, he was not only one of the few woodcarvers in Adelaide he was the only designer and very good at it but designing and woodcarving was so time consuming. Pressure put on him to produce the furniture in much less time made it impossible to produce to his satisfaction.

Bill thought if he had his own cabinetmaking business he could please himself how long it took and how much he would charge. He looked at properties suitable for such a business; it had to be in a prominent position. I wondered what we would buy it with! I dare not ask my parents for more money. Financing this dream didn't seem to faze Bill.

Norwood Parade was the popular area for fine furniture shops. There were many properties for sale along the Norwood Parade but just too expensive at around $14,000, so he looked at properties in the streets adjacent to the Norwood Parade. He found a run down two storey villa on George street right behind the Norwood Town Hall, it didn't matter what it looked like he planned to bulldoze it and build something suitable for his needs. The asking price was $12,000 way out of our price range I thought.

Bill pondered over this property. It was rented by rather different looking people, we saw them going to and from the building. It was owned by a consortium who owned the Parkade shopping complex opposite.

Bill suggested we offer $6000 as properties still weren't selling, especially old run down properties, maybe they would be pleased to be rid of the liability and accept our cheeky offer.

"What will we do if they accept the offer? We don't have any money." I asked Bill.

"We will get temporary finance, that way we only have to pay back the interest which is half the amount we'd have to pay if we paid back the principle as well. The rent for the property will cover the repayments of an interest only loan, so we won't be out of pocket."

"But we'll have to pay the principle back eventually."

"No, we'll just renew the temporary finance. We need never pay off the principle, and if it doesn't work out, the worst that can happen is we lose the property, which we never had in the first place. So we are back to square one."

I couldn't argue with that, all the same I didn't think it was ethical. I knew this wasn't how mum and dad worked they didn't like owing anyone anything.

What would they think?

Especially after providing us with so much finance.

Early December 1969 we made an offer of $6000 for 45 George Street Norwood directly to the owners. We received no response. Our lives carried on each day the same as the previous days. Busy. Boring. Busy. Bill going to work each weekday. Saturday he worked in his shed.

Sunday mornings we went to church, quite a feat dressing and keeping three small kids clean in their 'Sunday best', the afternoons were spent with our relatives mostly us visiting them, occasionally we entertained them all at our place. Saturdays was the only chance Bill got to do any extra work on our new home or any of our properties.

I knew I had to do as much of the 'extras' as I possibly could. I juggled all the routine chores of a housewife and mother between my other responsibilities, collecting the rents, doing the books and all correspondence, paying all the accounts, then paying mum and dad what we could afford at the end of each month and writing my twice weekly letter to them as well as being an active member of the Management Committee of the Kindergarten Mark attended.

Tending to the children was becoming easier as they got older I had more time for making all our clothes and occasionally clothes for others, though my first priority was maintenance of the flats. I did all I was capable of and as time went by I learned quickly; apart from totally spring cleaning I became very capable at patching walls and painting, I found myself doing maintenance jobs I never thought possible for a female let alone me. I was very proud of myself. I was contributing to our future. I wanted Bill to be as proud of me as I was of him.

Xmas 1969 was approaching we had booked the beach shack at Aldinga for these Xmas holidays. We hadn't had a reply to our $6,000 offer for the Norwood property; we wanted to know one way or the other before our holiday.

"You had better phone them and find out." Bill said.

"Yes we accept your offer."

We had only viewed this property from outside we never looked inside, didn't matter we only wanted the land we planned to bulldoze the dwelling. There were tenants living in it paying a nominal rent because the property had been condemned by the housing trust. We didn't care what sort of tenants they were they could stay on until we decided what we wanted to do with the property.

Now to arrange finance! E.C.R.Shepherd & Co were offering temporary finance at a higher rate with interest only repayments affordable for us because no principal was paid, in return they held the deeds of the property; they wouldn't lose if we defaulted.

Bill had been looking at new cars; he decided we should borrow an extra $1000 and buy a Holden. The first model Kingswood's were now 'old stock' selling cheap because a newer model was on the market. United Motors were selling them for $1000 much cheaper than Freeman Motors. I defected; we bought a brand new though superseded model H K Holden Kingswood from Freeman Motors opposition.

I thought taking a $7000 loan on a property we paid $6000 for which was really worth $12,000 whilst gaining a new car into the bargain was clever business.

I knew mum and dad wouldn't think that, they worked on owning everything outright not owing anyone anything was the only way for them that's why they had bought our properties for us.

I continued to pay them back as much at the end of each month as we could, and I did. I managed all our finances; we were doing fine, our rental properties more than paid their way.

As I suspected mum and dad weren't impressed, they weren't interested in looking at the property, when we showed them they barely glimpsed at it and didn't even bother to get out of the car... point taken.

We took off for our holiday to the rented shack at Aldinga beach in our brand new car, owning another property 45 George St Norwood. Aldinga's unique miles of white sandy beaches were beaconing, we couldn't wait to relax on them and let the kids roam free even though we knew on hot days there would be three rows of cars parked for miles along the pristine sands. The children loved the freedom of the sand sea and surf and playing with the many other children also on holidays. We loved this relaxed lifestyle.

We spent considerable time at our block admiring and tidying it up, it really was a lovely block. We still had a 'For Sale' sign erected on it and had many inquiries from prospective purchasers, until we told them the price. Good! We really wanted to build some sort of a shack on it ourselves.

So ended the sixties!

Xmas 1969 Le-Anne 3. Mark 5. Shane 2.

# The Seventies

## 1970-79

# Chapter 12

## Life at Hectorville

Life was hectic...all work it seemed and no play. I was on the run all day, mum expected me to spend time with her.

"Mum if I had any time to sit down and talk I'd be sewing.

"You will have to slow down soon. You are approaching middle age." mum indignantly told me.

Boy did that jolt me to my senses. Last time I had time to think I was a teenager.

"I am no-where near middle age." I emphatically declared.

"You are. You must face it. The bible says a lifetime is three score years and ten. Seventy is the average age and you are nearly thirty."

True! This was the year I turned thirty. February 1970.

I dreaded my birthday each year, especially since being married. The only person who ever remembered was mum, she never failed to ring or send a card to arrive on time. Bill never remembered and made no excuses.

"I have too much to think about to remember mundane 'things' like birthdays."

I accepted he was much too busy to remember so I made a point of reminding him, it still didn't work.

|"I am much too busy to fuss over 'things' like birthdays."

My thirtieth birthday came and went as all my previous birthdays had... uneventfully.

Poppa's neighbor owned a 1927 Chevrolet he wanted to sell; he had bought it new, it was still in excellent condition. I conferred with Poppa to buy it for Bill as a surprise birthday present. I knew Bill loved cars. I thought he could restore it and get much enjoyment from it. Poppa agreed to store it in his shed. I was happy doing something special for Bill. He was so surprised and thrilled at this unexpected gift.

I had assumed wrong, this car remained stored in the back of Poppa's shed for many years: untouched. Eventually Bill suggested he sell it to his mate John Sander a mechanic who coveted it and had time and expertise to restore it. John loved this car, he drove it in all the appropriate car rallies proudly showing off his as new shiny vintage Chevrolet which purred along without missing a rev; he often invited us to join him in the car as he proudly drove it through the streets.

One day Bill surprised me by saying "We're going into town today; you are going to buy yourself something extravagant to wear." I proudly made everything I and the children wore which cost nothing because I made our clothes out of recycled clothes; it was extravagant for me to buy something for myself that wasn't a necessity, but Bill insisted.

Well I could do with a new overcoat. I was still wearing the one I had bought for going to work when I first moved to Adelaide. Frocks still the only acceptable mode of dress for women needed an overcoat for warmth, the standard apparel to wear over a frock. I didn't like tailoring so I avoided making tailored clothes. I would never make myself an over coat; I was pleased Bill insisted I buy one.

Off we went into Meyer straight to the coat department. Bill steered me over to the fur coats.

"Don't be daft I'm not trying them on, I couldn't justify paying so much for a coat."

After much insistence from Bill ably assisted by the salesgirl I dared try on a knee length overcoat of lush grey lapin fur. I couldn't believe how luxurious and warm it felt, or how good I looked in it. Bill insisted we buy it.

"You deserve something nice for yourself and that matching fur cloche hat as well."

The assistant had shown Bill the matching fur hat while I was admiring the luxury of the coat. I felt very special. I loved Bill so much for insisting I treat myself to such extravagance. He loved me too; he was proud of me and obviously loved to show how well his wife dressed.

I just loved this coat even though I thought I wouldn't get to wear it too often, probably only on special occasions. I was proved wrong. This coat looked classy worn casually, formally, or over evening gowns.

The shorter length wasn't practical for warmth; my exposed legs felt the cold, so I bought a pair of long leather boots which solved cold weather problems. This outfit afforded me a friendly superior status amongst our friends, and many admiring looks from strangers. I could be transformed in a flash to being well dressed just by putting this coat on over whatever ordinary clothes I happened to be wearing. I loved it.

I was continually on the run, I had to be to achieve my work as quickly and efficiently as possible, to enable me time to sew. I tried to be at the sewing machine a few hours while Shane, the only child still at home had his afternoon nap... my time. I didn't like being interrupted during this 'special' private time. It annoyed me because mum and Jean an elderly neighbor knew Shane slept at this time and insisted on visiting while he was asleep.

"We visit you when it is peaceful and we aren't interrupted."

I was brave enough to tell them I needed that time to myself to regain my sanity, mum got the message. My neighbor...well... she didn't. I tried another tactic with her, it worked.

I loved the outdoors and the sun. I liked to be tanned even though, as doctor had warned me

"You are a freckly red head; you should cover up in the sun."

Since the birth of my babies in the privacy of my yard on warm sunny days I always donned skimpy bikini's to hang the washing on the line and do the gardening, including mowing the lawns. Bill had taught me to use the lawn mower because he got sick of me complaining the lawns needed cutting. I didn't mind cutting the lawns with the Scott Bonner mower, once I got it started I just run along after it all the while in my bikini getting a suntan. I loved working outside I could keep an eye on the kids who loved the outdoors as well.

Before we had our fence the front yards of our street all blended into one and were bare of anything but lawns, some neighbors lawns needed mowing more often than it got done. I found, quite by accident how to get the street tidied up... I donned my gardening gear, brief bikinis, and mowed the lawns. Low and behold in no time at all the men of the neighboring houses were out mowing their lawns as well.

"Job well done Eunice!"

Our high brush fence afforded us total privacy, I didn't like having white marks on my body left by a bikini so I discarded all attire and spent every warm day at home in the nude. I loved the freedom of no clothes. I did all the backyard work in the nude. I could hear if anyone entered our yard the heavy wrought iron gates clanged as they were opened giving me enough time to pull on a shift which was always at hand.

One warm day the children were asleep, I was happily sewing, yes in the nude, when I heard the gate open, neighbor Jean.

"Damn!" "No! Damn it! Time to teach her a lesson!"  
I didn't pull on my shift. I was at home. I could do as I please.  
I opened the door, stark naked, without batting an eyelid I said "Hallo. Come in. You have to take me as you find me."  
She came in; we sat (me in the nude) and held a short conversation as if nothing was amiss. The conversation was short because she didn't stay too long, in fact she made quite a hasty retreat.

"YES! I won that round."  
She never visited again! GOOD!  
Even so we remained friends until she died forty odd years later.

I couldn't sew without the company of TV especially the Midday Show with Mike Walsh and endeavored to watch, sorry... listen each day as I sewed.

I learned so much about 'living' different lifestyles. Mike Walsh was way ahead of his time, he dared discuss taboo topics, topics which I was never allowed to think about let alone talk about. I learned so much from The Midday Show. I especially learned any topic touchy as it may be was open for discussion especially sex.

Sex was a subject 'nice girls' never talked about not even with their husbands and certainly not with family or friends. I soon realised open discussions alleviated the secret innuendos which insinuated topics smutty or wicked.

Mike had many guests on his show who he encouraged to openly discuss the topic of their genre without a hint of embarrassment; in fact I soon felt these previously taboo subjects were quite accepted protocol and indeed 'normal'.

Days of Our Lives, a popular soapie was also a favorite, I felt I knew each actor personally their capers opened my eyes to another world of living. I took all the days of their lives to heart, their capers imbedded somewhere in my brain even though I had never known of such drama's, tragedies and loving in real life. I took it all on board, convincing myself this was only a TV soapy and never happened in reality. I dreamed about the sexual innuendos emerging from the TV screen. How wonderful it would be if......

"How protected from the truth of the outside world was I?"

Hectorville being a new subdivision with no trees looked so barren and bare, our street was still mostly vacant lots and very messy because the vacant blocks were used as a dump by the neighbors, yes including me I am ashamed to admit. The council had planted small native trees in the street in front of each block, but never watered them. I desperately wanted trees to grow and enhance the area, so I regularly carried buckets of water from our taps and watered the trees in front of each vacant block. I wasn't game enough to water the trees in front of occupied properties... unless I was certain there was no-one home. All the trees prospered bar one, the one I never watered because the occupants were always home and they despised trees.

Our new home and garden absorbed any spare time we had. We planted fruit trees along the back fence and selected established trees dotted around the front yard, we both loved trees...big ones. We rued the fact our block was barren; our first priority was to have trees enhancing our block. I nursed the newly planted treasures and talked to them every day: they responded.

Our Italian neighbors had no trees in their gardens, they used all available space for growing vegetables, they didn't like trees because they took too much space robbing the soil of goodness and moisture and dropped their leaves making a mess.

A newly married young Australian couple lived opposite us. Jeanette and Graham whose garden consisted of lawn from the back fence to the front kerbing which Graham kept absolutely immaculate, he also didn't like trees.

Jeanette was not only a good cook and immaculate housekeeper but an experienced capable podiatrist. We often used her generous free advice and services. I proved her knowledge and expertise many times, after giving me her diagnosis she'd say "Go to the doctor and see what he says."

Doctor always diagnosed exactly the same as Jeanette. I never went to the doctor again unless she distinctly told me to.

Jeanette saved me many trips to the doctor and hours of time, she was always willing to stop whatever she was doing to tend to our problems, she loved to use her skills and expertise. She became pregnant near the end of her podiatry course and was giving birth instead of sitting for her finals exams, she became a full time mother as every woman did in those days, thus she never completed her course and wasn't qualified to practice (though she was better than any qualified podiatrist I have ever been to), their loss was our gain.

Jeanette willingly tended many of our woes and many ingrown toenails all for lemons, literally... from a prolific fruiting lemon tree in our yard, we were happy to keep them supplied. They were good neighbors though we seldom mixed socially we were always there for each other. Even now we live in different states thousands of kilometers apart I often ring Jeanette for advice, she never fails me. Jeanette as I write this is a first aid employee and instructor. Lucky folks are those who have her expertise and compassion administering them.

Our home only had a single carport, we needed a shed desperately. Bill had prepared a spot in the back corner behind the carport for a 24ftx24ft shed to be built. Eventually we had it built. I thought a colored floor would look better than ordinary cement. We laid colored cement; yellow, as it was being laid it looked like shit: 'baby shit'. I think we were the only folks in Adelaide to have a shed with a 'baby shit' yellow floor.

We extended the single carport into a double carport perfectly aligned in front of the shed. Our home now utilised the whole width of our large block; a double carport for two vehicles under the main roof of the house and a large shed for Bill to use as a workshop at the rear of the block. He moved all his equipment to Hectorville from Kensington Park, he now had double the space for his workshop.

The backyard was landscaped, the shed/workshop in place, fruit trees along the back fence completed our home but there was no shade over most of the back yard or the shed, we both loved weeping willow trees, we dreamed of having one in our yard we loved the beautiful green of the leaves and the graceful fall of the weeping bows. We sought advice from the local nursery man.

"How far do we have to plant a weeping willow tree from the house?"

"Plant them a hundred miles from anywhere."

We ignored his advice and bought the most established potted willow he had and planted it in our back lawn, when grown it would not only provide shade for the kids to play but shade the new shed as well. I nurtured this tree encouraging it to grow as quickly as possible. It did. It grew to be a beautiful large shady tree, we loved it: it kept growing and became a humongous tree so large it shaded the whole yard and Bills workshop pretty much all day.

It continued to grow. I hadn't counted in the mess it made; in winter it dropped every single leaf which was great for letting the sun shine through but the work involved clearing the leaves almost outshone the beauty of this weeping willow.

Many years later when our cement paths and house foundations cracked and all our drains became clogged with roots we had the major job of taking this huge tree out. We agreed with the nursery man, weeping willows should be planted a hundred miles from anywhere. How gullible were we to pay extra for an established tree and nurture it so caringly when willows grow prolifically from a simple cutting?

Bill had chosen lovely specimen trees for the front yard. We strategically placed them to not only enhance the yard but deciduous trees to shade the north and western windows in summer and allow the sun in in winter. These trees had space to grow freely and be displayed at their magnificent best. I loved these trees; we bought them as established trees and I tended them with much TLC.

I thought a swimming pool would make our home complete. I had a perfect spot for it in the front yard. Bill absolutely refused to have any sort of pool until all the children could swim with confidence which was a responsible stance to adopt.

When the children were six, four and three years old I took them to a heated indoor pool for swimming lessons where I proceeded to fill in the necessary enrolment papers. I looked up and around the pool and could see Mark and Shane but not Le-Anne who when I last saw her was strutting her stuff confidently around the shallow end of the pool looking so cute in the pink two piece bathers I had made her.

I skimmed a quick look over the pool, the deep end... sure enough just under the water I saw a pink blur and just above it two little hands poking up out of the water. Le-Anne was completely submerged and doing what she had seen on television when drowning holding her hands high in the air. I screamed at a guy in bathers and pointed to the pink blur in the deep end of the pool.

"That's my daughter in there. Can you get her out please?"

The guy in the bathers immediately jumped in as did two guys who were fully clothed and rescued her; she was fine and totally unfased. I felt so bad for the two guys who jumped in fully clothed it was a cold day but they didn't care they were grateful she was okay. I had on heavy leather winter clothes and long boots that's why I asked a guy in bathers to save her.

We wondered if Le-Anne should continue with her lesson, her first swimming lesson, we let her decide, she chose to continue. Le-Anne became a prolific swimmer gaining many certificates during her younger years.

There were free swimming lessons each January holidays but I continued with private lessons during the year, soon the children could all swim but I couldn't convince Bill to install an in ground pool, though he compromised suggesting a twelve foot diameter above ground pool to start with. Okay!

We installed a twelve foot diameter pool in the front yard on the spot I had planned for the in ground one. Much excitement and enjoyment was had in the pool in the first few weeks until winter approached then it was forgotten and the water turned green then brown. We didn't know what to do, Bill left it to me. I had no idea so I sought professional advice, after much hard work the water became cleaner but never inviting.

One hot day I arrived home after the children had got home from school to find a note saying "Caught the bus to Payneham pool, be home by 6pm."

This exercise became a regular occurrence on hot days.

Our pool was seldom used, the water turned green again. I got the message we emptied the pool and dismantled it. I scrubbed the lining to look like new sold it and restored the area back to lawn. How glad was I that Bill had insisted on an above ground pool first? I have never wanted to own a property with a swimming pool since, and haven't at the date of writing this.

Ps. editing this book many years later I own a pool (by default! Would love to fill it in!!!!!

A change in the way we shopped took place when credit cards were introduced. I didn't think we needed a credit card, we had monthly accounts at every shop and business we dealt with, these accounts worked pretty much the same as a credit card except if the payment wasn't paid at the end of each month the shop keeper missed out.

I always paid by cheque every account in full at the end of each month. I made sure our credit rating was impeccable. I didn't think we needed a credit card I wasn't going to get one. Of course we did, we were forced to as each business closed accounts and reverted to using credit cards.

What a huge revolution credit cards were, when the children were older and sensible (still at school) I arranged for them to each have one even though the bank manager strongly advised me against allowing minors the access of a credit card. I assured him I would be responsible for the payments. I trusted my children.

It was a huge bonus for me because they were able to do much of our shopping, saving me heaps of time, especially Le-Anne, she sought out apparel bargains we could both wear she'd ring me at home from a pay phone, describe the article usually shoes and accessories, and ask if she could buy it. I was never disappointed in her choices; she knew not to ask for clothes because I made them.

# 

# Chapter 13

## My Babies Grow

Mark started school at the beginning of this year 1970 he was five and a half. He still protected his 'comfort' rug, by now it was a quarter of its original size; as it had fallen into pieces I hid them to use as spares in case.

Mark's first day at school as usual he dropped the remainder of his 'comfort rug' inside the door and proudly went to school. This day was not only a big day for Mark which he had been looking forward to for so long it was a massive milestone in my life. I have a photo of Mark standing at our front gate waving as he left for his first day of schooling.

The first day I took him to school after that he was able to walk to and fro on his own because we lived practically next door. The neighbours who lived on the other side of our street backed onto the school property, we often joked about putting a gate through their back fence so the kids wouldn't have to walk around the corner to the main gate.

Mark settled into school very quickly, he was a well behaved obedient student, he always got good reports. School was just what he needed. He met lots of new kids and made lots of new friends. He was growing fast. Good, I couldn't wait for all my kids to become independent. OOPPS!

I guess independence also brought independent opinions. I expected my children to do as I said. No discussion entered into. So... I was taken aback when Mark declared "I want to wear proper jeans!"

The trousers I made from discarded men's trousers were so serviceable I thought it a waste to buy jeans. Mark was adamant about wearing jeans instead of the trousers I had lovingly made which cost nothing. I asked Bill what to do about him, without thinking he said "Let him wear Jeans if that's what he wants, it's no big deal."

I had to change my mind set. My children were growing up with minds of their own. I must respect their wishes.

Le Anne was developing into a 'worldly Miss'; she desperately needed more attention and guidance than I could give her, remember there were no child care or early learning facilities for children then.

I was lucky enough to find a ballet school who accepted a three year old. I enrolled her into these classes. I made her a cute frilled two piece outfit (out of an old crimplene frock of mine) she looked so cute. She just loved these classes giving her participation and discipline experiences which she relished in.

The ballet school was holding a concert. I thought Le-Anne wasn't ready for the stage and told her teacher.

"Le-Anne won't be able to participate; she is too young to understand, she doesn't know the steps."

"Oh yes she can participate, she is part of our school."

"But she will muck up the items not knowing the proper steps."

"No. She'll be fine. It doesn't matter if she gets it wrong."  
I was dubious and worried about Le-Anne's performances.  
I was rudely awakened when I realised I had to make specific elaborately decorated costumes for her.

"What a waste of time for a once only wear." I thought.  
Little did I realise this was to be the beginning of a lifetime of making special costumes for Le-Anne... and I loved every minute.

The concert night came. We delivered Le-Anne backstage, she was so full of confidence and looking forward to performing. We waited in the audience for the show to begin. I was apprehensive and anxious; I desperately hoped she didn't make a fool of herself.

Le-Anne's item began, out came all these beautifully dressed cute little girls, last came the tiniest and cutest, our little princess.

"Ahhh" many audible gasps from the audience could be heard.  
I held my breath waiting for Le-Anne to 'loose it'.  
All the girls performed with a modicum of mistakes including Le-Anne.  
I was too petrified and tense to appreciate the concert, but I was aware of many oohs, ahhhs, giggles, and enthusiastic applause.

I was relieved when it was all over and no chance of more embarrassing mistakes. I was too mortified of Le-Anne being the youngest, smallest, and least experienced performer to really appreciate the absolute cuteness of the concert, especially Le-Anne's personal contribution.

Now when I attend school concerts and see how cute the little ones are through all their mistakes I feel cheated that I didn't relish in Le-Anne's first concerts. Oh how I wish video cameras were available then.

Le-Anne loved to dress up, not only herself but Lucky our cat as well. Lucky wasn't all that co-operative and Le-Anne's efforts were usually wasted. One day Bill noticed Lucky had a nasty sore around her neck, a real nasty sore, we took her straight to our local Vet, Roberta Reid a straight talking older lady who loved pets over humans she especially disliked kids who abused pets. We made the mistake of taking Le-Anne along as well.

On examination of Lucky Dr Reid discovered a rubber band around her neck, it had eaten away the flesh, when the rubber band was cut and removed it opened the sore around the whole of her neck. Lucky looked like she had had her throat slit the whole way around, it was awful.

"Le-Anne 'dressing' Lucky." I blurted out.  
Roberta Reid gave Le-Anne just three years old the biggest dressing down. I thought she was unreasonable on such a young child. Le-Anne was very remorseful and upset, so was I. Lucky was treated and her neck healed. Cats do really have nine lives, Lucky used up many of them over the years.

One day Bill caught Le-Anne dressing up using plastic bags, she was pulling one over her head. Bill immediately ripped it off, including a handful of hair with it. He explained the fatal results that could eventuate from this dangerous practice. I had no idea how dangerous a plastic bag could be. From then on no plastic bags were allowed in our home, this wasn't difficult because only paper bags were used for most packaging and all shopping. Plastic bags were relatively new back then, thus the novelty of using them to 'dress up'.

Le-Anne was nearly four and relished her time at kindergarten looking forward to going each day. Sharing the transporting with Liz whose daughter Denise was the same age allowed me more time for sewing. Shane was nearly three years old I couldn't wait for him to start kindergarten as well. WOW! I wouldn't know myself, a few hours each day child free.

Shane was about a year younger than Le-Anne, I expected Shane to be advanced as Le-Anne a year down the track. Wrong. Shane was a slow developer, as each year passed Shane was way behind Le-Anne at the same age.

Shane was a slow talker. I could understand him but no-one else seemed to be able to. I really thought the brain genes had run out by the time I conceived with him. I wondered how he would cope at kindergarten. Would he be able to communicate okay? I believed he should have been more mature than he was when he started kindergarten. Would he be okay? He wasn't a moody or destructive child but didn't always do as I asked, consequently he was chastised, yes a whack on the bum.

I'm afraid I wasn't as good a mother as I would like to have been. I was too pre-occupied with attending to our flats, doing the book work including all business and personal correspondence sewing and getting my household chores done as well as writing to mum to spend quality time with the children. I knew I was compulsive over managing and juggling all my responsibilities to the detriment of the children, it worried me, but I didn't have the fortitude to change my ways. I envied mothers who could sit and relax amongst mayhem and play with their children with not a thought to any chores or other work that should be attended to.

I silently blamed myself for Shane's slow development; he had easily slotted into our family without any dramas or fuss he never demanded my attention; he was just there. I had seldom given him one on one quality time, no wonder he was a slow learner. "I must try to spend more time with him now he is home alone with me."

Alone with Shane I was really surprised, I found he had a charming personality, he was so cute. Where had he been all my life? He had certainly slipped under the radar; I had been too busy to notice his individual qualities or understand him. I always seemed to be disciplining rather than encouraging or teaching my children. I hated myself for being like that.

"Why couldn't I be a better wife and mother?"

During the school holidays I took the children to a Pantomime. I thought they'd be old enough to appreciate such a show. I absolutely loved live theatre and I wanted to share this passion with my children. I have great memories of Aunty May taking me to pantomimes when holidaying in Adelaide.

Rick Marshall, Adelaide's entertainment guru often produced and acted the lead role in his productions. I sat near the front of Scott Theatre in Angus Street with my three babies desperately praying they would behave themselves and not embarrass me. The three kids were enthralled. Rick had a wonderful personality and soon had the undivided attention of all the audience, unruly kids and all, including mine.

"Would any of you children like to come up on the stage with me?"

Le-Anne of course grabbed the opportunity, I helped her get out to the aisle where Rick gathered her along with about twenty other children ushering them up to the stage, then Rick came back to me and beckoned for Shane, he was only a toddler. I was in stunned shock as Rick lifted him up and gently carried him onto the stage. I held my breath. Whatever would Rick want with Shane? He couldn't talk, he didn't understand, he could hardly walk. He was by far the youngest and smallest kid up there. Oh! Dear me!

Rick continued the show entertaining all the children in a playful amusing way. Shane just stood there in stunned awe watching the proceedings until all the children (including Le-Anne) had been returned to their parents, except Shane and the smallest girl.

"What is going on?" I wondered.

Shane was left standing alone on the stage while Rick and the little girl stood together hand in hand gazing at Shane who was happily standing by himself centre stage not seeming at all phased. Everyone was laughing and oohing and ahhing... even though Shane looked so cute and comfortable up on the stage I was worried for him, though I trusted Rick.

Shane was used as the stooge, not in an unkind way with this smallest girl Kirsty. The whole audience was in stitches laughing at the antics of Shane, Kirsty and Rick who finally convinced Shane to give Kirsty a little kiss... he cutely bent over and planted a kiss on Kirsty's outstretched cheek. Shane absolutely relished in the humor and frivolity. Rick carried him back and handed him to me, thanking me for loaning him 'my little star'.  
I was gob smacked. I couldn't wait to get home and tell Bill.  
Our insignificant little boy had outshone his big brother and his effervescent sister. This was Shane's first public performance; he says he can vaguely remember being on the stage feeling quite comfortable....and I was so concerned for his feelings!!!!

With Mark at school Le-Anne and Shane played happily together without too many fights, they were closer in age, Mark was older and didn't tolerate his younger siblings, there were many fights when all three were together. Mark was definitely the boss Le-Anne and Shane gave in to Marks demands or else there was trouble.

Mark was quite nasty to Le-Anne. Shane as usual kept well out of confrontations. The fights drove me to despair; there were many spankings, mostly on Mark when the other two wore the brunt of his nastiness. I used a wooden spoon across the bum after many warnings. I hated having to hit the children, but it was the only way to get through; specially to Mark. Many times I banged the wooden spoon hard on the kitchen bench in total frustration to get them to stop fighting and potentially hurting themselves, one day I smashed the spoon.

"You are lucky it's smashed on the bench and not your bum." I warned them.

Through these times I realised how easy it would be to do great harm to your kids. I considered I was a person who always maintained total control of my senses; even so I was conscious of never having a knife in my hand when the children were fighting, the natural urge to retaliate could be detrimental armed with a knife.

Their fights even caused Bill to yell at them at times, also to lash out and hit them. I knew they were behaving badly when Bill who seldom chastised them suddenly exploded, his outburst usually had instant effect because they weren't used to being reprimanded by their father.

Fighting amongst the children was stressful, I didn't mind how hard or long I worked but the fights tested my patience, and there were plenty of fights. I had many talks to Mark at night after the others were asleep, begging him to be nice to his sister and brother.

"Why are you so nasty to them?" I often asked.  
He couldn't give me a reason.

Many times I had to rescue Le-Anne from harm by him, like the time he slammed the door on her fingers after being told many times not to bang doors, her middle finger was split open, she was screaming. Across the road to Jeanette we rushed, she said a split fingertip is so painful, this was a bad split needed a stitch or two. Off to the doctor, Jeanette was right as usual. Le-Anne had her finger stitched. Jeanette and doctor were very cross with Mark. So was I.

Another incident which gave me the shudders, Mark had a small spinning top that spun on a spindle and could do magical things like spinning its way downstairs, and spinning in seemingly impossible places, well, Mark got it spinning then put it on Le-Anne's head.

Her screams went right through the house as the top spun on her head spinning her hair along with it, ripping it right out of her head by the roots. I felt physically sick. Mark even showed a bit of remorse when he realised the consequence of his actions. It wasn't only painful it left a bare patch on her head.

It was so difficult trying to get through to Mark to be nice to his sister. I tried to explain how naughty he was to bang Le-Anne's fingers in the door and how painful it was for her. I was desperate as to how to get through to him; I showed him how painful it was by holding his finger in the door and gently pushing the door onto it.

"Can you understand how much it would hurt if I slammed the door closed?"  
He cringed when I suggested I put the spinning top on his head.  
I was a strict mother; I took my mother's line of teaching

"Children should be seen and not heard. "I didn't like myself for it but it was the way with me. I couldn't help it. I made sure they had a safe environment outside with plenty of toys and things to play with and I expected them to happily amuse themselves.

Our children weren't showered with loads of toys, they had solid outdoors toys like swings and seesaws, trikes, cars and tractors they could ride on, trucks, graders and bulldozers to play in the sandpit with, a cubby house and on hot days they loved playing on the lawn under the sprinkler. Indoor toys were Meccano and Lego sets, matchbox toys, board games, craft supplies for Leanne and the best 'toy' of all the latest top of the range black and white eighteen inch TV. I expected them to play happily together "or else!"  
Occasionally they did play happily though usually it was ....'or else'.  
'Or else' was a whacking to the instigator causing the disturbance or off to bed because they were obviously tired and cranky and fighting.

I shudder at the thought of how I brought my kids up. Of course I loved my kids, but it never occurred to me to tell them. I didn't love them any less, I loved each of them to distraction but I wasn't a loving mother able to show my affections, I never told them I loved them, it wasn't the normal thing to do in those days. I never heard any parent tell their child they loved them, it was taken as accepted we loved them, of course we did; it was with me anyway.

I often wonder if Mark was affected by the whacking's he got, which I might add were totally deserved, not only from my point of view but many others thought so as well, they openly told me. I wonder if my disciplining could have attributed to his total distancing and dislike of me in later years.

Although Mark was an obedient student he found school work a challenge. He didn't like reading or arithmetic, as much as I tried to coach him he couldn't spell or learn his times table fluently, however he was happy at school and got on well with the other children.

Although Mark didn't excel at school he excelled in all things practical, he became my right hand man he was excellent at fixing things, he was more interested in 'fixing' the lawnmower than doing the mowing which had become his chore. Bill always engrossed working in his workshop was happy Mark became my right hand man.

Mowing! I had been mowing our lawns ever since we moved to Hectorville, one day Bill told me it wasn't a ladies job; I wasn't to do it anymore.

"He must be feeling a bit guilty." I thought.  
Bill mowed the lawns once then handed the responsibility over to Mark. He was seven. He did a good job for the rest of his days at Hectorville and he was far more reliable than Bill. _OMG! In hindsight I now realise why Bill didn't want me cutting lawns....in bikinis or nude!_

Mark was very good at driving he learned to drive at a very young age on the beach at Aldinga. Bill allowed the boys to drive along the deserted beach at every opportunity, as very young children he sat them on his lap so they could see over the steering wheel and let them steer the car. Mark learnt to reverse the trailer while still a little boy; he did all the reversing for me. I'd drive to where we were going, when on private property I'd get out and Mark took over backing to where ever I directed, he could barely see over the steering wheel but could reverse accurately. I regularly needed his services when I took the trailer loaded with equipment to work on the flats, also to the dump when dumping rubbish. Mark excelled when he was helping me. I grew to absolutely depend on him and absolutely respect him. I was very proud of him especially in front of amased patrons at the dump when I hopped out of the driver's seat and Mark hopped in and expertly backed the trailer to perfectly abut the transfer bin even though it seemed he couldn't see where he was going.

Mark attending school involved me interacting with the school. The first 'Mothers Club' meeting I attended they were preparing donated goods for sale at the upcoming Fete. I was impressed with the efficiency of Barbara Garie the President who capably organised the whole exercise. I was even more impressed when all preparations were completed except for a bottle of champagne.

"What are we going to do with this? We aren't allowed to sell alcohol!"

"Drink it."

"This is a lady after my own heart."

We became good friends... And still are.

The fete held on the school grounds was a great success, socially and financially. There was a 'dress-up' competition for the children. I made Mark an elaborate Red Indian costume out of hessian sugar bags. Le-Anne dressed as a bride in a frock I had previously made her, they both looked so good surely they would win a prize. As usual when it came to Shane he got the crumbs.

The day of the fete I still hadn't made him anything, in desperation I dived into the bag of old clothes people had given to me for re making, of course everything was far too big and it was too late to sew something, so with safety pins and binder twine I outfitted Shane in adult clothes and dad's old holey dirty felt work hat and gave him a blackened billycan to carry on a forked stick broken off a tree in our yard, he made a cute three year old 'swaggy.'

The kids all had a ball it was so good to be able to let them roam free to enjoy at their leisure the fun of the fete in the safety of the school grounds. Mark played with his classmates most of them also in fancy dress. Le-Anne dressed as a bride soon made friends especially with the girls enviously looking at her lovely bridal frock. Shane the smallest preschool kid in fancy dress toddled aimlessly and unassumingly amongst the crowd. I felt slightly embarrassed that I had taken the liberty of dressing him up making a spectacle of him.

The prizes were announced for the 'best dressed' much to my disappointment Mark and Le-Anne never got a prize. I thought Mark should have, the effort I put into his Indian outfit deserved recognition.

As I was pondering the judge's decision I looked up, there high in the air held up by the headmaster was Shane being thrust upwards and forwards with strong arm movements by the mischievous looking head master as he announced

"And here is the overall winner of the fete. 'The best dressed'."

"What's your name sonny?" Stunned silence.

"Who does this young imp belong to?"  
I in absolute total shock admitted to being the culprit.  
A lesson I learned, it's not the work involved: it's the presentation.  
In hindsight it was probably Shane's personality (of which I still hadn't recognised) that won the prize.

May 17th. 1970 Mark turned six; he asked eight of his new school friends to his birthday party which always fell during the school holidays. I didn't like the May school holidays, usually cold, windy and raining prohibiting the children to play outside.

For this party I utilised the new shed which I decorated with streamers and balloons. The large shed greatly attributed to the success of the party as I kept them entertained with games, a few magic tricks, party food and of course a birthday cake with six candles blazing alight on it.

I delivered the happy boys home in the back of the Hillman Husky who thought being bundled into this quaint little bus like car a treat; they were very rowdy and happily sang all the way. I learned from these six year old's new words to the Happy Birthday song as I drove...

Happy Birthday to you!

Happy Birthday to you!

You look like a monkey...

and you smell like one too.

Mark's asthma attacks were increasing he had been suffering attacks for a few years. I felt for him I remember how sick I was during my attacks. Doctor had previously told me it was probably an allergy caused from animals and told me we should get rid of everything animal in the house.

At the time we were living at Payneham South in mum and dad's home, it was impossible to rid all animal products in their home because the house was covered with expensive wool carpets which mum and dad wanted and needed. I did throw out the feather pillows mum had lovingly stuffed for us from the farm.

Not long after we moved back to Hectorville Mark suffered a particularly bad attack; Doctor said again we must get rid of all animal in our home. We were still living on floorboards, the only animal we had was Lucky our much loved pet cat.

"You must get rid of the cat even if it's only temporary, see if you can loan it to some-one to care for, where you can visit it occasionally." Doctor emphatically said.

Friends of mum's Mr. and Mrs. Shillabeer a couple recently retired to Beulah Park from Penong were happy to look after Lucky, she settled in very nicely with the Shillabeers so much so that as time went on she hardly bothered to acknowledge us when we visited her.  
Mark never had another bad attack of asthma.  
Lucky spent the rest of her life with the Shillabeers.

We figured the children were now old enough to receive pocket money each week, it would teach them the value of money and how to manage it. We gave them twenty cents each. Mark was old enough to wisely spend his.

Le-Anne worked wonders with her pocket money, she budgeted and was able to give everyone a small birthday and Xmas present each year, as soon as one birthday was over she started working on and planning the next one. Thanks to Le-Anne my birthday never went by again without a fuss being made of me, receiving her thoughtful very precious present was so special.

Shane on the other hand disappeared as soon as he got his first twenty cents. I wondered where he could have gone. He eventually came back proudly juggling four quickly melting icy pole ice blocks. These ice blocks cost five cents each, he had his maths right, not the practical logistics.

I tried to salvage three of his precious purchases to freeze for later; no way would he part with them, he insisted on trying to eat them all; more melted away and ran down his self than he managed to eat. He had gone to a little corner shop at the end of our street, he had never been there on his own. I guess he figured if he was old enough to have pocket money he was old enough to go to the shop alone.

Mark still crept into our bed at least once during the night, he, with his comfort piece of rug crawled in and cuddled up to me, we slept a while until I nudged him awake lifted him up by an arm saying "Back to your own beddy byes now."

He was then always happy to toddle dragging his rug back to his own bed.

This nightly ritual continued for many years, I wondered how old he would be when he stopped wanting to come into mum for a cuddle. I don't remember when exactly it did stop.

I wondered when he would discard his comfort rug it had slowly dwindled down to a small scrap which he was still attached to. The scraps of his rug I had hidden in case of emergency were never used, eventually he accepted the few threads that were left had disintegrated. End of comfort rug.

I could never have imagined the outcome of this woolen remnant when I bought it from the Onkaparinga factory at Lobathal when pregnant with him.

The morning ritual, now with three children in our bed was also a regular occurrence and usually pandemonium. It seemed to be a race as to who was up first and into our bed to claim the favorite possy. There was only room enough in our double bed for Bill, me, and two children to have mattress space; the last third child had to double up on top of one of us, thus the pandemonium.

This ritual also continued for many years. I wondered how old they would be when they stopped wanting to share mum and dad's bed every morning... early. I can't recall when that actually happened either.

The children were all early risers they had had a good night's sleep as they were always in bed by 7.30pm and sound asleep soon after, so of course they woke early. They went to bed with Humphrey B Bear a popular television character who was put to bed at 7.30pm every night on TV. Humphrey B Bear was a favorite with all children, when he happily went to bed at 7.30pm so did our children. In the mornings when the children got up they turned on the TV and there was Humphrey B Bear again.

Our kids were always hungry, much too hungry to wait until I arose so they got their own breakfasts whilst watching TV, this allowed Bill and I precious time in bed alone which we enjoyed, but oh dear me, was it worth it?

The mess the kids made all over the kitchen dining and TV rooms left me in despair. I wondered if the extra sleep was worth the mess. I must have decided it was because the kids got their own breakfasts for as long as I remember and I cleaned up their mess every morning.

I didn't expect the children to make their beds. I made their beds every morning it ensured their rooms were usually tidy. I laid out their clothes to wear for the day and put their freshly laundered clothes away but I insisted they put their toys away which wasn't a huge chore because they didn't have a lot of indoor toys.

I learned when Mark was a baby not to have clothes that needed ironing I found I never used the clothes that did need ironing so why clog the cupboards with them. Synthetic fabrics were so easy care they washed easy and dried so quickly that we didn't need a lot of clothes, besides the children grew out of their clothes before they were worn out. I loved synthetic clothes they made laundering easy.

I was so thankful each of our children had different interests, it eliminated excessive rivalry between them; there was always a certain amount of rivalry but not over their individual interests they respected each other's interest.

Mark loved cars trucks and anything on wheels especially his outside Tonka toys and his indoors Matchbox cars and trucks. Matchbox was the only brand of miniature cars trucks etc. strong enough to stand continual use from Mark as he played happily by himself for hours making the appropriate noises as he maneuvered his treasures around imaginary roads and real obstacles.

Mark was a practical child he was able to work mechanical things out, when very young it only took him a few minutes to dismantle his toys and put them together again. He was a responsible child and did well in Cubs and St. John's Ambulance but his interest in motors overtook all other interests. When he was seven we got him his first motor bike a small 50cc which he soon mastered, we took him to the Small Bike Club at Burnside where he could freely ride under supervision. I remember Mark's first race; he drove his bike very carefully so careful he trailed well behind the others. Mark's forte wasn't competing he never raced again for which I was quite thankful but he continued riding motor bikes upgrading in size as he got older.

Le-Anne wasn't a dolly girl. The only dolls she liked were Barbie dolls she could dress, or any doll with hair that she could style, she loved to make clothes for her dolls and made some really stunning outfits from fabrics from my scrap bag, as well as coiffuring elaborate flattering hairstyles on her dolls. She loved doing all sorts of craft creations which she gave away as presents.

Le-Anne never forgot anyone's birthday, she amased me with her innovative ideas. Le-Anne and her girlfriends loved dressing up from a bag of dress up clothes I had especially for that purpose and very occasionally she managed to get her brothers to dress up, but she never got them in a skirt.

Le-Anne at seven year's old started piano lessons with a teacher who we highly respected; I never had to remind her to practice and she looked forward to lessons each week and excelled in her music exams as she did with her dancing classes, she was now doing classical ballet and calisthenics and loved performing in concerts the dance schools produced, these concerts kept me extra busy not only with the many elaborate costumes I had to make but getting her to the extra classes and rehearsals in readiness for the concerts. Le-Anne loved every aspect of it and relished in performing. She was also a Girl Guide; she was a busy little miss and learned to manage her time at a very young age.

Shane was happy with a ball, any sort of ball even as a baby he preferred a ball rather than rattles. His craze for balls never waned, he was always bouncing or kicking a ball, as he got older and stronger he was banned from bouncing or kicking any balls inside, too many light fittings happened to become cracked or smashed.

His favourite ball was the AFL ball, he used our prized new wrought iron gates when opened as goal posts, he stood on the opposite side of the street continuously 'kicking goals' through the gates; in his early years Bill had to replace the decorative turned bauble on top of each gate post many times. Shane also practiced kicking by aiming at the brush fence so the ball rebounded to him saving him the chase of retrieval, the ball continuously hitting the fence eventually caused it to bow, Bill bemoaned the fact, I thought it justified by keeping Shane happily occupied; he grew to love sport, any kind of sport.

Shane was a happy chappy when he was old enough to play AFL in the school teams. He was happy when competing.

I had always had pets on the farm. I missed Lucky. I thought a dog would be an ideal pet for our family. Bill was totally opposed to us having a dog. I asked him many times always with a negative reply until one day I must have worn him down, he reluctantly said "OK, but only a little one."

I immediately looked in the Advertiser 'Pets for Sale' and found a four year old poodle for sale at breeding kennels. I paid the ridiculously high price and brought Prince an adorable miniature black poodle home. The breeder assured me there was a lot of life left in Prince, but not as a sire, she wasn't selling his pedigree so that's why Prince was 'so cheap'. I hate to think what he would have cost with the pedigree.

I questioned why Prince looked more like a wooly sheep than what I thought a poodle should look like? Short coat with fluffy ears tail and puffs of wool on the legs was my idea of a poodle.

"He hasn't been clipped he needs to go to the beauty parlor."

"Oh!"

I had no idea though I still didn't believe this scruffy wooly dog could ever look like what I thought was a real poodle.

No-one was more surprised than Bill when I presented Prince to the family that afternoon.

You said we could have a dog."

I knew I had to act before he changed his mind.

Prince easily settled into our home and lifestyle, he was adorable, the kids loved him, even Bill was charmed by him, though not his yapping at strangers or anything unusual.

Prince loved being groomed, he all but jumped up on the nappy changing table (which was now his grooming table) to be brushed when he knew he was going tat ta's with us.

I tried to clip Prince to look like a poodle but never achieved the effect I was after. I decided to have him professionally groomed. Bill dropped him off at the doggy parlor one morning and brought this gorgeous perfectly shaped and groomed poodle home in the afternoon.

"That's not Prince."

"No! They are very sorry, there was a nasty accident, but never mind they have replaced Prince with this one."  
I was aghast, but never mind this poodle was perfect.  
Bill then started laughing. "Just joking."  
I could easily have believed this was a replacement dog because it looked nothing like the original Prince.

Prince went everywhere with us he loved riding in the car, he was now part of our family and a much loved dog.

One Sunday we piled kids, dog, picnic equipment and food into the car and went to Belair National Park a popular picnic spot in Adelaide's south where a family picnic was planned by the tennis group I played with. It was a great day, we played tennis, cricket, tug 'o war and various children's races.

Come time for us to go home we piled in the car and set off. We traveled a few miles; I turned around to see if Prince was in the car.  
Prince was in the car. BUT "Where is Shane?"

'He's not here." said Mark.  
Bill hastily did a U turn and returned to our picnic spot as quickly as we could. Luckily not all our party had left. There was Shane happily playing with the other children not at all concerned. Doris said. "We knew you'd be back."  
This tennis club never let me forget this day. It is still recalled at every reunion.

Shane doesn't remember this occasion but he recently reminded me of another time I left him at Kmart a large new store on Glynburn Road, after shopping there I was refueling the car at the petrol station two blocks away when I realised Shane wasn't with me. I raced back to Kmart where over the loudspeakers I heard "would the mother of a little boy dressed in grey shorts and white shirt please come and claim her child."

How embarrassed was I. Shane had made the staff aware he was lost and couldn't find mum; of course he couldn't. I had left the store.

Another time also in a Kmart at the opening of the Ingle Farm store we impromptu-ally after dinner decided to witness the excitement of this stores opening. The kids were ready for bed dressed in their identical pyjamas and dressing gowns I had made.

Kmart was very busy, the store was crowded with bustling buyers and lookers. It wasn't long before Mark and Shane became parted from us, we couldn't find them, we were each pushing our way through the throngs of people in different directions looking and trying not to lose sight of Le-Anne. Finally over the loudspeakers "Would the parents of two little boys dressed in identical dressing gowns please come and collect them."

Relief! That had to be our kids. I always made identical clothes for them. How glad was I that I did, it identified them as being together? I was very selective from then on where we took our children.

Another milestone; Le-Anne starting school, she had been looking forward so much to it. She excelled at school, loved every minute and the challenges school posed. She was a quick learner always obedient and very popular with the other children. She was very much the 'young Miss' in absolute control of herself and very confident, never causing us or her teachers a moments angst.

Shane started kindergarten the same time Le-Anne started school. I worried how he would cope because he wasn't talking very well, he was so far behind Le-Anne in developing. I was convinced the brain genes had run out by the time he was conceived. Although Shane was never a naughty child he was disobedient and failed to do many things I asked of him, like- "don't leave the yard, we are going out soon."  
Come time to go out. "Where is Shane?"

He was down the end of the street playing happily with the other kids in the street. He was chastised many times for disobeying me.

Shane loved kindergarten. He had only been attending a few weeks when the Director asked to see me.

"What-ever is wrong?" I wondered. "What has he done?"

I intrepidly went to see the Director, a lovely young kind caring girl.

"Do you realise Shane is deaf?"

"No. He's not deaf. "What rot was she talking?

"He is deaf!" She was adamant.

"I don't believe it; he can hear me."

"Only if he is looking at you, he has learned to lip read. You must take him to your doctor."  
I didn't believe her but took him to doctor who gave him a basic hearing test.

"I believe he could be deaf. I'll refer him to a specialist immediately."  
I still didn't believe Shane was deaf. I was sure he heard all of us, he reacted as if he did, however if he was deaf it answered a lot of questions on his development, erratic and occasional disobedient behavior.

The specialist convinced me Shane was deaf and had learned to lip read, but hurriedly assured me his hearing could be easily restored with a small operation where tiny tubes were temporarily inserted in the ear until the hearing restored itself to normal.

How bad did I feel? What a terrible mother I was not to notice my son was deaf while all the time I thought of him as backward and disobedient.

The 'small' operation involved two days in hospital. We spent as much time as we were allowed with him in the ward. Visitors had to adhere strictly to the official visiting hours, an hour each afternoon and evening only. Leaving this scared little boy in hospital was so hard. I was miserable wondering how he was doing. He did okay; he was made a huge fuss of which he lapped up.

Shane's hearing returned to normal, but his speech had been severely affected being handicapped by not being able to hear. There were no offerings of speech therapists but he battled valiantly on, he bluffed his way through his speech defects which he still has traces of today, though through perseverance and ingenuity he has overcome his handicap by becoming an amateur standup comedian.

Shane was our only child to have spent time in hospital. I was so grateful that we had three healthy kids. I felt so sad for sick children and their parents who are forced to spend so much of their lives in hospitals.

As I write these memoirs of how I brought up my children I feel so guilty. If I was a mother in today's times the welfare would probably take my children from me and put them in a foster home and I could be criminally charged.

A huge milestone with much emotion was when Shane started school, my babies had grown up; they were now all at school, although I had dreamed of this day I didn't think it would ever arrive, now it had, it seemed surreal.

It was so good living near the school, after transporting to and from kindergarten I really appreciated being able to say goodbye at our door as they went off to school each day.

I was now able to plan my days without the responsibility of children, a bit lost at first; this was a whole new way of living for me.

1976 Le-Anne 10, Shane Mark 12, Shane 9

I couldn't comprehend taking the children to the Royal Adelaide Show and refused to do so because I knew I'd spend the whole time looking for them however Bill wanted them to experience the wonder and spectacle of the show. I told him he could take them. I just couldn't bear the thought of chasing after them all the time, and surely losing them.  
Bill never took them.

When they were twelve, ten, and nine years old I gave in to their pleas, I dropped them off at the showground gates, saw them inside the grounds and went home. I'd pick them up when they rang. I had taught them never to talk or go with strangers and they knew they had to keep together and look out for each other. Mark was now mature and capable enough to take on the leadership role. I gave them spending money and 10cents each specifically for a phone call from a pay phone for an emergency and when they were ready for home.

I never heard from them all day, I had a lovely day sewing. Late in the afternoon I had a fit of the guilt's and wondered if they were okay. By habit I turned on the television, there was Humphrey B Bear doing his usual afternoon program directly from the Royal Adelaide show. I couldn't believe my eyes, there on the screen in the front row were my three kids enjoying themselves without reservation. I felt relieved. I knew they were safe. The compere of the show asked if anyone knew a joke. Shane as quick as lightning put his hand up. I shuddered and held my breath as he said in a perfect speaking voice

"Why did the robber take a bath?"

"I don't know. Why did the robber take a bath?"

"To make a clean getaway" Shane confidently announced.  
I was gob smacked. I hadn't realised he knew any jokes and he spoke so clear and precise.

This was the beginning of our kid's independence. I loved it, it took a heap of onus off me and I'm sure aided in developing their independence and confidence.

Mark's competence grew with the years. I totally depended on him as my right hand and for all things mechanical.

Le-Anne became a savvy shopper especially for shoes and accessories for us to share; we had pretty much the same sized feet. I hated shopping, she loved it.

"Mum I found these great shoes they are plenty big enough for me so they'll fit you. Shall I get them?"

"Yes. "I was never disappointed!

Shane was happy doing anything sporty. He proudly told me he had learnt to tackle at football training.

"I can take down kids much bigger than me. I could take you down mum!"

"Bet you can't!"

He didn't insist, but one day at the beach in a couple of feet of water he asked

"Do you want me to show you how I tackle? I'll do it in the water where you won't get hurt!"  
Hurt? I thought. He's got no hope of putting me down. I stood firm in the water.

"Are you ready mum?"  
Quick as a flash I was on my back under the water. I was amased at this seven-year old's skill. My kids were all surely growing up. I loved it. They didn't depend on me for everything anymore.

We'd had Prince a few years, he was never a healthy robust dog but we all loved him. Eventually he became ill, very ill. Bill insisted we give him every chance at life, incurring many visits to the Vet at great expense; eventually the Vet advised us he'd be better off out of pain. We had him put down and buried in the flower garden next to the sand pit where he loved to play with the kids. We were all very upset.

"No more dogs! I can't handle the loss!"

A couple of weeks later Jeanette begged us to take their friend's Labrador. Misty was the victim of a split marriage and needed a good home, so Misty a well-trained four-year-old bitch came to live with us. I thought this would be an ideal opportunity to give the kids an education on birthing. Even though I was brought up on a farm I had never been allowed to witness birthing and I didn't want my children to grow up as ignorant as me.

Misty quickly settled in, she was house trained and very obedient, the kids loved her she loved the kids but she was a one person dog, she chose me. I could take her anywhere without a lead, she never left my heels. I could understand how Labradors made 'seeing eye' dogs she was so focused on following me she had obviously been well trained.

Misty was so different to our poodle, Prince was like a baby compared to Misty who was an adult... until she came on heat then Misty was a dog I didn't recognise nor did I want to, she dug holes through our brush fence to get out, she was so disobedient. I now fully understand the saying "As bad as a bitch on heat."

We mated her with a friends Labrador, she settled down. I hoped she would have the pups at a time when the children were able to watch.

Misty started labor one afternoon as school was finishing, we made the new bathroom of our half built extensions her birthing room, the children could lean over the half built walls without disturbing her in fact I think half the school called in on their way home. Dear Misty did what comes naturally she pushed out one puppy after another. We all watched in wonderment, especially me, I was in my thirties and had never witnessed a birth. The kids were busy counting as the puppies appeared... five...six... seven... eight. Okay I cleaned everything up; the puppies were suckling away on her tits. I was getting dressed to go out when Le-Anne alarmingly called out.

"MUM! She's having another one!"  
I cleaned that mess up to save Misty she was exhausted. Later that evening mum rang to see how many pups she'd had. I heard Le-Anne telling her

"Nanna, she's had nine pups, and she's only got eight tits."  
Very observant I thought.

What a nightmare nine pups were. Everyone thought they were so cute, they were, but our back yard was destroyed.

We took them camping with us when they were six weeks old. We weren't campers but friends talked us into it. They provided the tent. I assumed Misty would look after the pups. Wrong! I spent the night chasing and counting pups in the tent. I couldn't wait to get home and let them safely run around the yard.

The pups all went to good homes. Misty had provided an education for us. I promised her I wouldn't put her through birthing again. I didn't.

A few years later Misty developed a lump and was quite ill, we were so worried, she was very much a part of our family we loved her. The vet assured us an operation would successfully remove the lump and she would be well again. She was for a while, until she came on heat again. Gee I hated the extra burden of a bitch on heat, but we persevered, I was determined she wouldn't mate; I would protect her as I had promised.

One morning we found Misty dead by our front gate. She had died of a heart attack as she was trying to get out the gates to find a mate. What a way to go! Another grave in our back yard.

We felt incomplete without a dog. Friends told us of their two-year-old desexed bitch Labrador pup who was so naughty they wanted to give it away. I drove to have a look at this uncontrollable dog. Fleur was shut in a shed where I believe she was forced to spend most of her time; everything in the shed was shredded into tiny pieces. They warned me when the shed was opened Fleur would go berserk and be uncontrollable.

She did, she was so pleased to be out of her jail. I let her run madly around until she settled, then sat on the lawn with her, she responded to the attention. I wanted to take her home they warned me not to drive with her in the car it would be too dangerous she had never been in a car. I put her in the back, told her to "SIT". She did, and home we went with no drama's.

She jumped out the car in our yard into the waiting arms of our kids, to their delight she loved to chase balls and bring them back, I watched as she responded to the attention and love she received. Fleur was hesitant to go indoors and had to be coaxed, she had obviously never been allowed inside.

She soon settled in as one of our family, she was a wonderful family house dog always endeavoring to have body contact with one of us.

Poppa still visited every Wednesday and took the children for a drive after school; we also saw him on Sundays, these time were very special not only for us but for Poppa as well. One day he arrived with two most gorgeous pure white kittens, they both fitted in one hand, he saved them from a litter of a stray he fed, he had drowned the others but these were so adorable he wanted to show us.

"Do you want them?"

"It depends if they get on with Fleur she hates cats and would most likely kill them."  
Fleur always chased stray cats out of our yard in a frenzied fury.  
Poppa put the kittens on the floor. Fleur immediately growled and rushed up to the kittens who took not one bit of notice of her. Fleur stopped dead in her tracks; it was amasing to watch these little white bundles charming our cat hating dog. We kept both kittens that grew into lovely cats and best mates with Fleur.

Fleur was an obedient dog and a quick learner, she didn't do much wrong if she was entertained, she must have been stifled by frustration in her previous home. She loved the beach where she loved to play cricket, she was the best fielder one could have, especially out into the ocean, she loved it and so did the players.

Mark encouraged her to sit on the lounge in the rumpus room with him, she knew she shouldn't and so did Mark, when I entered the room she guiltily slinked back to the floor with one eye warily watching me. I chastised Mark and told him it wasn't fair on her.

Misty knew she wasn't allowed in the formal lounge room though on occasions when we returned home she'd be peering out the floor to ceiling windows of the lounge room, then we'd see her back end disappear, by the time we got inside she was 'asleep' on her bed in the rumpus room.

Occasionally when we got home and Misty was nowhere to be found we knew she had got up to some mischief and was hiding in shame. Sure enough some washing would have been pulled off the line, or a hole would be dug. Boredom, I must take her out more.

We had a few nights of thunder storms Fleur was terrified, although she wasn't allowed up to our bedroom, during the thunderstorms she crept in touched her nose on me alerting me of her presence, I patted and assured her it was alright letting her sleep on the floor along side of me until the storm passed, then told her to go back to her own bed. The first night of no storms she crept up again. Worth a try I guess.

"No Fleur back to your own bed."

1975. A huge breakthrough in entertainment. Colored television! We bought one, an 15 inch portable one. How delightfully different it was from the black and white screen. I worried about the children watching TV for too long at a time, it was suggested it could be harmful for young children. For me it was the best child minding apparatus ever, the kids sat in front of it engrossed in the special children shows for as long as I allowed them too. Many children's shows were educational, which I encouraged.

Another breakthrough about this time; generic brands were introduced. This was welcomed because it offered the option of reduced priced groceries even though in those days some of the genetic products were inferior to the original but at least now there was a choice.

We still enjoyed bread and milk being delivered to our door. Milk was now only sold in pint sized bottles; the empty bottles and money were put out each night for the Milky to replace with factory sealed bottles; it was a race to have the first pour out the bottle to get the rich cream that settled on top of the milk.

Bread was also delivered and left in a container with the order and money. If Shane was home I had to be sure to quickly retrieve the bread or he would eat it before it got inside; as I found one day, a round log loaf with the end eaten off and the centre completely hollow.

A new wonder camera came on the market, a Polaroid Instamatic. This camera instantly developed the photograph and rolled it out of the camera, although of poor quality it was great to see immediately how photos turned out and take another if necessary instead of waiting weeks before we had the film developed. How many disappointments did we endure after waiting for films to be developed to find they were no good? We felt privileged to be participating in such new technology. We liked to 'keep up with it!'

It was about this time I thought I should 'upgrade' my sewing machine. I enquired about trading my dated Singer 306K for the latest model. The agent advised me not to.

"Your 306K is a lot better quality then the new ones they are making today."  
Although I was disappointed at not getting a new updated machine I heeded his advice which in hindsight has proven to be excellent.

The 306K I converted from 32voltm to 240volt when I moved to Adelaide, sewed many thousands of miles and kilometers without any breakdowns. I regularly serviced it myself (a good douse of oil) and it never failed to respond with gusto saying "thank you" as it smoothly whirred along at an alarmingly fast speed. I promised this machine I would never forsake it. _I still have it and use it, even though now I mainly use my computerised machines which virtually sew unmanned._

We borrowed mum and dad's caravan over the summer school holidays travelling interstate instead of travelling to the farm to visit mum and dad. It was good to do something different, though quite hard work for me managing the three children in the small caravan only fifteen foot long. The table had to be put down to make our bed, the kids all slept on the lounge when laid out as a bed. Caravan parks were basic, the abolition blocks were ultra-basic and hot water was never assured. 'Better' caravan parks had a swing, slippery dip and sea saw in a dustpan if it wasn't raining, if it was raining the 'playground' became a quagmire of mud. We tried to park near the 'playground' so we could keep an eye on the kids.

Bill didn't like to unhook the van, it saved him a lot maneuvering and work so we parked where we could remain hooked up. Holidays in the van weren't enjoyable for me; it was hard work with absolutely no conveniences.

Bill had ideas of renting out our home and travelling around Australia before the children reached school age. I dreaded the thought. I never encouraged it. Thank goodness it didn't happen.

I was always conscious of not putting on weight. I couldn't discipline myself to diet and had no time to follow special menus. I tried not to eat, instead I smoked. I was happy with my busy lifestyle because I didn't have time to eat, consequently I got down to eight and a half stone. I thought I finally had a good figure and my clothes fitted better. I was happy even though my boobs looked like fried eggs on my chest.

I had myself brainwashed not to eat. I didn't enjoy cooking, to me it was a necessary chore which I did for the family, I didn't enjoy eating, it made me fat. _I realize now smoking suppresses the taste buds._

One night I served up the family dinner, suddenly I felt ill, weak and listless; too listless to even put the meals on the table. I managed to stagger to the nearest bed (Shane's) and collapsed on it. I felt too weak to call anyone. Finally one of the kids found me on the bed.

"What's wrong mum?"

"I don't feel well, your dinner is served up you can all start eating."  
Bill came and helped me to the table where I ate my dinner and instantly felt better; he gave me a lecture on starving myself. I realised I probably had been; I had taken not eating too far. I realise now I was lucky not to have become anorexic. I had never heard of anorexia it wasn't a known illness in those days.

# Chapter 14

## Our Social Life.

Bill wanted to go to Broken Hill to visit the art galleries of South Australia's 'Five Brush Men of the Bush' including Pro Hart. We towed the van and settled in the basic caravan park, the day was hot and windy with dust whirling all through the unsealed park, it was too uncomfortable to let the kids play in this environment so we visited Joy and Bob (I was Joy's bridesmaid). They were appalled we were at the van park and insisted we park the van in their drive, we gratefully accepted. It was very comfortable in their lovely landscaped yard, they were wonderful hosts showing us around the town and down the mines where Bob worked.

A huge painting of Pro Hart's hanging in the foyer of the town hall intrigued us, it was in two pieces, Pro had donated it to the community and found it was too large to move, he promptly cut it in halves so it fitted on a truck. This was typical of Pro. I thought his gallery though large and full of Pro style paintings was cluttered with rubbish and weird art made from 'rubbish', Bill was in awe he thought it was all clever, imaginative and innovative. Bill would love to have bought some of Pro Harts art but it was way too expensive, besides I wasn't fond of it or his paintings.

Jack Absalom's gallery and style of art was more to my liking, he wasn't as well known or as eccentric as Pro so his work was more affordable, we bought a small painting, still quite expensive but we both liked it and was sure it would be a good investment. It was.

We were now interacting with a wider set of people providing opportunities for many new friendships. Our social life had been sparse, anyway we were too tired to go out too often. Drive in Theatres had been our main outing but the kids had proved it was a waste of effort for us.

We treasured our two sets of friends Bev and Tony's group and Gerry and Dave and Margaret and Bernie; usually seeing each group every month taking turns to host the evening. We had so much fun, we laughed and laughed, we always felt so good after an evening with them. It was through these evenings I realised how valuable the therapy of laughter really is. We all smoked tobacco; we all drank alcohol in moderation. Bill and I only drank alcohol on these social occasions. I didn't really like the taste of alcohol and I thought it was a waste of money, apart from being a bad habit.

Mum and dad definitely wouldn't approve of us drinking or me smoking, though they had accepted Bill smoking they didn't know I smoked...well they probably did know but never said anything. Mum had a wicked nose on her for smells. Bill never went to hotel bars and drank as was the norm for most guys; I was very grateful too it was such a waste of money besides my parents would definitely NOT approve.

My taste buds for alcohol changed the night of a party at Bev and Tony's friends John and Ann's house-warming. Tony was barman at this 'house-warming' party showing off his skills from his current Bar employment. The 'Fruit Cocktail' drinks he mixed us girls were not only delicious but pretty as well. The long glasses he served them in had layers of red green and yellow cordial over crushed ice, with a decorative strawberry at the top, we had no idea what other ingredients were in the delicious drinks. I remember Tony was busy keeping our glasses filled he didn't have a chance to drink too much and remained quite sober. We girls were the happiest we had ever been, we were having such a wonderful time. Someone suggested we play Postman's Knock.

"Okay!"

"What is it? How is it played?"  
I certainly had no idea.  
A couple went into an adjoining room, a few moments later a girl knocked on the door and swapped places with the girl already in there, next a guy knocked on the door and took the place of the guy, and so this game was played.

I was rather dubious about being in a dark room alone with a guy. My doubts were soon dispelled. I loved it. It was so long since I had kissed a guy other than Bill. I enjoyed some kissers better than others. The couples were only left in the room a few moments before someone, usually the husband or wife of who was in there, knocked. It was so funny deciding who would be the next person to knock; it was also stimulating being in the room alone with a guy other than my husband. We all agreed it was a great party and a great game.

We tried to emulate this game at later parties but it never had the same enjoyment as this night, maybe the delicious 'Fruit Cocktails' Tony plied us with had something to do with it.

We discovered the pretty drinks had a gin base; these drinks were better known as Gin Tropicals, the cordial flavors disguised the taste of the gin. I guess our drinks were spiked. No-one complained, especially me... just so long as mum and dad never found out. Oh how wonderful to be living incognito in a big city instead of a small town where your every move was monitored and reported to the general public who would gossip and scorn you.

I had a guilty conscience enjoying drinking alcohol, especially when we left the kids with mum and dad. I was sure mum would smell the alcohol and cigarettes on us when we picked up the children even though we collected the kids without mum and dad getting out of bed. Nothing was ever said. Mum and dad always seemed happy to have the children stay and it was good for the kids being with their grandparents and subjected to an environment other than our home... and me.

June and a few of their friends occasionally drove to Uraidla where a country dance was held once a month she invited us to go along with them. These dances were popular and well attended, the fresh produce from the local market gardens were welcome prizes, we seldom came home without a bag of apples pears or vegetables we had won. Supper was country cooked and sumptuous.

There was no alcohol allowed in the hall but the hotel was just opposite where we replenished our thirst. We always enjoyed ourselves, very much.

We made it a monthly mission to attend the Uraidla dances. We met, usually at our place, had a few drinks then drove through the Adelaide hills to Uraidla taking as few cars as possible, in fact mostly we drove our panel van because it held up to ten if we all squeezed into the back, (still no seat belts compulsory in cars) by the time we arrived we were all in a very happy frame of mind, an enjoyable night was always assured.

June was so knowledgeable; she talked about subjects that had been taboo in my life, like sex, not only within marriage but extra marital sex. I couldn't believe I was hearing what she was saying. She insisted male and females were built wrong, males were at their most sexual peak in their teenage years, females didn't reach their sexual peak until well in their thirties. It did seem all wrong because the ages didn't match up for sexual compatibility. I thought her theory indicated I was at my sexual peak right now. How could I become more sexual than I was?

"How does she know all this?" I wondered and dared to ask Bill.  
He emphatically told me I wasn't to talk to her anymore.

"She is putting stupid thoughts in your head."  
I enjoyed these conversations with June, I was hearing stuff I didn't know, it made me curious to learn more. She told me she could read people and understand them.

"Oh! Yeah! Right, tell me about me."

"You are seeking something; you are not content you are always on the lookout for something."  
I knew then she was talking bullshit. I was very content. I had a loving husband, three gorgeous healthy kids, no financial worries and not a care in the world. I defied Bill and remained friends with June, I enjoyed 'talking' to her.

We loved live theatre and went to every show in Adelaide especially the main theatre, Her Majesty where international and local productions were shown. Rick Marshall's new theatre restaurant in a duo of cottages on Dequetteville Terrace just south of North Terrace known as The Cottage Theatre was also a favourite. One cottage served as a small intimate theatre and the one next door a restaurant. The live shows and musicals Rick produced and starred in were very professional and popular. We loved to attend and have supper with him and the cast in the restaurant after the show. We were sorry when these cottages were pulled down in the name of expansion and progress.

The kindergarten had quite a few social events in the form of money raisers. I heartily participated in them all, even the monthly committee meetings were good fun. Norm Wilson the president ensured the meetings were fun. I enjoyed them and the company of the other parents, besides it was a night out for me. Bill looked after the children though I was expected to put them to bed before I left home.

Liz and her husband Kingsley belonged to St Adens Anglican church at Payneham. This church held an annual cabaret in the church hall to raise money. Liz asked me if we'd like to go to this cabaret with them, Norm and his wife Edna were also members of this church and would be attending so we would know others there.

"I don't have anything suitable to wear."  
It was so long since we'd been to a function like this, in fact Bill and I had never been to a cabaret together, I wasn't sure he would agree to go but to my delight he was happy to accept the invitation. Mum and dad were happy to look after the children for us to attend a church function, which would surely be sedate and alcohol free...

Wrong: understandably there was no booze license, but it was BYO!  
What a wonderful time we had. The church hall was lavishly transformed into a decorated wonderland, the band was 'with it' and lively, everyone danced, liberally drank alcohol, smoked and enjoyed themselves, especially the church's chaplain. I couldn't believe it, a minister of the church dancing and consuming alcohol.

"We must not tell my parents of the 'goings on' at this function."

I felt glamorous in a new long bright pink filmy flowing ball gown I had hastily made. I loved dancing with Bill; I also loved dancing with the other men. I was a very happy girl, though I had to be careful not to be too carefree dancing with other men, I knew Bill was keeping a close eye on me, which I thought was rather cute.

"He loves me."

We met new friends including Liz and Kingsley's neighbour Jenny. Jenny a divorced mother of two boys had just moved back into her marital home with her boys after a nasty breakup from her husband whom we never met. I had never known anyone who had divorced, I thought it was a happening in another world, I thought you married for 'better or worse' and lived with what your lot in life dished out to you, besides it was very difficult to obtain a divorce.

In these days there were only three grounds for divorce; adultery, insanity and unreasonable behaviour all needed solid evidence for proof, and usually followed by long court cases. I knew Jenny must have been through a tough period.

I was wary of Jenny she was at the cabaret alone and appeared to cling to Bill. I voiced my concerns to Liz who laughed at me and assured me I had nothing to worry about with Jenny. I wasn't so sure.

Liz was a great organiser and organised many social functions to which we were invited, including their street parties where many of their neighbors participated. We loved these get togethers, everyone had small children, we all had good jobs and nice homes we all enjoyed each other's company.

I still wasn't comfortable with Jenny especially when she leaned on Bill to protect her from unwanted advances from guys. She often begged us to drive her home. I watched her closely to make sure she didn't make advances to Bill.

She didn't. Liz was right and Jenny is still one of my very best friends.

Liz and Jenny started a Saturday afternoon social tennis group on two council owned courts in Payneham South. Jenny's sister Bernice and husband Peter and their three daughters all good tennis players, the neighbors and friends of Liz and Jenny mediocre players, all played strictly for enjoyment. Liz begged me to join them. Bill didn't play so I felt I shouldn't waste time away from home to selfishly play tennis on the weekends while Bill was busy working at home, besides I didn't really like playing social sport I preferred to play competitive sport.

"What do you usually do of a Saturday afternoon?" Liz pestered me.

I couldn't give her a decisive answer.

Finally she convinced me I should do something for myself, besides as Liz pointed out "the children can all play with each other on the swing and see-saw in the park adjacent to the courts."

These tennis afternoons proved to be the best social event I could have ever joined. Norm and Edna Wilson, Barbara and Malcolm Ashby, Lawrie and Nita Fiovanti, Doris and Russ Jamieson and Joyce Whittington were also founding members. Our children happily played together in the adjacent park. Our Saturday tennis afternoons were only interrupted by rain which annoyed us all so much so that we adopted Jonny Farnham's hit song at that time

"Raindrops are Falling on Our Heads" as our theme song.

Jenny was a social organising butterfly, on rainy days she organised some gathering of sorts in lieu of tennis and every afternoon after tennis she ushered us all together for drinks usually at the nearby Maylands Pub. We took over the (then) very basic beer garden of the pub, aptly naming it our "Clubroom" where our nonplaying tennis husbands and wives joined us for drinks after tennis. These were such fun social occasions. Jenny progressed to organising impromptu dinner and parties at someone's home (usually hers) after tennis when there was nothing formal planned. Bill who worked in his shed all day came to expect a social event each Saturday night. His standard question after tennis was...

"Where are we going? What do I wear?"

Mum and dad were always willing at short notice to have the children; if we were going to a function not suitable for children we'd drop them off on our way to and pick them up on the way back. I was always conscious of mum smelling alcohol on us; this worried me so we drank Vodka and orange because we believed there was no smell with Vodka. I bet she smelt the cigarette fumes as we hurried in and out picking up the children from her spare bedroom.

Everyone smoked in those days, function rooms were filled with so much smoke the other side of the room was hardly visible. Those who didn't smoke didn't dare complain, they were the dinosaurs of the smoking era and soon found themselves out castes if they complained.

The smoke odor was so bad that next morning we had to hang all our clothes out in the fresh air to rid them of tobacco stench and also scrub our bodies free of the pollution and stench especially our hair, we literally stank of nicotine.

Norm Wilson nominated to become a Councillor for the City of Payneham. We tennis players all supported him. The night he was elected he threw a big thank you party at his home. This was something very special for me, knowing and supporting someone who was elected to such a prominent position. Norm went on to become Mayor of Payneham. We enjoyed many special evenings as Norm and Edna's guests.

The Council's annual formal themed balls were a special favorite with us all. It was a chance to dress in our best formal wear. Some of our friends had young families with limited budgets and couldn't afford new gowns for every ball, but the inventiveness of these friends staggered me.

Jenny was a master at looking a million dollars on a single mother's pension which in those days was minimal, she was a whiz at making and remaking stunning outfits out of nothing, and still is. She knew every Op shop in Adelaide and shopped wisely and expertly. If we ever needed anything special we sent out an SOS to Jenny, she magically produced the goods at a remarkably low price.

One ball I remember we were dressing at Jenny's admiring each other's innovatory gowns. My outfit was a long flared frock and matching long flowing hooded coat with a train, the hood and long flared to the floor bell sleeves I trimmed with fur, all made out of curtain fabric. I had bought the roll of fabric to make curtains for the dining room then didn't like it, when I couldn't sell it I decided I would make this frock and coat and be lavish with the amount of fabric I used, a rare luxury for me I usually made do with the least material possible to save costs.

Jenny had bought a cheap black fluffy bathmat at the newly opened Kmart, she cleverly attached it to a black frock she had worn many times it looked like a new outfit and a million dollars, no-one knew it was held together with many pins staples and blue tack.

Joyce was the problem, she didn't sew, she brought two old frocks along and wanted to wear the top of one and the bottom of the other, it was left to Jenny and I to cut each in half and sew her into the appropriate halves, we did, thinking nothing of it, though we did get the giggles at Jenny observation.

"Here we are! You in your curtains Eunice, you in your two old frocks Joyce and me in a bathmat. Eunice when you get rich... don't ever change."

"Jenny! I could never change, and besides I'll never be rich!"

Me at Blue Moon Ball

The Blue Moon ball allowed my creative skills to run wild. I made a one-piece cat suit with flared legs from blue patterned lurex taffeta with a mass of blue fluffy sequined tulle over throw around my shoulders (see pic). I spent the afternoon at the hairdresser who had become a friend and delighted in creating way out hair styles to match my outfits, she also did my makeup, of course... blue. Getting to the ball was the first hurdle to overcome, the fitted lurex taffeta cat suit didn't have any give in it. I couldn't sit. I didn't mind standing at the ball but I had to get there, so Bill drove our work van and I lay stretched out in the back.

Pink Fantasy was the theme of another ball, I made a long frothy pink tulle creation and was surprised when Jenny said she wouldn't be at this ball she would be 'away' but wouldn't say where. I thought it rather odd.  
Jenny being Jenny soon confided in me.

"I will be in hospital. "I felt so sorry for her.

"Whatever is wrong? Are you alright?"

"Don't you dare tell a soul, but am having a chin job done; I am getting rid of my double chin."  
I thought this a rather dramatic move, I hadn't noticed anything amiss with Jenny. I thought she was a lovely looking lady and her chin was 'Jenny'.

"We'll call into the hospital on our way to the ball and visit you and show you our get-ups."

Bill and I did just that, we visited a heavily bandaged Jenny in a ward with three other heavily bandaged ladies also recovering from 'cosmetic jobs'. As sore and sorry as they were they all appreciated our visit and oooed and rrred at our rather extravagant ball attire, they invited me to join them for lunch when they were healed up and showing off their 'new looks'.

The ball in St Bernards basketball stadium was of course a fairy tale, as usual the stadium was transformed into a fantasy wonderland, the music complimented the setting, these evenings were like no other we'd ever been to, (and haven't been to since.) Many dignitaries were invited; one, Jennifer Cashmore a Member of Parliament said "Eunice, you never fail to amase me."

When Jenny and her ward mates had healed we met for lunch amongst many ooos and rrrs and compliments. They all looked lovely to me but were so picky of their 'jobs'.

"There should have been a tuck here, a tuck there."

"The nipple should be a cm higher."

"This eyebrow is higher than the other" etc. etc.

They were put out that friends didn't notice their 'new look' when they reappeared after weeks of secret isolation. I sat there and listened to these women and decided I would never consider cosmetic surgery.

Penny's brother was getting married; as is custom with Greeks everyone is invited, even us. We felt honored; we had never been to an ethnic wedding. This wedding was different from the standard staid weddings we were accustomed to. As we sat straight and proper in the pews I couldn't believe how everyone (except us and the only other Aussie couple) raced up to the front of the church as the bride entered to get in position around the alter to be as near as possible to the bridal couple. I was even more aghast when the poor bridal couple was pelted with rice and large sugared almonds amidst much gaiety as they walked unprotected around the altar. Such goings on! And in a church!

There were more surprises at the reception, the abundance of food the likes of which I had never seen; the dancing where everyone just got up and danced with no formal partnering; and the bridal couple having money pinned to their clothes were just a few.

We enjoyed the company of the other Aussie couple Rhonda and Ralph (Rhonda worked with the groom) who were as amased as we were at the differences in wedding cultures. We four really enjoyed the freedom and frivolity of this wedding reception, we were invited to join in the Greek dances, in fact I think Rhonda and I were hot favourites with the men, we weren't left sitting for a minute, we both relished the attention.

At the end of the evening Rhonda and I decided we'd like to get together again, neither of us had a pen. I said "Look up the 'oads of 'enry Street 'ectorville in the phone book, you can't possibly forget that."

Sure enough a few days later I answered the phone...

"Is that the oads of 'enry Street 'ectorville?"

"Yes!"

And so a friendship was formed.

Rhonda and Ralph owned a beach shack at Pt Broughton often inviting us to stay for the weekend. These weekends were very special, so relaxing and enjoyable. Bill and I slept in the second bedroom in twin beds and the kids slept in the large, enclosed verandah room across the back of the shack. I had the best sleeps at this shack. Bill did too; he maintained it was because we had separate beds. I didn't want to believe that.

We played games and swam during the day, went to the local pub for dinner and dancing on Saturday nights where our kids played with all the local kids as they do in country towns.

Some nights Ralph and Bill went 'dubbing' (fishing by spotlight) in Ralph's boat, a spotlight shone into the water attracted unsuspecting gar fish which were quickly plucked from the waters in a dab net. We enjoyed many feeds of freshly caught gar fish, though small they are the sweetest fish I have ever tasted.

We enjoyed our weekends at Pt Broughton. We appreciated so much the friendship and hospitality of Rhonda and Ralph as did our social tennis friends. We all enjoyed each other's company attending many social events.

I was becoming more confident and daring. I was really enjoying myself, probably acting a bit risqué especially after functions when happily stimulated with alcohol. We always partied on at someone's home having travelled there ...not in our husband's car, we girls invariably hopped in the car with some-one else's husband, no hanky-panky, just for fun and because we could. Well there was no hanky panky with me... well only a little bit of kissing, and I assumed there was no more than that with any of the other couples.

Bill never questioned me over what I did while driving with some-one else's husband, then I never questioned him either. I knew if he was happy and being made a fuss of it gave me the go ahead to enjoy myself, which I usually did, but unless he was also enjoying himself I would cop it big time on our way home.

Many times I forgot myself and was happily dancing and chatting away, if he had been sitting alone watching me, out of the blue on the way home he accused me of "having it off with" this one or that one, stuff that hadn't even entered my mind though I must say his continual accusations were beginning to plant the thought in my subconscious.

"If you are going to accuse me of what I didn't do I may as well do it, you penalise me for it anyway." I dared say to him.

I learned to set him up with other wives so I could relax and enjoy myself, they didn't mind, they were happy to have my approval. When I say "setting up" I mean dancing and talking, even though we were living in the 'Swinging Sixties' era I had no notion of what 'swinging' really implied. I thought 'swinging' was having fun swinging around the dance floor.

I was now enjoying the 'Swinging Sixties'. During 'the sixties' I was snowed under with marriage and babies, so now in the seventies I was making up for lost time. I was proud of being part of this fun era, I 'swung' around the dance floor with as many guys as I could at every opportunity.  
_Not until much later did I learn the true implications of 'swinging'.  
For those of you as ignorant as I was 'swinging' means sharing partners and not just on the dance floor, but fully sharing... intimately... in groups._

There were no 'drink driving' laws enforced in those days. Each couple drove their car to the functions and each stupidly drove home. Many a time I drove when I clearly shouldn't have, everyone did.

I mistakenly believed I was a better driver when intoxicated because I concentrated far more than usual, I know I didn't drive my usual flat out pace I drove very cautiously. The morning after, upon wakening the car was usually parked so askew I shuddered at the thought. Thankfully I never had an accident when influenced by alcohol, there that proves I did drive better when under the influence!!!?

I was gaining more confidence in myself I was beginning to like myself. BUT my confidence got me into so much strife with Bill. The bashings and put me downs reminded me of my station. "Why am I so stupid as to forget what my status is? I must be a good wife. I must put Bill first and foremost in my life. I must always be demure and submissive. Why can't I be a nice gentle caring person?"

"Why am I such a failure?"

The teased bouffant hair styles in the sixties progressed into large bouffant elaborate coiffures in the seventies. This style required lengthy hairdresser appointments with much teasing and hair spray. A good hair set lasted a week if you were careful how you slept on it. Satin pillowcases were recommended. Beehive styles were popular; these styles resembled a beehive and easily lasted a week. The head became very itchy after a week; it was so good to eventually wash and massage the head. It was a difficult painful task brushing out these elaborately teased and lacquered hair styles.

"Pride knoweth no pain."

I went to the hairdresser every Saturday had my hair set and lacquered in a becoming style which with careful sleeping on a satin pillow lasted nearly a week. I still dyed my mousey hair auburn; time for a change.  
I went blonde, very blonde.  
Bill went ape.

"You go back to that hairdresser and tell her if she doesn't get rid of that blonde I'll divorce you, and I won't be joking."  
Dutifully I returned to the hairdresser who put a light brown rinse through and assured me it would wash out "by then your husband will be accustomed to you being blonde."

She was right.

How true is the saying "Blondes have more fun?"

Almost instantly I realised guys were noticing me, guys I had never met, guys unknown to me were giving me the eye, especially when I was driving the Holden Kingswood which I was none too gentle with. I couldn't believe I could attract so much attention. I was totally innocent of possible implications. I was flattered. I loved it. I never believed nice looking guys would notice plain old ugly me?"

I learned not tell Bill each time I was whistled at, not that he abused me each time, his abuse was spasmodic he seemed to explode after a few weeks of buildup, taking me by surprise luckily not in front of the children. I would have been mortified if they had witnessed these bashings. I declared to myself I would try and change my ways and be a good wife. I did try... very hard.

It was during the seventies I had a slight reprieve from Bill's physical attacks. Clog shoes had become fashionable, solid wooden or cork soles at least one inch thick were the fashion. One day I was wearing a pair of clogs when he attacked me. I instinctively lashed out with my foot and squarely collected him in the shins, I felt pretty bad about hurting him but he didn't hit me again for a long time, well not while clogs stayed in fashion.

Clogs were often ridiculed as being impractical shoes. I defended clogs by declaring.

"Don't knock clogs they have saved me from many bashings."

People thought I was joking

Barbara and Steve invited us to a party at their home. We met and made more friends. Steve was an excellent organiser; he enjoyed and was willing to take over the social organising of our groups which was expanding. I loved the social interaction with other people, mainly males I must admit.

Steve organised some ripper parties usually with a theme. We had a 'Tramps' party at Joan and Arthur's. Everyone made a huge effort to dress appropriately. Sedate Colleen dressed as a cleaning lady in her tatty clothes with mop and bucket. Prim Pam came dressed in an old nighty and hair rollers with a face pack on. Gentle Joan dressed as a French lady tramp with a red striped fitted top and red beret. Barbara and I had the same idea we both dressed as low class whores in micro miniskirts, holey fishnet stockings, ghastly wigs, plastic beads and overdone makeup.

"Great minds think alike."

It was a great fun night, as were all our parties.

Barbara and me at Tramps Party

Steve organised parties for each person's birthday, my birthday one year was an Island Night. Steve and Barbara had just returned from a Pacific Island holiday and had brought back grass skirts and lei' s which we all wore as we partied in a huge marquee set up in their yard decorated with fresh green palm fronds. The whole effect was stunning.

"Wherever did you get the palm fronds?" I asked; palm trees were a rarity in Adelaide's climate.

"I saw a palm tree in a front yard which I thought needed neatening up, I suggested it to the owners and they thought the same and told me to 'go for it'."

Steve's ingenuity never failed to amase me.

Barbara was a whiz at cake making; she made everyone's birthday cake. I was surprised when I realised she had never celebrated with a birthday cake herself and was quite upset she had been overlooked, I felt for her. Her next birthday party was at their home. Steve asked us each to bring along a cake, any sort of cake, fruit, sponge, chocolate, square, round, double, plain, decorated.

"Just don't rock up without a cake."

I thought this a rather weird request. I was sure Barbara would be disappointed. I wanted to make her a lovely special cake, she deserved it.

"No" insisted Steve "just bring along a cake."

As we arrived at the party everyone's cake was secreted away. After supper 'The' birthday cake was presented to Barbara... all the individual cakes were threaded onto a broom handle with lighted candles sticking at random from them. It looked just great, a broom handle with a weird assortment of about twenty cakes of different shapes and sizes threaded on it.

Barbara was absolutely delighted. Steve had made amends for all the birthdays she had missed out on. Resourceful Barbara never wasted a single one, what wasn't eaten that night she froze. She said she didn't have to make cakes for weeks.

I appreciated Steve's organisation skills, I wanted to repay him. I staged a 'This is your Life' for him. An added bonus for celebration was Norwood had won the grand final of the South Australian National Football League that day. Most of us were Norwood supporters, too bad for those who weren't. This was another good fun night, we sported the red and blue colors of Norwood and celebrated not only Steve's surprise TIYL but Norwood' premiership.

When Steve turned 40 he planned a big party including all his relatives young and old, he warned me we had to be ultra-discreet, he didn't want us doing anything that may upset his aged relatives.

He was holding this party in the nearby scout hall. My mind went into prank mode. I knew this hall, it had large double doors with a large entrance. I immediately 'saw' a huge birthday cake fitting through the doors.

I set about planning it. From the local white goods shop I collected cartons of suitable sizes, one about six foot square and the other three foot square which I placed on top of each other to create a two tier effect, painted it all white, and decorated it with colored crepe paper shaped to depict icing art. Of course it had to have 40 candles. I used large ordinary household candles which easily slotted into holes in the cardboard.

I pondered over the presentation of this cake; I could see it being wheeled into the hall BUT HOW?

Fred Bray loaned me a low flat trolley on wheels with a towing handle. Perfect. Steve and Barbara's daughters Sharon and Susan could pull it into the hall. Who could I convince into 'popping' out of the cake?

Wally!

Wally, a good mate of Steve's was a tall, large man, seldom without a beer in his hand with a typically Aussie beer belly.

Wally would be ideal! But could I convince him into participating in this prank?

Wally to my surprise was not only willing but excited to be part of the stunt.

Dare I ask him if he would dress as a fairy?

I dared.

He again happily accepted, with one condition, he could take a bottle of beer in the cake with him.

No worries.

The night of the party just before 'the cake' presentation Wally, Bill and I went to our home where everything was in readiness. I dressed Wally in the pink tulle tutu and boob tube I had made him (that was a weird experience making a fairy costume for an eighteen stone hairy man), donned a wig and settled him in the cake already in our trailer along with the promised beer, a long neck (no stubbies or cans then).

Mum looking after our kids watched the whole procedure with disapproving looks, I felt a bit bad about that. I hoped it wouldn't offend Steve's elderly rellies.

Too late: we were on our way.

Sharon and Susan towed the 'cake' into the hall to an enthusiastic rendition of Happy Birthday.

All the candles were blazing with Wally crouched inside waiting for the cue to JUMP OUT.

The cue was when Steve was asked to 'cut the cake'... with a cross cut saw.

I didn't want any nasty accidents.

This prank had to be carefully choreographed, but first Steve had to blow out the candles which proved quite a feat.

When the candles were all safely extinguished I handed the 'knife' (crosscut saw) to Steve

"Cut the Cake."

At this cue Wally smashed his way out from the center of the cake resplendent in his fairy costume holding a long neck beer aloft as if a wand "Surprise! Surprise!"

Sure was a surprise, especially for Steve. The oldies just loved it; the young ones just loved it.

Wally was a huge hit.

I was relieved it went off without a hitch. It gave me great pleasure to scheme and execute the surprise. Thank you Steve for hiring a hall which fired my imagination!

Wally; a good sport / Steve's cake; slightly windblown

I relished in the comradeship of our friends, we had great respect for each other I know I did for each and every one of them.  
Jenny said "Eunice! You are the most Christian person I know."

"Jenny! Don't insult me."

I was horrified she considered me 'Christian like'.

"Well, I'm sorry but you are."

Barbara said "You are what Christians should be like Eunice."

"Thanks Barbara I will accept that as a compliment."

I had no idea my friends perceived me so. I do know that I treated others as I like to be treated.

"Do unto others as you would have others do unto you." One of mum's regular quotes must have sunk in.

Lifestyles during this era were changing dramatically. The 'Hippy' influence was a revelation and slowly becoming more popular. I can now see why, but at the time I, as did our friends, looked down our noses at the seemingly uncivilised way these folks lived, an alternative lifestyle, a life of freedom wearing loose light bright clothes, even the men; living in simple makeshift homes in communities where resources were shared, including partners.

'Free Love' was their slogan.

I thought the 'hippies' looked like sorrowful poor waifs.

I couldn't imagine what 'Free Love' constituted... until... a huge two-page feature article appeared in the Sunday Mail about 'swinger groups' in and around Adelaide.

The Swinging Sixties was now in full swing, literally, and still growing in popularity in the seventies.

This article made me fully aware of the full implications of 'swinging' I just couldn't believe what I was reading, nor could I imagine it, it implied now in the 'seventies' 'swinging' was a popular pass time. Couples (supposedly married ) met at a destination usually one of the couple's homes and changed partners for a session of love making (actually just sex) for the night, or interchanged in an orgy style from partner to partner. My mind boggled, but excited me at the same time.

"What would it be like to be with another man?"

# Chapter 15

## The Bubble Bursts

Mum and dad had settled into a city lifestyle though dad had to be busy at all times. He couldn't sit down and relax, he wasn't a reader and seldom watched television, so he spent many hours doing maintenance and general cleaning at the church.

They bought a rundown property directly opposite their home which they planned to restore, renovate and sell, a project aimed at keeping them occupied and hopefully sell at a profit.

We were coasting along comfortably, we not only had Bill's wages we had income from three flats, the house next to the flats and the old Villa at Norwood, our outgoings the first mortgage on Hectorville, the temporary finance interest only loan on Norwood, and the nominal amount we paid mum and dad at the end of each month.

Bill begrudged the moneys we paid mum and dad, he surprised me by insinuating Roger had the original farm and would also finish up owning Murt's farm which he insisted should rightfully be mine and, Angie as Roger's wife would inherit what should be mine. I ignored his insinuations I thought he was way out of line. I thought mum and dad had helped us way more than I ever expected, I felt duty bound to pay them back though I had no concept of when that could possibly be.

Bill didn't give up, he continually suggested to me I was being cheated out of my inheritance; he insisted we shouldn't pay mum and dad back any more money.

I was horrified at the thought. I couldn't believe his thinking. I felt duty bound to attempt to repay something after all they had done for us.

Our happy marriage was wavering, we didn't agree on the subject of my parents. Bill didn't think we should pretend we didn't smoke or drink alcohol. I knew they would never have helped us if they knew we submitted to the sin of alcohol and tobacco, though at the time of their generosity we didn't partake. I felt a fraud. I felt we were cheating on my parents. I knew how they thought, I wanted to please them.

Bill had said many times "If a married couple appear happy and don't argue, one of them is not happy."

I thought this was rather a strange thing to say, but I never thought about it too much. I was too busy coping with my everyday chores managing our rental properties taxi-ing kids around and sewing all of which I enjoyed doing. Bill's continuous insinuations were upsetting me I was under stress, something I had never experienced.

I didn't like the insinuations Bill constantly nagged me about. I wanted our happy union back with not a care in the world. We were very fortunate to have what we had; I was so grateful and very content with our situation. Why couldn't Bill be grateful and content as well.

We both knew we didn't want any more children. Bill wasn't comfortable with having a vasectomy. I knew that if I ever lost Bill and all my children I would never want to start a family again. I had done it once and ever so glad I did, but never again. The Dalcon Shield, my birth control over the previous three year was causing huge problems in some woman and at times caused us both pain and always the inconvenience of using a cream for double protection. I decided I had had enough of all that 'carry on'.

I wanted my tubes cut and tied. Doctor finally agreed, he referred me to a specialist. Tubal Ligation had just become available I was able to have the procedure done by this method because "You don't have much excess fat which we find hard to work through."

I was in hospital two nights, one before the op and one after. I woke up after the anesthetic disgusted because I only had two bandaide spots to show for my operation.

I never once had any discomfort though it took me a full week to recover from the anesthetic.

The night of the op Bill and the children came in to see me. Mark proudly bought in a piece of jam tart he had made. I was surprised, I didn't know he even knew how to light the oven, but it seems he couldn't wait for me to be safely out of the house to have the kitchen to himself. The tart was delicious.

One day I answered the phone "This is Norwood Fire Brigade calling. Do you own 45 George Street Norwood?"

"Yes."

"Well there has been a fire."

Good I thought; it will save us pulling the house down.

"Don't worry" continued the fireman "we have saved the building; we were passing by and saw smoke and put it out before too much damage occurred."

Damn! I thought. Why did they bother?

"We'd better go and have a look inside and see what damage has occurred". I said to Bill.

This was the first time we had been inside this building. We got rather a surprise, there was minimal fire damage and though it was run down we saw huge potential for the solid well-preserved building.

There were four large rooms upstairs and four downstairs, each floor had a large hallway with a bathroom and laundry addition attached to the rear of each level. There were no kitchens it seemed the rooms were all bedrooms.

Bill noted that each of the eight-bedroom doors had small holes in them.

"Peep holes" he said.

"Why would you cut peep holes in perfectly good doors?" I innocently asked.  
Bill also noted there were strange things hanging on the walls, like whips and other leather apparatus. I didn't realise the significance of these findings.  
I thought they were stupid to have candles burning near opened windows with curtains blowing across the candles which started the fire.

We never ever knew who the actual Lessee was there seemed to be many people coming and going but the nominal rent was always deposited in our bank so who the Lessee was never concerned us.

Not long after the fire a Yugoslavian gent Boryz Hregory Zaccariv approached us wanting to lease this property, he wanted to renovate upstairs transforming it into an Art Gallery and downstairs to be used as his workshop, he was a picture framer. Boryz offered us a good deal on the lease and would be responsible for all the renovations. We only wanted the block for its position, so we didn't really care what happened to the building, we felt lucky to have this generous offer coming out of the blue for a property we purchased only for land value. We gave notice to the original tenants who were looking to move anyway since the fire.

Boryz renovated upstairs, mostly by just painting it all white. I remember mum saying "Paint covers up a lot of sins."

How true that is.

We were invited to the grand opening of 'Gallery 45'.  
We couldn't believe the transformation. Eight bedrooms and been cleared of all the goods chattels and junk. Four rooms upstairs were bright sparkling show rooms all painted white with pictures hanging proudly from picture rails around each room. We felt proud and privileged to have been invited and very proud to be the owners of the property.

Gallery 45 prospered. Boryz was not only a good businessman he was a talented craftsman.

Bill often commented on woodcarving becoming a dying art, he didn't know of any other person who carved wood as dimensional or as detailed as he did. I suggested he teach woodcarving to ensure the art didn't diminish entirely.

I rang technical schools in Adelaide; they showed great interest in teaching woodcarving in the Adults Education Classes.

Bill started teaching in the evening at Marryatville high school once a week; his classes became popular and were well attended accumulating long waiting lists of potential carvers; he was asked to do more classes which he did. Although he had never previously taught he had great patience, the students loved him.

He taught the students, all adult hobbyists to carve his specially designed patterns on wooden cutouts which could be glued as decoration to compliment any plain furniture. He progressed to designing elaborate mirrors, picture frames and wall brackets suitable for the students to carve. He bought a band saw so he could produce wooden kits for the students to carve on; this was a lucrative sideline income.

With Bill teaching at night and working at Angorichina during the day I found myself totally responsible for our rental properties including all maintenance, what I couldn't do didn't get done.

Mark helped on weekends but on schooldays I loaded the lawnmower myself up a ramp of two planks into the back of my invaluable Hillman Husky. I alone redecorated between tenants, a mammoth task but I was happy contributing to the success of our rental properties.

Through meticulous management and fore sight (obviously inherited from mum) the flats were never vacant for more than a day; this was no mean feat and probably to the detriment of the children, but I persevered allowing Bill to teach and design furniture for his students and our home. He was so clever and capable, it was a waste him doing such mundane chores that I was able to do.

Bill desperately wanted to retire from making furniture for a living, he was working on enough unearned rental income so he could resign from Angorichina Workshops. He was happily settled into teaching and revered by his students, he enjoyed the accolades they bestowed on him, it added greatly to our income. I was pleased I had organised for him to pass on his unique carving talents.

Bill too often reminded me of my 'unfortunate situation' he was adamant I was being cheated out of my rightful inheritance, he was adamant we shouldn't have to pay mum and dad any more money. He insisted Angie was enjoying what was rightfully mine, my heritage and my home. The money we paid back he insinuated would go to Roger and Angie when Roger was sure to be getting the two farms. Why should we pay back any more money to my parents for Roger and Angie to inherit?

"The son always inherits the farm." I told him.

I was happy with what we had been given and happy to try and pay it back.

Bill insisted there should be no distinction between male and female they should be treated equally and inherit equally therefore we should get a farm each. I thought we had been treated with great generosity. I was more than happy. I wasn't comfortable with Bill's insinuations and attitude.

Bill wasn't happy, for many weeks he repeatedly told me "You are being cheated of your inheritance."

"Angie will get what is rightfully yours."

"It's not fair on you to miss out on your rightful inheritance"

"One of those farms is rightfully yours."

"You should tell your parents now before it's too late."

Bill continued niggling me... until... finally he had me convinced.

I had come to believe what he had been telling me for so long!

I was appalled at the situation we were in, having to pay back money which we rightfully shouldn't be paying back.

I should have one of the farms.

Mum had told me many years ago she didn't want any fights between Roger and I, we were to get half each. Well I'd sure as hell remind her of it. I was in quite an agitated state.

"OK!" I said "We'll go around and tell mum and dad."

I was furious and convinced my parents weren't treating my brother and me fairly.

Without further ado just after tea Bill drove us to mum and dad's, I stormed in and without any niceties or preamble I ranted and raved in a fury I didn't know I was capable of, so much so that my parents were later heard to say "She must have been drunk she was acting so abnormal."

I wasn't drunk. I hadn't had a drink. We only ever drank at social functions never at home without company.

I continued my tirade of uncalled for abuse at my parents who were in total shock and rendered speechless. Bill was there beside me offering me silent moral support, he never said anything, he didn't have to I was in a frenzy shouting it all out. I told them I never wanted to see them again.

Of course nothing was resolved that night. We went home; I was spent and totally exhausted. Bill supported everything I said.

The shit had literally hit the fan. Roger and Angie came to Adelaide; we had a round table discussion, resolving nothing except bad feelings all round. Angie naturally supported Roger very verbally that they needed the second farm to survive, they were especially adamant that the son inherits not the daughter. Daughters were obviously very inferior to sons in their eyes. It was a nasty confrontation' I was told in no uncertain terms that I was not to expect a farm. Dad always the peacekeeper told us we needn't pay back any more money. I thought that was very generous of him.

Bill intent on pursuing the issue even went to our local Methodist Reverend expecting him to "talk some sense into your parents."

The Reverend wasn't one bit sympathetic to Bill in fact he sided wholeheartedly with mum and dad telling Bill it was the responsibility of the husband to support his wife.

Bill was disgusted with the Reverend's attitude, we changed churches, it wasn't possible to attend a church where the Reverend didn't see things fairly, besides we couldn't possibly attend the same church as mum and dad after what had gone between us. We each put public notices in the local newspapers stating... I can't remember, and don't want to pursue writing about this episode of my life any more.

We didn't have anything to do with mum or dad for many weeks, it was a really awful time; we were also estranged from Roger and Angie. We got no support from any of my relatives in fact quite the contrary. I thought they didn't fully understand our situation.

Our lives continued without any contact with my family. I was in a strange state of mind but didn't have time to dwell on it, I was too busy with my everyday life, but to my surprise Bill appeared to be quite calm and comfortable with the situation we found ourselves in.

The children were asking why they hadn't seen nanna and grandpa. We now didn't have our convenient regular babysitters. I was distraught, but Bill's positive attitude over the situation provided some comfort to me. I was sure I had done the right thing.

One day a few months after my tirade I returned home to find a bottle of vitamin pills on our doorstep with a note from mum. She heard I wasn't feeling too good and thought some vitamins may help. I rang and thanked her and slowly we began to interact again though in a very strained way.

There was no interaction between Roger, Angie and us in fact this rift brought Roger and Angie closer to mum and dad, suddenly Roger and Angie could do no wrong. They were proving to be successful farmers attending church every week thus supporting the church coffers. Angie wrote to mum and dad each week; mum was quick to rave to me about how wonderful and capable Angie was and of their achievements and successes with the farm. I became jealous of Angie. I absolutely hated the jealousy I felt towards her, but as much as I tried I couldn't control my feelings especially each time mum sang her praises to me which seemed to ignite the jealousy I was trying to control.

Jealousy is such a wasted emotion. I didn't want to have these feelings. I hated feeling like this. I was so concerned over my jealousy I went to doctor for advice; he was also mum and dad's doctor. Roger and Angie had the occasional consultation with him so doctor knew our family. He didn't seem to think I had a problem; he knew I was normally a levelheaded practical person who was capable of most things.

'I have news for you Doc. This situation has landed me in a rough place, a place alien to anything I have ever experienced'.

I asked doctor during a later visit if I should see a psychiatrist to help me sort out my feelings towards my family, especially my parents. I didn't like the way I felt toward them I felt I needed help to understand my mixed emotions toward them.

"You don't need to see a psychiatrist. If anyone should, it should be your parents."

I was staggered by his response. It didn't help my cause. I was so troubled by my unnatural and unusual (for me) feelings.

I remembered Liz admitting to me one day as we were discussing the stress I was under that she always had a drink of brandy and dry while preparing the dinner each night. I was quite surprised, but respected her as an upstanding citizen.

"It relaxes me and gets me through the evening." she matter-of-factly said.

I thought I would try it. It worked. An alcoholic drink while preparing the evening meal had such a calming effect on me. Soon Bill was joining me with a drink. I felt pretty guilty having a drink each night, but justified it by remembering mum and dad religiously having their 'tonic' each night. I had recently discovered all 'tonics' were alcohol based, no wonder mum and dad liked their tipple of tonic if it made them feel like I felt after an alcoholic drink.

Mum never let me read the weekly letters Angie wrote to her but she often read out selected paragraphs. One day as she excitedly prepared to read an excerpt from Angie's letter I wondered what was to come, she obviously had something of a surprise in store for me.

She did.

"Angie and Roger are blessed to be expecting twins."

Mum was concerned as to how they would manage; Angie wouldn't be able to help Roger on the farm with two babies to look after. No consideration given to me for having three pregnancies and three babies in less than three years all the while establishing and working for our future comforts. I knew mum thought it very slack of us to have three babies so quickly. Twins was acceptable it was a special act of God.

The twins were due just a year after Roger and Angie were married near Angie's 21st birthday.

My jealousy raged, as much as I hated it I couldn't help feeling the way I did. I pondered over the different scenarios. Twin boys: who gets the farm? Twin girls: girls don't inherit farms. A boy and a girl: that would be the most interesting case scenario. Would they discard the girl in favor of the boy?

There were still no communications between Roger, Angie and us, though mum proudly kept me informed of the progress of the pregnancy. The jealousy ate into me I felt it made me not a very nice person. I worked tirelessly to make our home a showpiece I would show them by the opulence in our home that we could appear as successful as them. I knew farm houses were made for convenience not show. My idea of success was showy opulence. I was demented with jealousy.

Angie breezed through her pregnancy with ease as she does with everything she encounters until she was due to give birth. Medical complications at Ceduna can be fatal, Angie suffered a major complication. Mum rang to warn me of the possibility of her being flown to Adelaide by emergency air ambulance. Fortunately this wasn't necessary,

9th April 1970 at Ceduna hospital two healthy babies a son and a daughter Shaun and Jodie were brought safely into this world. Angie was also doing well. We were all so relieved. Mum was concerned as to how they could possibly manage. I wondered if Jodie would be classed as the inferior twin being a daughter.

I was still stressed over my family rift though I never considered it was anyone's fault but theirs. Bill could foresee it all, he was so knowledgeable, even the Methodist Reverends didn't understand our plight; Bill was disgusted with them and their points of view. I still felt my parents had been so generous in giving us what they had. I was confused and stressed. I didn't like the emotions I was feeling but I had to suck it up and get on with my duties.

Mum and dad were totally engrossed in the renovation project of their recent house acquisition, the style and décor was so unprofessional, the patterns mum painted on all the walls with a moulded roller were not only ugly and put on without consideration, it looked as if children had been scrawling at random; any advice we gave them was ignored. We couldn't believe such a bad renovation job could be achieved. Soon it would be ready for sale. I couldn't imagine anyone wanting to buy it. Though a lot of money and work had gone into it we thought it hadn't added any value to the property, more likely devalued it.

Bill was curious as to what would happen to this property and where the profits would go. It didn't sell for a long time. Eventually a young married couple, he an apprentice to his father a local plumber bought it, I assume at a give a way price encouraged by mum and dad who privately financed them. I never knew what interest they paid, but they regularly paid the agreed sum each month until they paid it off. This young couple became good friends of my parents and Roger and Angie and appreciated the generous financial start they were offered which set them on their path to running a successful business, and eventually renovating the home to a very attractive mansion.

We changed churches and now attended the modest Methodist church on Montacute Road at Campbelltown. The Reverend and congregation of this church to our knowledge knew nothing of our family rift or the meetings Bill had with other Reverends. It was quite a chore dressing in our Sunday best each week, especially getting three children organised. I never felt right in this church it seemed to be run by one family. The wife was the organist/choir leader, her husband their daughters and partners formed the choir, which was awful, they sang as loud as they could with no clarity light or shade. No way would I be happy to sing in that choir it was even hard to listen to.

Sunday school was held in the hall at the rear of the church during the sermon, the husband and daughters from the choir were the Sunday school teachers. I wondered how the children would like it at this new Sunday school.

I wasn't enjoying attending this church one little bit. It wasn't too many months after we started attending this church that Mark out of the blue announced "I'm not going to Sunday school anymore!"

"Okay!"

That suited me just fine. We stopped going to church from that day on. I knew my parents would be bitterly disappointed, but I didn't care. I was becoming so disillusioned by church it really did nothing for me, except the opportunity to show off our well-dressed happy family.

I have never missed church or any church activities one little bit, it really was just a big farce for me.

It was Anzac Day 1971. We were invited to a party at friends of tenants to commemorate Anzac. They were a young and carefree group, though financially struggling they lived a far more relaxed carefree lifestyle than we were accustomed to; I always felt out of place at their parties though honored to be invited I felt we were old fashioned and staid.

On this Anzac Day arriving home to our utter dismay and bitter disappointment our prized ten foot high birch tree was lying flat on the ground its roots defiantly splayed in space. We had nurtured this tree from a seedling, it was not only the scenic focal point of our front yard but provided summer shade to Leanne's west facing windows and our north facing lounge wall of windows. We felt we had lost part of the family; we were devastated. I grieved the loss of this treasured tree. I felt it was a bad omen.

Three days later, on the afternoon of April 27th. I receive a phone call from a member of Newstead Methodist church (mum and dad's church). I wondered why ever they were ringing me, I felt I was very much out of favor with the members of this church, mum and dad were far more valued members than us especially since our falling out which I'm sure the church members would have heard about.

"Eunice! We are trying to contact your mum. We have some bad news."

"What?"

"We found your dad dead in his car in the street outside the church."

"Whhhaaatt. Hooww?"  
Dad had been, as he often did, working in and cleaning up the church yard. He must have had an attack of pain and went to rest in the car: where he died peacefully.

Where was mum?  
She was visiting her beloved best friend and sister, Agnes who was dying of cancer in the Royal Adelaide Hospital.

How do I get this sad news to her? I couldn't go anywhere the kids were due home from school and kindergarten I couldn't let them come home to an empty house.

I rang Bill at work, he drove to the RAH and found mum at Aunty Agnes's bedside. Mum said she knew immediately she saw Bill that dad had passed.  
The nursing staff were very kind, they ushered mum and Bill into a private room. Mum took the news stoically she was self-controlled continually saying "I'm glad for Cliff and sorry for myself."

Our neighbor Jeanette offered to look after the children after school, I drove to mum's home where Bill had arrived with her, she wanted to know all the ins and out of the circumstances of dad's passing, and "Where is he now?"

As luck would have it our family doctor was driving past and recognised dad's car and was able to sign the death certificate which alleviated much red tape and legal rigmarole, an ambulance was called and dad was taken directly to the Funeral Parlour.

We rang Roger. "We're coming over. Don't do anything till we get there."

Their twins had just turned one; the locals rallied and took over their care and the farm duties. Bill went home to look after our children.

I stayed with mum, we sat up (well I was laying on the lounge) and talked all night relating memories of dad. I was in a state of shock, mum seemed to be comforting me.

Roger and Angie arrived; things were still very tense between us. The funeral had to be arranged, as soon as possible so Roger and Angie could get back to the farm and their baby twins.

This was the first funeral I had been closely associated with. I dreaded it. Chas Berry and staff made the arrangements flow easily with great compassion. Choosing the coffin was a chore I never expected to have to do. Mum wanted to see dad, to say her final goodbyes. We all went to the funeral parlour where dad was peacefully lying in a lovely satin lined polished wooden coffin. He looked the best I had ever seen him look; he was serene with not a wrinkle on his face he looked content. I knew he was happy now.

The funeral was one big blur for me. I felt numb through it all. The children stayed with Jeanette. I could not have coped with them on this day. Our family sat in the front pew of Newstead Church it was a cold wet day. I felt everyone was looking at me blaming me for dad's sudden death. I snuggled up in my new lapin fur coat and hat which seemed to ease the angst I was suffering.

Mum, Roger, Angie, Bill and I drove in procession to Centennial Park cemetery in the mourning limousine behind the hearse followed by many family and friends in their cars. We gathered around the grave, row twenty one plot one that mum and dad had bought a few years previous. It poured with rain, so much so that mum wouldn't look into the grave, she was sure dad would be lowered into a well of water.

All dad's life he had prayed for rain, his prayers were surely answered on this his final day above the earth.

We made the morbidly dreadful journey back to mum's home where an afternoon tea had been prepared, providing the opportunity for all to comfort mum. Bill and I went home as soon as we acceptably could.

I was still in a state of stoic shock and functioning by rote. I learned that dad had been living with severe angina pains for a few years, maybe mum had braced herself for his sudden death, we knew he desperately wanted to die peacefully, he prayed every night he wouldn't suffer a long lingering death from cancer like his brother and father. His prayers had been answered.

Breaking the news to our kids Mark nearly seven, Le-Anne just five and Shane nearly four was heartbreaking

"Grandpa has died and gone to heaven. We won't ever see him again."  
Mark wasn't a bit concerned "I'll get into a helicopter and fly up to see him."

Although I didn't realise or understand grief at the time I suffered hugely. I blamed myself, I blamed everyone, I was angry, I was sad, I was remorseful, I was jealous, I was relieved, I felt guilt, but mostly I felt lonely.

Mum was showered with beautiful flowers and sincere condolences, as she should have been, but I was ignored. My dad had died. I grieved in silence. I received one sole card of sympathy from Glenda a school friend from Penong, whose father had recently died, she understood. Glenda's condolences brought me to tears, I cried and cried, sobbed and sobbed, it was the first time I had cried through this terrible nightmare. Bill seemed serine with no compassion.

For many years after dad's passing I felt his presence; even more so than when he was alive. I was so very conscious of his presence if, no, not if, when... I did something I knew he wouldn't approve of, like drinking alcohol. Though we weren't regular drinkers we enjoyed drinking when out with friends socially, and with our social life expanding we seemed to be consuming alcohol more often. I especially felt his disapproval when enjoying a tipple while preparing dinner which seemed a requirement more often.

Dad's will was given to us to read. I hadn't considered the possibility or consequences of a will. I assumed everything would be left to mum. It was, except Roger had to pay me $1,500 on the anniversary of dad's death for the next ten years, this provision had been altered after our family argument from $3,000 for five years due to "tough times on the farm" mum said.

I was surprised to be granted this inheritance and thought it more than fair, it was approximately the value of the farm Bill said should be mine. I hoped it would get Bill off my back I didn't want any more unnecessary pressure or unpleasantness.

Last photo taken of dad and mum' 1970

Bill had asked me a few times to make an appointment with doctor he was concerned about a tiny black spot on his tummy. I thought he was being overly fussy and anxious so I didn't make an appointment until just after dad's funeral. Winter was upon us and it was time for flu inoculations, he could show doctor this black spot while he was having his flu shot. Doctor cut the spot out, problem solved the spot wasn't there for him to worry about.

Two days later a phone call from doctor.

"The black spot sample has returned from pathology, it's malignant, a melanoma."

What is a melanoma? No-one had heard of melanomas in 1971. Doctor told us melanomas were caused from the sun, they started from the outside and slowly made their way into the body and glands, but if detected early the malignant areas could all be successfully removed before the malignancy of the melanoma took over.

"You are lucky it's in the very early stages but we have to take more tissue away to ensure we remove all malignant cells, you will have to go to hospital and have a little bit more cut out and you'll be a bit sorer for a bit longer." Doctor told Bill explaining he would remove skin from his thigh to graft over the wound on his stomach. Arrangements were made for Bill to be admitted to Wakefield Street Private hospital the following day.

We were both in a state shock. Why Bill? I should be the one with the melanoma, not Bill, I was the one always sun tanning. Bill had very fair skin and usually kept himself covered, though he tried sun tanning during our last summer holidays at the beach and got badly burned which must have triggered the melanoma. How can these horrible things be happening to us?

My way of coping with a traumatic situation was to talk about it, to gather up a support base. I got on the phone and proceeded to do just that. Bills way of coping was to say nothing, when he realised I was telling friends about his melanoma he strongly reprimanded me and threatened me if I mention it to anyone else.

"It is my body and my melanoma; I don't want people to know about it. I don't want people wondering when I am going to die. I have a right to keep this to myself."

I was secretly relieved I already established a small support base from those I had already told, they would surely spread the word without Bill knowing. As each one rang to see how he was I had to warn them of his wishes, and ask them not to say anything in his presence.

This was the first time I had conscientiously deceived Bill. No way could I have coped without someone to discuss our predicament with and the support from our friends.

Bill had the operation; a large chunk the size of a fist was taken out from the black spot area on his tummy and skin from his thigh grafted to the open wound. He was very sore and sorry for himself. It was imperative he didn't get the stomach wound wet, he had to lay very still to give the graft a chance to adhere, his thigh where the skin for the graft had been peeled from was sorer than his stomach wound; poor darling he was in a very bad way but mostly he worried the cancer would get into his glands and he would die as his mother had died, from cancer of the glands.

"Wait till we get the pathology report then we will know how far the cancer had penetrated." doctor said.

The long awaited pathology report arrived.

"Good news." Doctor declared. "There is no trace of malignancy in any of the extra tissue we took out. You are lucky we got it in its early stage and removed all the malignant cells in the first removal."

I was so thankful this melanoma wasn't on his back; the black spot was so insignificant I am sure I would never have noticed it or suspected it could be life threatening.

I was relieved by the pathology report, but Bill wasn't convinced, he was certain the report was purposely deceiving because they didn't want to reveal to him the severity of the cancer and the prospect of his imminent death. The normal practice in those days was to keep patients from knowing any unpleasant circumstances, ignorance is bliss.

Doctors in those days were revered professionals never to be questioned their word was taken as gospel. If a patient was terminally ill they were never told, they were kept in ignorant bliss, hoping to recover, though usually the next of kin was correctly informed of the patient's diagnosis by the doctors. Bill was convinced we were collaborating and avoiding telling him the truth.

He was in a ward with three other patients he wanted a private ward which they said wasn't available; he was sore, worried and distressed. I talked to doctor about him not believing he was free of the malignancy, that he was sure he was going to die.

"Same as my mum" he often said.

Doctor gave me a copy of the pathology report.

"Here, this should put his mind at rest."

I studied this report, clearly in medical terms it said all tissue taken was free of any malignancy the cancer was removed forever, if he had a melanoma it would be a new one totally unrelated to this one.

To my total dismay Bill didn't believe me, he was adamant we had concocted a false pathology report to show him in order to keep him from knowing he was dying of cancer.

His persistent worry and negative thoughts were dragging me down. I had no idea how to cope with such negativity; he was becoming so depressed so unlike anyone I had ever known. He didn't want visitors; I had to pass the word around. Mum couldn't understand how he could react so, nor could I, we had only ever known positive people.

Bill insisted I make sure the next private ward that became vacant should be his. I pleaded with the staff. Soon he was moved into a lovely large private room not at all resembling a ward it was obviously reserved for VIP patients. I could come and go as I pleased with the children and didn't have to abide by the rigid visiting hours rules, we could be as a family in this lovely room, surely this would buck him up.

It didn't. He had been in hospital three weeks, though his stomach wound was slowly healing it had to be dressed and checked daily, they said the graph was "taking nicely" but still imperative not to let it get wet which meant no showers.

Though I wasn't keen Bill insisted I look at the grafted hole in his tummy. Oh my God! How could they say it was "taking nicely"? It looked ugly and raw with his guts showing through? I felt physically sick. My poor husband, I felt for him so. His thigh was almost healed and not so sore so that was a positive.

Bill worried about his woodcarving students all adults and mostly young housewives, he thought they might leave his classes thinking he would never return to teaching, he was keen to get back to running the classes again, he thought he would be able to attend classes and instruct the students without too much discomfit. Doctor agreed if he did nothing strenuous and was driven to and from the hospital it could be more beneficial to his state of mind than detrimental to his wound.

I organised babysitters and acting on Bill's detailed instructions loaded the car with all his required teaching aids and drove him to and from the hospital for his classes at Marryatville High. This was the magic bullet, soon he was able to drive himself, the car loaded with his teaching aids was left at the hospital. He drove to the school where the students unloaded and loaded it again after class, he relished in doing what he was good at and enjoyed the interaction with these likeminded people who loved the art of woodcarving.

He was improving but dreading going back to work at Angorichina Workshops saying many times "I really don't want to work there anymore. I can't produce my best work under the constant pressure of time limits."

"Well leave." I said.

I knew we had enough income to get by without relying on the basic wage he earned working at Angorichina, especially now our rental properties were producing substantial rents combined with the extra income from the classes, and we didn't have to pay mum and dad at the end of each month, plus the money from Roger as per Dad's will.

"Will you go and tell them?" he asked.

No worries! I went straight there and verbally told the staff at Angorichina Bill wouldn't be returning to work.

I had delivered them Bill's notice of resignation. They were stunned. They assured me if he changed his mind at any time he would always be welcomed back. He never gave Angorichina Workshops another thought.

Finally Bill was allowed home, though he had to be careful not to get his wound wet. He sat in the bath with just a little water and sponged himself, he did this for six months until the wound fully healed, it left a hole in his tummy large enough to put your fist in, he was always conscious of the indent showing through his shirt and insisted I bought him thick shirts that would fall smoothly over the hole thus disguising it.

He was relieved not to have the pressure of going to work each day, he designed and prepared furniture suitable for teaching. There was a waiting list to attend his classes so he started more classes at different schools, soon he was teaching every night Monday to Friday. He became well known and sought after.

I was happy that all was going along smoothly. The children were growing rapidly, becoming more independent and all at school...Whoopee...I was happy to be back to near normal and busy ever with our rental properties, school committees, canteen duties and child taxi service as well as our busy household, any spare time I had I sewed.

I had inadvertently become a time management freak. I had to plan every minute of my time to effectively achieve my basic duties. I was forever scheming how I could efficiently fit everything into each day's curriculum without having any crisis due to lack of detailed planning and timing.

I became a wizard at jangling my time making sure I didn't have to back track, each day was planned in a forward motion taking all in its exacting stride, there was no room for mishap or error. I know my time managing irked Bill, luckily we seldom crossed paths as we did our own 'thing' so he didn't suffer the real brunt of my regime as the kids would have. I knew I wasn't doing the right thing by the children; I should have been more adaptable with my time for them instead of always rushing them. I knew I wasn't being the devoted mother I should have been but I was impelled to 'do what I had to do'.

My main aim for such dramatic time management strategy was to make time for sewing, not only for ourselves, but I sewed for others, there was always a steady demand which provided me with pocket money though inevitably it went into general revenue. I never budgeted, I never had to but then I wasn't a shopaholic, I hated shopping I would sooner make what I wanted rather than spend time shopping for it. I only ever bought what was necessary and we couldn't do without those necessities which were only basic necessities anyway. I could probably have afforded to be more frivolous with money but I only ever bought what we needed. I maintain because of my careful handling of the purse strings and my reluctance to spend frivolously we were able to buy more properties.

I didn't need to sew for financial gain but even though I loved sewing I refused to sew for nothing because I knew I'd find myself inundated with requests, instead I became choosy as to what I sewed for other people. I chose only to sew wedding gowns; beside I could charge much more for a 'wedding frock' totally unjustified really; a wedding gown is no different to any other gown except for the train.

I loved creating 'one only' wedding gowns. I insisted on taking the measurements myself, drafting to my measurements ensured I only ever needed one fitting. Word soon spread, I never advertised, but I got more requests than my spare time allowed. Bill our kids and flats really did come first.

Bill enjoyed teaching. I thought being engrossed in teaching would take his mind off of his melanoma. I knew he was still sure he was going to die, and still believed we were hiding the fact from him, I had given up trying to convince him otherwise. I wasn't prepared to wallow with him in his unnecessary misery. I had to keep 'normal' for the kid's sake which didn't bode well for our marriage. He now accused me of not only being 'not like his mother' but not caring about his imminent painful death. The tension was awful.

I told him I wasn't going to waste energies on worrying over something that didn't exist, his cancer had been completely removed; he was totally free of it. I couldn't comprehend why he took the negative view against all evidence put before him.

I was losing respect for my handsome capable husband. I tried to overlook the tension between us and provide a normal happy environment for the kid's sake. One day I was so fed up with his negative attitude I said "For goodness sake! Keep yourself busy! Carve yourself a fancy coffin and when you realise you are old and haven't used it, you'll have to start earning some money to live on for the rest of your life."

Bill spent the week nights at schools and all the days at home in his workshop designing furniture for students to carve and furniture for our home, he planned to make a lounge, dining and bedroom suite for us which he wanted to make as a legacy for each of our children. I suggested he make the bedroom suite first because we were making do with just the single old wardrobe we'd bought to use in the old house at Kensington; we had no other cupboards or dressing table.

He firstly made a vanity cupboard to replace the inadequate pedestal basin in the bathroom; we installed a second toilet in the bathroom limiting the space so Bill designed and shaped the vanity to fit. the Marble Luster top made to fit resulted in a unique unit. This curved shaped vanity proved a huge challenge for Bill it took him many weeks of painstaking hand work because he never had machines, everything had to be done by hand. He desperately tried to complete this cupboard before he 'died'. I had given up. I had to ignore this negativity or I would not be able to provide a normal family environment for our kids, or maintain our rental properties, or my sanity.

Where had my capable confident husband gone? I had lost respect for the man who was living with us.

Bill teaching every night was stressful on us both. I tried to wait up until he got home but invariably I would fall asleep. Bill wasn't coping very well with the late nights either, by the time he got home and unwound it was usually past midnight, he became tired and even more introverted than usual. I let him sleep in every morning; trying to keep the kids quiet was quite a chore, the house was very noisy with the wooden floor boards seeming to echo loudly even when we crept around on tip toes. Bill's routine became totally different to the rest of our family, his waking hours were midday to midnight. This became his standard routine. I heard him complaining to a friend one day "Our bed never gets made."

I indignantly interrupted "You are always in it when I do the bed rounds each morning. Why don't you make the bed when you get out of it?"

Of course he never did, making beds was the woman's role.

I knew Bill was in a bad state of mind. I didn't know what to do about it. I couldn't believe his negativity. I couldn't comprehend how he could be so negative, when all the proof of him being free from cancer was before him. He often went for a drive. It did occur to me he may do something stupid which he virtually confirmed after one such drive.

"I recklessly drove the car (our XJ6 Jaguar) up O'Halloran Hill as fast as it would go. I held my foot as hard as I could to the floor.

"You could have crashed the car."

'Yes. I could have and I didn't care."

I was always on tender hooks each time he 'went for a drive'.

Luckily I am not a worrier, I don't believe in worrying over something that might happen. I wait until I know what I have to worry about and deal with the situation then. He always arrived home in one piece. He started drinking alcohol each night to 'relax'. I could understand that, I hoped it worked for him, I was happy for him to try anything if it resulted in getting my husband back.

My respect for my husband was waning he was becoming a liability instead of the head of the family. I thought he was a stronger man, I had only ever known strong people this was a huge challenge for me. I learned to become independent and protective of our children desperately wanting them to enjoy their childhood without knowing the stress we were experiencing and the negativity of their father.

I was so worried about Bill's health I convinced him to see doctor. When he arrived home from the doctors he was very cross with me

"Couldn't you see something was wrong with me?"

Well no I hadn't noticed anything physically wrong.

"What is wrong with you?"

"I am having a nervous breakdown. Doctor wants to talk to you."

Doctor asked me if I'd noticed any difference in Bill lately.

"Has he been introverted or quiet?"

"No, no more than usual he is always quiet."

I never noticed any change in him apart from him believing he was dying.

Doctor recommended a Psychiatrist who prescribed Tryptanol an anti-depressant drug which he assured him would make him feel so bad he wouldn't get addicted to it.

Tryptanol for the first two weeks sure made Bill feel bad, it was terrible to witness what this drug did to him, he was like a zombie. I had lost a husband; the kids had lost a father it was awful.

Eventually as he became adjusted to the drug we got our husband and father back; he didn't feel so bad but he was still sure he was going to die of cancer. I was at a loss how to cope. I told him "I am sorry but I just can't afford to go out in sympathy with you, I have to keep going for the children and the business, and anyway you aren't going to die of cancer, the pathology report says so."

But no amount of talking could convince him.

"I think you should see the Psychiatrist too." Bill told me.

I read doctors referral letter to the psychiatrist. I was surprised to find it insinuated my exuberant nature could be the cause of Bill's depression. How can that be so? I had tried and tried to be like his mum. I must try harder to change my ways. I had been trying to become sweet loving and gentle like his mother all our married life. I was a failure, as much as I tried I found myself reverting back to my extroverted, competent, positive, capable self.

"WHY?" "Why can't I be subservient?"

I felt such a failure.

Bill was adamant no-one should know of his breakdown; in those days it was considered a weakness with bad cases admitted to a mental asylum. Bill vehemently threatened me not to let him be admitted. I never thought for a minute he would be eligible especially into Adelaide's Glenside mental asylum where patients seldom came out: nor did doctor but Bill threatened me to secrecy.

It was a difficult period in our lives. I knew nothing about mental illness, no-one did we just had to 'get on' with life which I had no choice but to do in order to keep my family with a modicum of stability.

This psych ascertained Bill's problems could be related to his upbringing as an only child which in those days was most unusual, causing Bill to feel 'different' and lonely with his mother having to work long hours leaving Bill home alone.

Bill went to this psych for many years I often asked if it was necessary to still see him.

"Yes I need the drugs prescription; besides he still needs me."  
I believe that psych got far more from Bill than Bill got from him apart from the script.

I was suspicious of the psych so I with the consent of them both sat in at a consultation. I had planned on telling the psych Bill didn't need to see him anymore but I was very firmly put in my place. I was convinced after meeting him that this strange looking psych was very suspect; never the less Bill continued seeing him.

Bill continued teaching; the drugs seemed to get him through each day and the evening classes, the alcohol he consumed when he got home helped relax him. Though Bill was experienced in furniture making and wood carving he was still learning to be a teacher realising he only had to be one step ahead of the students and not give them too much information at a time, he found adults couldn't comprehend as quickly as children, all his students were adults.

He told me regularly in teaching he had to cater for idiots, I thought it rather harsh because his students weren't idiots; they were well respected successful citizens. BUT! I believe the learning part of the brain disappears if not used, as do all parts of our bodies if left idle for a length of time. Adults who stopped learning when they left school found it hard to readjust to learning later in life. I know I did.

Bill cleverly designed visual learning aids for his students to follow, he carved the furniture components in various stages of completion, this gave the student an exact copy of the three dimensional carvings they hoped to produce. He started with simple but elaborately carved mirror frames progressing to more defined carvings on footstools and many styles of chairs. The students loved carving and became so efficient Bill couldn't produce new designs quick enough even though he spent every spare minute of his time at the drawing board designing then carving a sample template.

"Why can't they leave me alone to work at my own pace?" he often complained when they pestered him to "hurry up".

Bill was happy when designing, producing kits and teaching, I let him be, and with Mark's help I relieved him of all work and maintenance our properties required; allowing him maximum time to establish new designs and kits for the students. These kits were an extra income and sold as quickly as he could produce them. He was kept ridiculously busy and very happy not to have the pressure of our flats, raising the children and especially his old job of producing furniture in limited time for Angorichina Workshops.

Bill worked in total bliss ignorant of happenings around him. I knew I had to protect him from the outside world and all pressures. I did and he was happy when left completely in his own space.

Bill with samples for Students to follow

We bought a secondhand Holden EH panel van to transport the kits and teaching aids, the van was also used for storage and always loaded ready for attending lessons. He was now teaching at three different schools. His lessons were in huge demand. He seemed less stressed and more content teaching and keeping the students happy who revered him and his talents.

I was happy when he was happy. I took over all responsibilities except his woodcarving classes, he even refused to take phone calls. He was relieved to design furniture without having to produce the finished article, a huge load off his shoulders. The students did the time involved work, the hand carving on the furniture which when completed Bill assembled ready for French polishing and upholstering, resulting in a unique valuable piece of furniture for the students.

2020. The lounge in my home

The wife of a prominent Adelaide businessman desperately wanted Bill to make an elaborately carved three seater chaise lounge. She must have used all her charm on him because he agreed. I thought it would be good for him to take on this commission with the added bonus of the exorbitant price he could charge. He worked tirelessly with commitment for months on this masterpiece. The lady regularly checked on his progress, she was delighted.

The lounge was near complete when Bill said "I am not selling this, it's too much work and far too valuable as a one only piece to let go. We will keep it for our children."

"You tell her." I said shuddering at the thought.

He did. She was not happy. She wanted him to name his price. She wanted to fly her helicopter to see Bill to try and convince him to sell her this chaise lounge. Bill stood his ground. "No."

"No! It's not for sale."  
I think this was the first time this lady never got her way; it was not pretty.

Bill also made a grandmother and grandfather chair and a footstool to match this lounge we had it upholstered in heavy cherry red velvet. To this day this suite takes pride of place in my formal lounge room and will eventually belong to our kids.

Bill didn't like so much work going into a one only piece of furniture. He was working on building one prototype and reproducing it in fiber glass from a rubber mold to sell at affordable prices. His first production was a very elaborate mantle mirror. We produced twenty five of these mirrors, a huge extra workload for me preparing the roughly turned out mirrors for the final finish. I spent many tedious hours preparing and meticulously sanding making sure all the residue was removed, this was no mean feat with such intricate detailed carving to work around.

I didn't enjoy doing it but eventually they were ready for the final coating. Some we had gilded in gold leaf, some painted antique ivory and some a wood grain effect transforming them into exquisite works of art which I then had to market. They were expensive and slow selling. Bill installed each mirror, usually over a mantle for which it was designed. The new owners were always very happy with their new purchase it was not only a spectacular piece of art but an enhancement to the room.

We eventually sold all but four of these mirrors which we kept, one for each of our kids and one to be utilized into the bed head of our bedroom suite Bill was making. We stored a gold leaf gilded one, hung a wood look finish one above the fire place adding to the feature wall of our lounge, the last, a gold dusted antique ivory one to match our bedroom suite. It rested on the large chest of drawers Bill made, making a wow factor dressing table, it was not only practical with ample drawers and storage but exquisitely beautiful and unique. The last one he incorporated into the bedhead and side drawers he made for us.

Our bedroom dressing table with the mirror

Our Queen bed incorporating the mirror

We now had a completed luxury unique lounge and bedroom suit. Bill's aim was to also make a dining suit so each of his kids could inherit a room setting of their fathers own design and making. I'm sure this desire to leave a legacy to each of his kids gave him the incentive to stay alive long enough to achieve this dream.

He was planning on making a clay prototype lounge chair which could be mass produced in fiberglass from the original template he was moulding of clay. I couldn't imagine how this could possibly be done, that was Bill's domain. He welded steel rods into a base shape of the chair then worked tirelessly for hours on end preparing the clay and patting it on to the steel base until he achieved the line and shape he was happy with.

This project totally engulfed his thoughts and energies for nine months, he was happy and content while he was fashioning and re fashioning this strange looking chair. He enlisted advice from people he thought could help with manufacturing; those people shook their heads in wonderment at the work and dedication of this project, but offered no practical advice. This project died.

Many years later it was my job to be rid of it, a huge task. It was too heavy to move, it had to be smashed up.

I was happy Bill had engulfed himself in such a challenging project, he seemed happy while he was consumed in it. He was so clever so artistic and talented. I supported him through these projects though I had no idea what the outcome could possibly be, never mind he was engrossed and totally consumed and happiest when left to his own devices.

It seemed I was left out of Bill's life, certainly I felt I had to amuse myself. I felt I was an inadequate wife. I didn't have the patience Bill expected his wife to have. I was not the companion I should have been for him, he sure as hell was no companion for me; just as well I was kept busy and didn't demand more of his attention.

I felt I was losing my libido although Bill on occasions tried to stimulate me, it didn't; it was a turn off, especially when he tried to seduce me at the kitchen sink with dirty dishes and suds up to my elbows. If only he had done the dishes or helped me around the house or helped get the children to bed that would have been more of a stimulant.

Our lovemaking became very spasmodic and I know it was my fault, apart from losing respect for my husband I was tired at the end of the day and had absolutely no energy or inclination to miraculously turn into a whore. When we did make love it was a duty for me because I knew I must never refuse his advances. Fortunately this duty wasn't a tireless one, Bill as usual achieved his release in a few seconds with me faking orgasms in order to convince him he was a good lover; I was becoming quite adept at faking orgasms.

We didn't really have much in common and we seemed more and more to be leading separate lives. Never mind we both enjoyed our social life together with our friends. We did have a good marriage. I must try to be a better wife.

I loved to sing. I missed singing in the church choir. I joined The Hectorville Ladies Choir a local choir that practiced at the musical director's home nearby once a week. This choir was very good, although I was no soloist I could keep a tune and I enjoyed being a member of this choir. We performed at many functions and competitions and decided we deserved a better profile so unanimously agreed to change our name to 'The Belcanto Singers" a more professional title to enhance our standard of singing.

I particularly enjoyed the accolades we received and the camaraderie of the group as well as the singing. I felt refreshed and rejuvenated after a practice session or performance. I discovered singing is so good for the soul. I also discovered it was great therapy for me and looked forward to the weekly practices and regular performances.

# Chapter 16

## The Beach House

Our old house at 26 Corinda Ave Kensington Park next to our flats needed more maintenance than I was capable of. We decided to sell it. We had given up the idea of knocking the building down and replacing it with flats. Burnside Council's stringent bylaws had inadvertently done us a favor by preventing us from proceeding with that 'wild dream'. The property had provided us with a good income and now we would sell it at a handsome profit as the housing market boomed.

We planned to build a beach house on our lovely block at Aldinga; though many folks were interested in buying none were prepared to pay the price. I was excited; we at last were doing something for our own pleasure.

A new concept of home building had come to Adelaide in the form of kit homes. These were timber framed homes not allowed in the city but ideal in the outlying beach side shack areas. The companies were promoting kit homes, we along with many others liked the style and designs but no-one was willing to be the first to purchase and build without seeing a completed home. The agent knew we were keen to own one of these 'kit homes' so put a proposition to us.

"We will deliver and build this home on your block for a minimal cost if you allow us to use it as a show home. AND for each person who looks through and buys we will give you $100 commission."

The deal was done. $100 was a lot of money then.

We chose the design, a two storey two bedroom large open living area home with wall to wall and floor to ceiling windows right across the front opening onto a balcony the width of the shack: or rather house. Downstairs formed the carport and a bricked in laundry. We asked if downstairs could be bricked up to form another room including the laundry, leaving an open carport at one end and the original exterior staircase built inside but opening to the carport. No worries, nothing was too much trouble for this company who wanted to make inroads into a new market.

There was one condition we strictly asked and expected them to abide by.

"No trees were to be removed or damaged during construction."  
This was no mean feat because there were many trees including huge red gums making the long driveway up to the house difficult to maneuver, but not a tree or bough were damaged. We were very impressed by the care, workmanship and the completed house.

We furnished the house mostly with renovated furniture provided by Poppa who was happy to be rid of furniture he didn't use. There was such a wide expanse of windows to make curtains for, costing more than we were prepared to pay so I looked for the cheapest fabric I could find and bought yards and yards of it, bright orange cotton. I made the curtains, as ghastly as it sounds they looked good. We painted and wall papered to compliment or rather detract from the orange curtains and varnished the wooden floors. Poppa's renovated furniture complimented the décor. It was not only beautifully presented but very comfortable.

The company showed prospective buyers through and kept their word paying us the handsome commission for each buyer.

Bill's classes were only held during school terms so every school holidays we spent at our lovely holiday beach house. Many people driving past stopped to admire this new concept of a beach home. I ran down the block to the street inviting those who were interested if they would like a look through. Soon the children were doing the same, many people looked and some bought. We made enough from the commissions to buy a Pool Table. Well worth the effort of inviting people to look through.

I loved the relaxed lifestyle we enjoyed at our beach house. The children and me lived in bathers all day usually spending it on the beach, then came home relaxed and happy, showered and got into our pyjamas, hung our rinsed bathers on the line ready for tomorrow

Our Beach House

consequently there was very little laundry to be done, wearing nothing but bathers and pyjamas relieved my workload dramatically. I only needed to do a proper wash once a week.

Poppa had bought a new Simpson washing machine with an electric wringer and given us his old one with a hand wringer. I could do four or five large loads all within the hour, while the agitator in the tub was washing the clothes the children took turns to turn the wringer as I fed the wet clothes through.

I often wish I have a washing machine as efficient and as quick in this modern age, though I realise the kids wouldn't be prepared to turn the wringer manually... nor would I!

Summer school holidays were very special for us, as soon as school broke up we moved to Aldinga. I loved these few days before Xmas enjoying the tranquility of our beach house instead of the hum drum of the last-minute shopping rush back in Adelaide. We spent every Xmas here.

Poppa Gourlay enjoyed Xmas day with us and loved to play Santa to the kids, always very generous putting much thought in consultation with us over their presents. Our beach house was a happy house where our friends were all welcome to visit and stay.

Early mornings the beach was deserted, this is where Mark and Shane learned to drive a car, Bill or I was always with them of course. Le-Anne never wanted to drive but the boys were always eager. There was miles of deserted beach washed firm by the outgoing overnight tide, a pleasure to drive along. I don't know what the boys got up to with Bill but I was very strict about how they drove with me, so I was struck with horror when Mark suddenly had me spinning round in a tight circle. I screamed at him and threatened him to never do that again. He was not much older than ten.

After Xmas friends started arriving, self-contained making themselves at home in time for New Year's Eve, always so much fun. Barbara and Steve Garie and their two daughters Sharon and Susan, Arthur and Joan Foster and their daughter Wendy and young son Bradley, Bob and Joan Sheppard and their three children, Colin and Coleen Vass and their son Robbie, in the same class as Shane at school, Margaret and Bernie Baring and their daughter Sheryl (before their son was born) were the standard regulars with a few extras each year.

It became routine, everyone had their own space and without any fuss easily made themselves at home. Bob and Joan brought their compact pop up caravan for their family to sleep in. At bed time the lounge was wall to wall mattresses for our guests. Bill and I were grateful to have the luxury of our own room and bed. The children all around the same age as ours slept downstairs and the adults upstairs. Children weren't allowed upstairs after bed time, (we didn't want our children to see how much fun we were having) except young Bradley Foster who slept on the floor in our room because he was too young to be allowed unsupervised downstairs: after a few years Bradley was promoted to downstairs when he became 'a big boy'.

Every night was a party; sometimes we played cards or pool. Our favorite card game was 21 because unlimited numbers of any age or skill could play. Often there were over twenty people squeezed around our dining table playing 21, one such night two-year-old Sheryl Baring beat us all.

Our guest playing '21' around the table

New Year's Eve was our big party night with an open invite extended to all. The days were spent at the beach where many new friends were made, they were all invited. These parties were enjoyed by all with adults upstairs and children downstairs, we never saw the children, they enjoyed the freedom of no parents as we did with no children.

These New Year's Eve parties became an annual ritual. As each year passed the children were a year older, suddenly they were young adults, we adults found ourselves banned from going downstairs. The children had demoted upstairs and banned the parents from going downstairs. I thought it a huge joke but Bill was concerned and insisted **I** do something about segregating the boys from the girls, too late this year!

The next year Arthur Foster who owned a mattress retail business offered to bring his delivery van, the idea was to lock the boys in the van at night while the girls slept alone inside. It didn't work, the van wasn't used. The next year Bill insisted we install tents around the yard for the boys. I got up in the early hours of the morning after everyone had gone to bed, peeked into the tents... empty. Bill never knew his good intentions didn't work.

The kids to this day remember with fond memories those carefree days at our Aldinga beach house.

Feeding such a large group was surprisingly easy (no take-a-ways then) because everyone brought enough food for themselves and it was shared. We ate very well. Each meal the women discussed what they had brought then decided the menu. I enjoyed the meals especially as I wasn't totally responsible for them and I was sensibly eating again and back to my ideal weight, even my boobs had filled out a little they didn't look so fried egg like.

Steve managed the eskys with the drinks. Bill and I relaxed and let our guest take over, these guests allowed us to have a relaxing holiday.  
I loved it.  
The kids all got on so well, the property the house and the beach provided plenty of space for everyone.

I always did everything in bulk so it was no trouble at all to daily provide the tribe with fresh yeast buns, fruit, cinnamon, or iced. The kids would come running to the kitchen as they smelled the buns cooking and wait patiently for them to come out of the oven; then quickly devour them. I never seemed to be able to make enough. The buns were so delicious aided by the Jag? How? You ask!

All explained in the next chapters.

Yeast buns just out the oven. Barbara can't serve them quick enough

Although Aldinga was only a small shack town with just one small General Store and one Real Estate person it swelled in numbers over the Xmas holidays, all the shacks were occupied not only by the owners but many friends as well. Everybody spent their days on the beach; it was so easy to take the family to the beach because cars were allowed, even though all the shacks were within easy walking distance we all took our cars on to the beach filled with our beach gear, so very convenient; on hot days three rows of cars were parked along the beach from Aldinga to Sellicks Hill a few miles south along the coast.

The rough bush entrance to the beach on busy days became dangerously churned up, we locals knew how to safely drive through this almost impassable entrance and exit but tourists invariably got hopelessly bogged, there were no four-wheel drives then. As our boys got older they delighted in waiting for the inevitable to happen, cars getting bogged, then helped to get them out, they knew the logistics and grew expert at rescuing bogged cars, rating themselves as beach hero's.

Our work Chrysler on the beach with the gang at Aldinga

Aldinga is an absolutely beautiful natural beach, but the sea at all times must be respected. We saw many holidays ruined because of complacency. One Xmas a young family with their brand new sedan car launched their expensive new boat off the beach as everyone did, parked the car and trailer high as possible up the sand dunes as everyone did and spent the day at sea.

They arrived back to shore later than the experienced boaties, the tide was rapidly coming in, by the time they got their boat hitched to the car the water was lapping the car wheels.

As they desperately tried to drive out of the sea with the boat attached they became bogged, the harder they revved, the more the wheels went down.

The tide was coming in at an alarming speed. They were hopelessly bogged. The new car and boat were now half immersed in the sea; the car was full of water.

Finally an experienced boat owner towed the wrecked car and boat out. Salty water poured out of the car; it was absolutely ruined.

Their Xmas had turned into a disaster, they were so distraught. I now know the secret of towing a bogged car is not to tow straight, but on an angle.

A family lost their life when their wooden boat split in two off Aldinga Beach. The split boat back on the beach was a sore reminder of how dangerous the sea can be.

Sharks were always of great concern though we never saw any but many shark attacks have been reported along this coastline.

During the summer holidays swimming and lifesaving lessons were free to all; these were well attended with no accidents. There were only a few heated swimming pools in Adelaide and most of the year was too cold for swimming so every opportunity was taken during the summer months to teach water skills.

Bill relaxed at our beach house having time and the right environment for designing new pieces of furniture, each Xmas holiday he proudly produced the prototype of new piece of furniture which his students came to expect, they were becoming good carvers and progressed to carving chairs, tables and cabinets. They appreciated every new piece of furniture Bill introduced. He was continually being urged by his students to design more furniture for them to carve and though he rejected all pressure he was happy quietly designing at the beach house. He seemed to be much happier all round. Life was good. We spent all school holidays in our beach house.

The summer holidays of Xmas 1974 we decided to let our Hectorville home for a substantial holiday rental price to a young family holidaying from Darwin. This Xmas day cyclone Tracey hit Northern Territory and virtually flattened Darwin. The husband flew to Darwin to see what could be salvaged from their affluent home. Nothing! It wasn't there.

They were so grateful they were living in our home during the cyclone, and not their own.

This family rented our home for the next few years for their summer holidays, it suited them and it was great revenue for us. Bill certainly knew how to make the most of assets, he was able to wrangle an income out of all of our assets; he was so clever.

As the children grew older they had commitments during school holidays, it was so much extra work for me to organise our absence from home the flats and properties; it became a chore to spend midyear school holidays at Aldinga, especially in the winter months when the weather forced us to stay indoors.

We decided to lease out our beach house for a maximum of ten months each year, preferably to a tenant who wanted a lease for the whole ten months vacating by early December. This proved to be a successful venture not to mention another good income. Bill was pleased, it was less money he had to earn by producing with his hands, he could use the time far more productively designing furniture. He was happy when he was able to draw and create without interruption, and now we had another substantial income.

Bill was getting more and more involved teaching woodcarving, he absolutely engrossed himself in designing, I dare not interrupt him, he seemed happy in his trance world. I was so relieved he had stopped talking about dying, although he still believed he wouldn't live beyond fifty.

He was still taking the anti-depressant drugs believing they were a wonder pill and recommended them to anyone who he thought would benefit from them. No way could he convince me to take them, anyway I didn't feel I needed them.

Bill during his depressions wanted to attend church, so one Sunday morning during the Xmas holidays at Aldinga we went to the small local Methodist church; the children were old enough to be left alone for this short time with the kindly next door neighbour at hand in case of an emergency.

We felt quite liberated being able to go out like this with the children happy at home. After church I suggested we go home via Maslin Beach, a beautiful long stretch of beach just north of Aldinga Beach."

# 

# Chapter 17

## Maslin Beach

Maslin Beach was divided into two areas, a clad and unclad area. The unclad area was the southern end of the beach with the entrance not far from our beach house. We parked our car on the hill top high above the unclad area and tentatively not knowing what to expect made our way down the very steep rough path to the nude beach.

It was a hot day, we knew the beaches would be well attended but never expected what awaited us at this beach. It was packed with couples, families and groups of friends and to our amasement everyone was stark naked contentedly sun baking, swimming, playing ball games or hopscotch. We took in the scene for a while then realised we were the odd ones out; everyone was staring at us.

It seemed the most natural and proper thing to do to take off our clothes as well. I felt very self-conscious undressing in public. I was glad I was only wearing a long button through frock (I had not only 'burnt my bra' but also my knickers) which I was able to quickly take off; in a flash I was nude, not long after Bill was also nude. Not a soul took any notice of us now we were nude. The feeling of freedom was exhilarating.

We didn't stay very long because Bill couldn't take too much sun and we had to get back to the children. I easily donned my frock and did up the buttons feeling like a naughty child. The long steep climb back up the hill to the car park would have been a deterrent for many unfit people and I hopefully undesirable folks. I hoped only keen nudists would venture up and down this rather treacherous track and not people with ulterior motives.

I loved this beach even more than Aldinga. The long expanse of pristine white sands and crystal clear gently lapping water was like nowhere else I have ever seen. The beach was kept clean by volunteers (yes nude) who drove a Jeep towing a rubbish trailer up and down the beach, not even a cigarette butt or match stick was allowed to mar the pristine sands.

We often took the children to Maslin Beach, they didn't undress; except once Shane. Late afternoon when most people had gone home, our family was happily swimming in the shallows and Shane felt comfortable enough in waist high water to slip off his bathers giving them to me to hold... when who should we see walking up the beach towards us but a family of dear friends, also naked.

"SHIT" Shane explicated as he snatched his bathers from me and hurriedly pulled them back on. This was the first time I heard him swear. It didn't take long for any awkwardness to wear off with our friends; we frolicked and swam in the late afternoon surf enjoying the freedom of nudity.

Shane was so enjoying diving off their shoulders into the surf when he landed on his head quite hard resulting in him not being able to walk or even move. We carefully got him to shore. We asked another family as they were leaving if they would phone an ambulance at the nearby telephone booth (no mobile phones then).

Our friends were distraught, we held no grudge it was purely an accident. Eventually an ambulance arrived, a diagnosis was difficult without x-rays so to be sure the ambulance guys carried Shane on a stretcher the whole length of the beach to the northern entrance through the clad area where access to and from the beach was so much easier. It was a worrying time, but thankfully Shane was perfectly okay, but he never nuded again.

Maslin became my favored beach. Bill didn't always come with me; he couldn't take as much sun as me and he'd had one lucky escape with melanoma and didn't want to push his luck. I was aware of the dangers of the sun, probably more aware than most because of Bill's experience but I was addicted to the sun and consciously made the decision I would continue sunbathing but keeping an eye on my skin and have anything suspect removed before it turned nasty.

I developed an itchy brown pigmentation the size if a five-cent piece on my cheekbone which was obviously caused by the sun. It felt active, apart from itching it throbbed. I remembered mum saying the juice of a thistle stem cured strange skin spots. Without thinking I picked a thistle, broke the stem and rubbed the juice on my cheek, repeating the process repeatedly for a few days. The skin spot suddenly flared into a large throbbing itchy weeping scabby sore right in the centre of my cheek, so bad I hesitantly went to doctor expecting to be scolded for being so stupid. I told him what I had done and waited for his lecture.

"It seems to work" he said.  
I was so relieved. The scab finally crusted off leaving no pigmentation or scar. It worked the same as modern day dry ice treatment.  
_We now live in the tropics and thistle weeds doesn't grow here. I haven't found a weed that gives the same results as yet, but I am working on it._

I introduced many friends who visited us at our beach house to Maslin Beach, most of them became as addicted as me. It is surprising how many people we knew also frequented this special beach.

People who had never been to Maslin Beach sniggered at the thought of public nudity assuming it was all in bad taste with ulterior motives. It wasn't.

"It's not what you think it is. You should go and see for yourself before you discredit and smirk about Maslin Beach." I emphatically told them.

Fleur also loved the beach and the water, especially Maslin Beach, she somehow knew when we were going and was so excited. She was such a well-behaved dog I never took a lead to the beach; she was great company and never left me. She was also protective of me growling if anyone approached, especially when I was engrossed in a book or asleep. Fleur loved to dig a hole in the sand for me to use as a chair, she also was an excellent fielder for cricket or ball dog for beach tennis, there was always a game in play at Maslin Beach.

When I first introduced Beach Ball to my kids at Aldinga I played down to their standard, as each year passed they got better and better... until one year, Shane the sporty competitor, beat me, yes it was at a family day at Maslin. I wasn't keeping my eye on the _tennis_ ball. He's never let me forget it.

I remember the first time I went to Maslin Beach on my own, though of course with my trusty Fleur, I was a wee bit tentative; it was a weekday, so the beach wasn't so packed. I settled down in the largest free space I could find under my umbrella with a book. I noticed there were a few single men a way away, but soon there were more single men seemingly innocently sunning themselves settled around me... too close. Soon the inevitable happened one guy dared approach me and started a conversation. I was apprehensive but we had a sensible friendly conversation with no innuendos. Later an elderly gent and his wife obviously regulars because they were tanned all over asked me if I was okay.

"Yes thank you."

The regulars knew I wasn't a regular (my pie bald tan gave me away). I became friendly with this lovely retired couple and eventually friends with most of the regulars though I preferred to be alone. I relished the absolute privacy and tranquility of mind on this beach's beautiful natural environment. My first trip to Maslin Beach alone proved I would be perfectly safe; any untoward happenings would be easily and quickly spotted and abated by the devoted regulars.

It intrigued me to see ladies and gents dressed in their Sunday best, suits, stockings and carrying handbags strolling along the beach. These folks had to walk about a kilometer through the clad beach before they reached the unclad beach; they were obviously coming for a sticky beak. It was also obvious that once they reached the unclad area they were embarrassed, everyone but them were totally nude, they looked so out of their comfort zone. I always endeavoured to embarrass them further by staring at them.

It became a favorite pass time of mine to stroll up the beach with Fleur purposely to meet face to face those who obviously came for a sticky beak. I timed my casual stroll to coincide with them as they were making a hasty retreat. It is very hard for anyone to look anywhere other than at their shoes with a nude lady boldly striding toward them, eyeballing them.

It was particularly amusing to watch the wives watching their husbands as the husbands tried to innocently ogle on the females. I was becoming rather daring.

Strange as it may seem there was nothing sexist about Maslin, with everyone nude there is no class distinction, everyone is on equal terms in the nude. Beach goers who went to Maslin soon realised this was so and eventually slowly removed their clothes just like we did on our first visit. Occasionally a guy would ogle me, I didn't like it, I exercised my non fail cure for these oglers, glaringly staring them in the eye, it always worked, even more so if they were clad. I was discovering an inner power I could never have dreamed of.

Lots of amusing happenings occurred at Maslins Beach over the years. I was there with four girlfriends; it was a hot day and so the unclad portion of the beach was packed. We girls settled our nude selves on our beach mats all oiled up and glistening with sun tanning oil. Inevitably when a group of females gather, especially nude ones, a parade of males casually stroll past, as they did this day; up and down the water's edge right past us. My bold girlfriends started judging them... out of ten. We laughed and laughed at the antics and responses, I'm sure the guys soon realised what we were doing, so did everyone else around us.

The regulars got to know each other as all joined in the popular volley ball and cricket games that were regularly played lead by a very tall handsome gent as fit as, with a superb physic appearing to be a friend to all, he was a pleasure to watch and never went unnoticed not only because of his popularity and physic but because he had the largest member by far that I had ever seen, and I had seen many at this beach.

I wondered how big his member would become when erect. Would a large penis increase in size in comparison to how a smaller penis increased to more than double its size when erected? I made a promise to myself if I got to know him well enough I would ask him.  
How did I come to even think so boldly?

Eventually the day came when I dared ask him. We were both lying on our tummies chatting.

"Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"Not at all, go for it."

"Well you know how big a small penis becomes when erected... does a large penis become as big in comparison?"  
He smirked with amusement as if no-one had dared ask him the results of that scenario.

"If I roll over you'll see."

"NO! DON'T BOTHER...PLEASE!!!"

I never found out.

I didn't like being on the beach with a lot of people nearby. I'd walk a long way to find a large area I could relax in by myself where I oiled up and inevitably fell asleep. Without fail on awakening there all around me closer than was necessary were single guys. I immediately packed up and moved to another open space. They got the message. I didn't like being approached by people and I didn't like being crowded.

On hot days the beach was so popular there was hardly space enough for a beach towel in the unclad area while the clad area only had a handful of people to share a kilometer of beach. I took advantage of the open spaces of the clad area and settled myself in the open space just outside the unclad area. I knew it was illegal to be nude outside the unclad zone but I was happy to be out of the crowds and still a long way from the regular clad beach goers.

A voice interrupted my solitude

"Do you realise you are breaking the law?"

"Ye....bu....."

"But you aren't really. The sign says 'No unclad bathing past this point'. You aren't bathing are you? If you want to bathe go the other side of the sign."  
The voice was of a prominent lawyer/judge, a regular Maslin personality.

"Okay! I like that. Thanks."

I continued to enjoy my solitude every busy day in the clad area just outside the unclad area without worrying about breaking the law. I just made sure I didn't go in the sea and 'bathe'.

The funniest happening I experienced of which I felt not only bold but knew I held the trump card was, a dog inspector who I saw at Maslin only this once patrolling the beach on his small motor scooter. I knew dogs were supposed to be kept on a lead, but Fleur never left my side unless I told her to, so I figured she didn't need a lead on. This gentleman inspector as I lay on my towel drove his scooter directly up to me; he clad, me starkers, of course Fleur immediately went into protection mode. Oh dear!

"Yes." I indignantly said as I boldly sat up front on to him looking him directly in the eye.

"How can I help you?"

"Do you know dogs must be on a lead at all times when on the beach?"

"Is that really so? No I didn't know." I innocently replied, as I realised he was very embarrassed talking to a nude lady. Ah ha I will have a bit of fun here.

"But my dog doesn't leave my side, it's like as if she's got a lead on. You haven't seen her straying, have you?"

"No, but the law states all dogs must be on a lead."

"Oh dear, I don't have a lead with me, it's not necessary for me to carry a lead for Fleur."

"Well you should get one because it is the law."

"Don't you think some laws are too much over the top?"

And so I carried on this ridiculous conversation, all the time eye balling him while daringly and very provocatively moving my naked body seductively around in a manner I had never done before.

I felt power over this guy, a new experience for me, I had him rattled; he was blabbering. I played him along with dumb blonde questions (I was blonde then). It was so much fun. I had never used such tactics before. (I haven't used those tactics since either).He finally gave up on me and drove off without laying any charges. All those around me were watching this performance.

"Don't think we'll see him here again." I announced to those around me.

We didn't!

The locals were very protective of their beach and didn't take kindly to outsiders invading especially if they left litter or drove motor vehicles along the beach, the only motor vehicles that were welcome was the small Suzi pulling the rubbish trailer and the local mobile kiosk jeep selling snacks and ice cream.

When we weren't holidaying at Aldinga, weather permitting most weeks I'd take a day off and drive to Maslin with Fleur, it was a day of total relaxation for me. I loved it, especially the compliments about my body which I took with a pinch of salt because I thought the compliments had ulterior motives, even so I became more daring in fact I was becoming quite bold, so bold in fact that one day as I was swimming in the surf, a handsome slim and fit tanned gent quite out of the blue appeared before me.

"Would you like to have lunch with me tomorrow?"

I liked his bold approach. I felt it deserved a bold answer.

"Yes thank you."  
In fact we had quite a few lunches...  
but I am getting ahead of myself.

The nearest squash courts were at nearby Christies Beach. A perfect day for me during holidays at Aldinga was a game of squash in the morning; lunch then a few hours at Maslins, home, shower and relax with a glass of champagne or wine or two or three before dinner; a nice dinner, then early to bed. I played with the Christies Beach girls on their social days of squash.

My dear Irish friend Jill always as eager as me for a game of squash came with me on one of these days, we played squash all morning then I invited her to join me at Maslin Beach. I assured her, a very sedate proper lady, she didn't have to nude up unless she was quite comfortable about it.

Everyone secretly longed to go to Maslin's to 'see for themselves' I guess Jill was no different, and why not? She had me as a chaperone.

Jill has since become a successful published poet; she wrote a poem of her day at Maslin Beach; with her permission here it is...

EUNICE

We know Eunice who's fun is a fan of the sun

And enjoys spending days by the sea.

I can now barely wait as my favorite mate

Is intending to share one with me.

Packed the kids off with dad, so I'm ever so glad

I'll relax while acquiring a tan.

But young Eunice you see's not the least bit like me

And relaxing is not part of her plan.

We take Eunice's car, it is faster by far

And set off for a day without care.

But the dog that comes too is as big as a roo

And she slobbers all over my hair.

After almost an hour, we hop out of the car.

I'm entranced by the wonderful view

But I'd never have come for my day in the sun

If I'd known what that Eunice would do.

In that bustling car-park for a bit of a lark

She abandoned the clothing she wore.

In a sun-hat she stood but was otherwise nude

While I dreaded what might be in store.

I'm not one to be rude; I'm a bit of a prude.

And my bathers are under a shirt

So I'm taken aback, Eunice swans down the track

Flashing boobs so incredibly pert.

I should perhaps mention; my mate craves attention.

And she bounces around with the dog.

I collapse on the sand with a drink in my hand

Mrs. Fitness is planning to jog.

Eunice gives me a grin, then she oils up her skin

What wouldn't I give for that figure?

Though I'm brown as can be (in the parts you can see!)

My body's decidedly bigger.

Eunice goes for a run and she glints in the sun

The eyes of bronzed Aussies all seek her.

As they watch her fly past, every bloke is aghast.

She's such a remarkable streaker.

I am left all alone without even a phone

Overwhelmed by hundreds of nudes.

Clad in bathers I pout for I really stand out

As the undoubted queen of all prudes.

At last Eunice can sit and we chat for a bit.

She is checking the men while we joke.

She waves, says, 'Hello.' while I'm yelling,

Oh No!'

For eventually up comes a bloke.

Eunice holds out a hand and he flops on the sand

Then reclines with a confident pose.

I look straight in his eyes, in case something should rise,

in a panic for one never knows.

I think let the man flirt and I reach for my shirt

Eunice always will know what to say.

I don't care for this stuff; I think one man's enough.

But the blighter is staring my way.

Now the cheeky young sod says, 'Young lady, it's odd.'

You're the only one here that's attired.

If you've scars under there, that's a tough cross to bear.

When your friend here is so much admired.

I say, 'Sir don't malign this beaut body of mine.

It is flawless; I've no scars to hide.'

Though faced with perfection, he senses rejection

I escape to the incoming tide.

It is almost sundown when we head back to town.

Our conservative families are there.

Eunice wears a sarong and so what can go wrong?

Oops the wind blows it up in the air.

Well my husband so wise gazes up to the skies

Because Eunice so brazen is bare.

And his eyes how they rolled when our stories were told

Now wherever I go – he is there.

Damn! Damn! Damn!

Jill Wherry

Maslin Beach and its beautiful clear water

# Chapter 18

## Moving forward

27th April 1972 the first anniversary of dad's death. In the post came a cheque from Roger for $1500. I couldn't believe it. This was my money; I was going to use it for myself, my comfort, not for tenants or woodcarvers, but for me. Bill hadn't encouraged any spending on our home in fact he discouraged spending money unless it was on income bearing propositions. I decided I was going to build extensions on the back of our home, it was my money and I was going to use it for the comfort of our family.

SO! The dining room window became the opening into a new rumpus room and a small bedroom each for Mark and Shane down the hallway leading to a new entrance opening into the carports. The boys desperately needed their own bedroom and privacy. The two extra bedrooms for the boys though small and the new rumpus room was a godsend to us all.

Everyone was happy with the new additions especially me, the boys each loved their own room and everyone loved the rumpus room, it was designed for rumpus and used accordingly.

We removed the wall along the hallway of the original boy's bedroom creating a formal dining area; the original lounge became the formal lounge.

I oversaw the building of the extensions made predominantly of asbestos; all the exterior walls were built from sheets of patterned asbestos causing asbestos dust to fill the air as the builders cut the sheets to size. I saved many of the off cuts, they came in handy for covering muddy paths or as a heat deflector under the gas jet of the stove for extra slow cooking. We had no idea of the dangers of asbestos liberally used in most homes in those days.

The second anniversary of dad's death I carpeted our home with my inheritance money. I hadn't felt justified spending money on floor coverings, but with my own money I would, especially as we now lived mostly in the new rumpus room.

The original lounge was rarely used so I chose white, short shag dense nylon carpet continuing into ours and Leanne's bedrooms depicting the formal areas, it was luxurious and surprisingly easy maintenance.

I could not believe the difference carpet made, so much quieter and warmer with such a luxurious feel about it. We now had the white carpeted formal area, and the brown carpeted living area. Although Bill wasn't enthused with me spending the money on our home he enjoyed the comforts it provided, especially the quietness he now enjoyed each morning without the echo of footsteps on bare boards, it was easier for the kids and me too not having to tip toe. What will I spend next year's money on?

Over the years I spent most of my inheritance on our Hectorville home. Glenys's architect husband drew up extension plans. In front of the original carports new double carports were built to enhance the design and style of the house; extensive cement driveways to the carports catered for five cars within our yard.

I was proud of our home. At last I had transformed it into a home I was proud and happy with, comfortable formal areas and expansive informal areas where the kids and pets could relax and enjoy themselves.

We received an invite to attend an exhibition of 'The Five Brush Men of the Bush' to be opened by South Australia's Governor who at the time was Keith Seaman the Methodist Reverend who married us. The artists would be in attendance including Jack Absalom who must have been responsible for our invite; even though we'd be totally out of our comfort zone we went along.

As we studied the art trying not to look as uncomfortable in this formal environment as we felt. Silence fell across the gallery. The official party was arriving led by the Governor who spotted us and immediately came to us greeting us with a welcoming handshake.

"Hallo Bill. Hallo Eunice. How are you both?"

He held up the official proceedings as he chatted to us.

Next Jack Absalom recognised us and chatted.

We felt important and sensed the envy from seemingly 'important' guests. This event instilled great confidence in me it gave me a sense of my worth and I think for Bill also.

Bill decided life was too short to do stuff he didn't want to do, so he would only do what he really wanted to do. I heartily agreed with him. I certainly enjoyed everything I was doing, so why shouldn't he? Lucky I enjoyed the duties I found myself landed with which was absolutely everything except designing and making furniture.

It seemed Bill just wanted to design furniture, he would sit totally absorbed for hours at a sheet of ply wood drawing firstly in chalk then defining the line with pencil and rubber, these designs took many hours, weeks, months to complete, but were absolute master pieces when completed, he had more patience than I could imagine possible. I have absolutely no patience but learned to leave him in his trance like state to create these masterpieces.

Bill never wrote a letter, paid a bill, answered or talked on the phone, he emphatically impressed on me I was do all administrations and take all phone calls and deal with them; he didn't deem it was necessary for him to be disturbed. I thought it a strange request but didn't mind, I loved talking and handling what-ever was necessary I was in my element organising what-ever...

I was virtually left on my own to run the household, the business, the rental properties, the children's schooling and hobbies and all our social activities. I was inadvertently becoming efficient at multi-tasking.

I was surprising myself. I was enjoying the responsibilities. I found I enjoyed each challenge and learned something from each one.

I was managing absolutely all our responsibilities, and successfully. I became more confident.

The only thing I was worried about was Bill's attitude to life, he was still convinced he had cancer like his mum and was going to die, he was sure he wouldn't live beyond fifty years.

I couldn't comprehend his thinking and didn't have time or the initiative to do so. I was extra busy doing what I had to; luckily enjoyed being so.

"You can't keep this pace up forever you'll have to slow down soon." Mum kept telling me.

"Mum! While I can I will, and I enjoy everything I do!"

Life was tranquil... so long as I didn't let myself overstep the mark and forget who the real boss was in our marriage.

I became expert at giving Bill credit for more than he deserved. I worked on boosting his moral. It worked. He was proud of our businesses and successes; he gratefully accepted all accolades. I was proud of him too, after all I was only the lackey he was the brains with all the wonderful ideas.

Bill continued to sing the praises of Tryptanol encouraging anyone a bit depressed to "take them" he was also drinking more alcohol, lots more. We both now drank alcohol regularly each night I looked forward to a drink as I prepared dinner.

Bill said he needed alcohol to give him a buzz over the continual buzz he was getting daily from the antidepressants pills, he encouraged me to take them as well but he couldn't convince me even when I was depressed which I regularly was.

I had learned to ride my depression knowing I would eventually snap out of it, which I did by doing something productive or creating clothes on the sewing machine. In my depressions I felt so stupid wondering why was I depressed I had nothing to be depressed about I had no financial problems no health problems no relationship problems. Get your act together Eunice! As usual I soon snapped out of my depressions and was functioning at one hundred and ten percent capacities again. _WOW! As I write this I wonder if I just wore myself out and needed to let my batteries recharge as my father did._

One Sunday on the way to visit Poppa Bill noticed a midnight blue Jaguar XJ6 for sale in a car yard. We stopped to admire it. Yes it was nice, "but what's the use of us looking at it?"

"We can afford to buy it. Why don't we?" Bill said.

There was no Sunday trading allowed in those days, so the next day, Monday, found us at the car yard as it opened. We went for a test run. Bill was in raptures over this car, he said it was just so beautiful to drive. I thought it was different, the automatic transmission and power steering was new and scary to me (they were only in a few luxury cars back then). I wasn't enthused by this car but... we bought it.

Bill drove it home I drove the Holden Kingswood. Bill said the Kingswood was far too good a car to trade it in at the price they were prepared to offer, both cars were five years old but Bill assured me the Jag being a far superior car would last many more years than the Kingswood. He suggested we give Poppa Gourlay the Kingswood to replace his little Ford Prefect. Poppa was delighted.

When Bill suggested I take the Jag for a run "after all you will be the one driving it" I wasn't keen. I was comfortable and happy in the Kingswood but tentatively drove the Jag around the block keeping as near as possible to the kerb for safety. I was sure I'd never get used to driving this car. I did!!

It wasn't long before I was at full speed everywhere. I realised it was a remarkable car to drive, as big as it was it was like a baby to manipulate aided by power steering. I grew to love it. I got many speeding fines, luckily these were the days before the points system for traffic breaches was introduced.

One thing so obvious to me was the different perception people assumed of me when driving the Jag. The continuous flirtatious looks and innuendos when in the Kingswood stopped, (I missed them too) people still looked but in an admiring way, I thought it strange "Why would they look at me like that?"

I learned to leave the Jag parked out of sight if I was doing a business deal or buying something, it was amasing how good a deal I could make without them knowing I drove a Jag.

Our friends all admired our new car; I was surprised at the unanimous response; it seemed as if we had risen a notch in society, almost revered. Our friends were all happy to drive it especially Steve who drove it every time we went out together. Bill preferred not to drive to social functions because mixing alcohol with his anti-depressants was dangerous. I was happy to let Steve take over my job which he capably did.

I found this Jag a valuable asset in the most unlikely manner... for making yeast buns; it was midnight blue in colour, nearly black attributing to the interior becoming extremely hot when parked in the sun so I placed the yeast buns in the Jag in the sun during the rising process of the mixtures, this hot environment never failed to produce perfect buns in surprisingly short time.

I accepted this method of yeast making as normal but it caused others to gape in amasement especially at Aldinga when I'd roll the Jag out of the carport into the sun for the daily bun baking when we had our friends staying over, the kids loved to look through the windows and watch the dough mixture rising in the bowl.

I had always owned manual cars, this Jag was the first automatic I had driven, I didn't appreciate or understand the mechanisms of an automatic. I was driving us home from a ball one night dressed to the nines obviously a bit tipsy, and as usual smoking a cigarette. I was wearing a white polyester latest fashion floor length gown I had made.

I dropped the lit cigarette... onto my lap. I slowed up and tried to rescue the cigarette but it melted the fabric of my gown and disappeared through the hole it burnt and fell between my legs, it was burning me, I shifted attempting to retrieve it lifting myself off the seat as the offending cigarette became more elusive.  
It was obvious I wouldn't be able to retrieve it successfully.  
It was now under me.  
I couldn't sit without sitting on it and burning my bum upper legs and the seat. I slowed the car to a stop.  
I had to get out and quickly to free myself from more burns or worse repercussions.  
I had the presence of mind to warn Bill I was getting out of the car which I did quickly.  
Good I was able to shake the offending cigarette free. I looked up.  
The Jag was gaining speed as it motored its way down the hill away from me.  
I knew I had left it in drive when I hastily jumped out but I expected Bill to lean over and put his foot on the brake as he would in the Kingswood.  
Why wasn't he doing so?  
I ran madly to try and catch the car which was gaining in speed.  
I caught up jumped in and jammed my foot on the brake, it stopped abruptly. I accused Bill of not doing so.

He couldn't; this car had a console between the front seats preventing him from getting to the brake which I had forgotten about; most cars in those days had long bench seats which I was accustomed to. We were very lucky to have escaped this episode with only a hole burnt through the centre front and back of my new fashionable gown.

I mourned the fact my gown was ruined until Barbara suggested I make more seams down the skirt incorporating the offending holes. I did and wore this lovely frock many more times. Thanks Barbara!  
The seat was only scorched.  
The burns on my legs healed... eventually.

Poppa appreciated the Kingswood. He had never owned such a nice car. I looked forward to his visits every Wednesday and taking the kids for a drive after school while I prepared dinner for us all without the kids annoying me.

I shuddered each time I bundled the kids into the car with him and waved them goodbye. Poppa wasn't the best driver and getting worse as he got older and this car was much larger than his old one with more room for the kids to roam all over as they jostled from the front to the back seats at their boisterous whim. He loved taking the kids for a drive and I didn't have the heart to stop him. Fortunately, there was never an accident with Poppa.

Many years later when Poppa handed in his licence he gave the Kingswood back to Mark and Shane. They used it for many years, they called it 'The Mission Bus' it easily sat three and possibly four across each of the front and back bench seats. The back floor had rusted out which became the 'garbage disposal unit' where they shamefully dropped their rubbish.

Now they tell me they tried to trash this car by thrashing it through vigorous driving. They couldn't. I wonder if the Jag lasted as long?

Bill seemed to be more content, he hadn't attacked me for a while maybe the clogs I still wore had an influence, maybe the fact he was contented doing what he loved, designing with not another care in the world. I knew I had to look after all our affairs, I daren't upset him by asking for his help or support. I had become adept at keeping him happy.

Neither did I get reprimanded by him at social events so much, I thought I was still acting the same but didn't seem to get into so much trouble, maybe me setting him up to be entertained by my girlfriends helped? I knew I mustn't ever let him sit by himself or I would cop it on the way home, a dangerous exercise as I was always driving when these attacks occurred. I certainly didn't want to crash the Jag. I often used this as an excuse to get him to lay off hitting me while I was driving.

Our social functions were the only times Bill and I spent together, something was usually on every Saturday night which he looked forward to attending, the rest of the time we spent in different worlds. Bill's days were from midday to midnight and beyond to what I don't know, mine from 6am-9pm. I usually fell asleep watching TV worn out. Bill accused me of keeping ridiculous hours and going to bed so early. He didn't seem to comprehend he slept in all morning arising at his leisure then spent his days doodling in the shed. He was drinking more alcohol now but maintained he never started drinking until 5pm.

"Bill, that's nothing to be proud of, you don't get up until after midday!"

He was drinking higher alcohol content drinks as time went on, port wine and whisky were his daily drinks but he'd drink anything alcoholic.

Where had my sober capable hardworking husband gone? I was slowly losing the remaining bit of respect I had for him. I wished he was still the strong capable man I married... no time for self-pity...I engrossed myself in the daily activities which kept me busy which luckily I enjoyed.

The children had become independent allowing me more time to manage all our properties, collect the rents, do the maintenance, attend meetings of organisations the children were involved in, Mothers Clubs, St John's Ambulance, Brownies, Guides etc. and time to myself to sing with the choir, play tennis and sew, I still made all our clothes.

I found myself Treasurer and Secretary of most of the Clubs I belonged to; when no-one else was prepared to take on the positions I offered; it was no chore to me, and I enjoyed every moment.

At the schools Mothers Club meeting I arranged a local practicing hypnotherapist to be the guest speaker. We found him interesting. I especially noted how he professed to help people give up smoking. I questioned him about it; he assured me he could help me give up the filthy habit. I told him I would be in to see him.

Smoking was the socially acceptable thing to do, in fact you were a dinosaur if you didn't smoke, the huge cigarette adverting campaign continually reminded us. Consequently the majority of people still smoked including me.

I had tried unsuccessfully to give it up after Le-Anne jolted me into sensibility when emptying the over full ashtrays she scolded me. "Mum, this is a disgusting habit I will never take up smoking, it's terrible and it stinks."

"Good!" I said "That's one good thing my smoking has done, cured you from ever taking it up."

Though I wanted to quit I was weak willed. I continued smoking. Le-Anne never smoked. Bill had quietly given up smoking, cold turkey a few months previous, I got into trouble because he hadn't smoked for a whole day and I hadn't noticed. I did feel guilty about not noticing.

I liked to think I only smoked a packet of twenty a day, but a carton (ten packets) didn't last me a week. I regularly suffered attacks of bronchitis; the medication Doc gave me was almost worse than the complaint but I persevered with the medication because I knew it eventually worked.

One such bout of bronchitis Doc said "You should give up smoking; at the very least you must layoff for a while to allow your lungs to recover, but preferably give it up."

I was so ill and short winded I rang the hypnotherapist and made an appointment. I had no idea what to expect.

He was psychologically brilliant; he handled my strong willed brain expertly. I told him when I gave up smoking I didn't want to put on weight, that was the reason I started smoking all those years ago to curb my eating.  
He brainwashed me into believing smoking was awful... and... when I stopped smoking...  
I wouldn't be able to handle the smell of nicotine; its stink would repulse me.  
I would feel sorry for those poor unfortunates that sucked on stinking cigarettes.  
I would be grateful I had stopped smoking to save my lungs from further damage.  
I would think of the many dollars I would save.  
And... I would be repulsed at the sight of tempting 'fat pills' cream cakes, sweets and pastries that are cleverly displayed in shops to tempt an impulsive eater. I would think of them as fattening and be repelled by the thought; "and" he said "if you get the urge to have a cigarette... don't.  
Ring me instead."

My own form of brainwashing took me straight from the hypnotists to a jewellery store where I bought gold jewellery to the value of six weeks' worth of cigarettes, this extravagant purchase plus the hypnotherapist consultant fees totaled three months' worth of cigarettes.

My thinking was I wouldn't smoke for three months in order to pay for my extravagances, justifying my spending so much money on unnecessary luxuries, it was far better than spending money on cigarettes.

Poor Bill was speechless when I got home and showed him my expensive gold purchases.

"It's bought with money I would have spent on cigarettes."  
There was no argument from him. What could he say?

It worked; and I was determined I wouldn't ring the hypnotherapist, how embarrassing to be such a whimp.

From that day to this I can't stand the smell of cigarettes. I feel so sorry for those poor unfortunates that are smoking, and it still revolts me to see disgustingly delicious 'fat pills' beautifully displayed in order to trap the disconcerting, usually obese people who buy them and stuff them unwittingly into their mouths. It revolts me even more in recent times now that smoking is banned in many areas to see poor unfortunates standing outside in isolated areas puffing away on cigarettes braving the elements of the weather be it wet and cold or stiflingly hot to get their deadly nicotine fix.

I put on a little weight, and everyone told me I looked a lot better, certainly I was 'curvy' and my boobs were filling out slightly but I was careful what I ate.  
To keep my hands occupied instead of dragging on a cigarette or reaching for comfort food I drank water, lots of it.  
I also rode my old pushbike, the one I had when I was at high school, mum and dad had brought it to Adelaide for me. I was too busy to ride it for simply exercise but I rode to all the nearby places I needed to go with all my necessary accompaniments in the basket attached to the handlebars. It was joked around the neighborhood. "Eunice is either driving her flash Jag or her rusted out pushbike".

I didn't care. I enjoyed riding the bike I saw so much more of the neighborhood. and riding my bike had a twofold purpose, for fitness and saving fuel costs; prices were rising and there was talk of a fuel shortage, well I would be mobile. Petrol was approx 47cents a gallon with talk of it rising to $2 per gallon. We simply couldn't imagine paying that much for fuel. (4.2 litres=1 gallon). _I remembered mum keeping her horse and buggy to ensure she would always be mobile._

All my life I yearned to be in concerts or on stage though I knew I didn't have the skill or the talent... until I heard the well-known Metropolitan Musical Company was looking for singers for the chorus of their next show 'Calamity Jane' I knew some people already in show and thought I could sing as good as them, so I joined and was cast as one of four 'Puritans' written into the show for us; thus began rehearsals.

I enjoyed learning a script and singing songs but found the basic chorography quite difficult though they made the moves as easy as possible. Rehearsals were easily slotted into my busy schedule and I enjoyed them, as the show time got nearer rehearsals became more frequent; I felt guilty being away so many nights a week.

The show ran for two weeks plus the week before of rehearsals every night. I had no energy to do anything other than 'Calamity Jane' during these three weeks, it consumed my life. I loved every minute, but it totally consumed me. It took a long time to unwind when I got home after the performances consequently I was sleep deprived as the kids were always up before daybreak, I was simply running on adrenaline, the only way I coped was to do absolutely minimal during the day in order to perform my best in the show, and be a mother... of sorts.

I enjoyed the buzz, the excitement, the costumes and especially performing, but it was selfish of me to devote myself so, ignoring my regular responsibilities. I enjoyed that three weeks very much, three weeks of my life in a fantasy world totally devoted to 'Calamity Jane'.

I felt guilty, I did have another life which I had no choice but to ignore for those three weeks, and although Bill never complained I knew it was unfair of me to pursue this yearning into further shows. My family and business come first.

Bill brought the kids to the show, they enjoyed it, especially Le-Anne who said it gave her incentive to do stage shows. She joined the MET as a singer dancer and so my yearnings were slightly appeased as I kept in touch through Le-Anne. I remember it took quite a while for me to get myself back to normal after this show so much so that I could never consider doing another show. I have the greatest respect for show people especially those with families.

Mum was coping okay without dad, she contrived to always have a boarder, someone she knew and trusted, not only for company but security. We were talking to Roger and Angie again, though I still felt jealous. I wished I didn't. When Mark was seven they invited him to the farm, he was very excited, he hadn't been to the farm since Roger and Angie's wedding when he was four, none of us had.

We, with trepidation put Mark on the plane to Ceduna he had never been away from us, how would he cope with the flight and being away from mum and dad? He rushed across the tarmac raced up the stairs into the plane without a backward glance; we were left waving and gazing into space.

Mark loved open spaces, I distinctly remember as a toddler driving in the country we stopped to stretch our legs. Mark went berserk running as fast as his little legs would allow up and back around and around an empty paddock as if he had just discovered the universe. Mark would love the spaciousness of the farm.

He did. He absolutely loved this holiday especially the tractor and trucks which Roger let him drive under strict supervision. This holiday had a profound effect on Mark, he came home a happy and exhilarated boy.

Roger and Angie did the same for Shane when he was seven, he also enjoyed the wonderment of the land and its open spaces. _Both Mark and Shane still have a special infinity with their cousins, the farm and country around Penong and visit there with their family and friends at every opportunity._

When Roger and Angie's children came to Adelaide we took twins Shaun, Jodie and younger brother Ty to Rundle Street the hub of Adelaide; it was their first visit to 'the big smoke'. We watched their utter amasement as they stared at the large tall buildings and masses of people scurrying here and there.

"Where are they all going?"

They were agape when they saw their first escalator.

"Look! Moving stairs! We didn't know stairs could move."

"You are just 'country bumpkins'."

"You are just 'city slickers'."

And so the banter went on amongst the kids, and it still does to this day, but with huge respect for each other.

Le-Anne had no desire to go to the farm, though she met a girlfriend from a neighboring farm who invited her to stay, Le-Anne enjoyed her time with this girlfriend but never wanted to go back to the country even for a visit, she is definitely a city girl.

As each child spent time on the farm I relished the idea of not so much mess around the house. I noted the difference each one's absence made to our home life, with Mark away it was so peaceful, no fights but pretty much the same mess, with Shane away nothing seemed much different, except the pantry didn't get emptied so quickly.

The biggest surprise to me was Le-Anne's absence; the house didn't get messy at all. I would never have believed it if it hadn't been proven to me. Le-Anne was the untidy one. I had a chuckle when Le-Anne holidaying with a girlfriend she was bringing home for a return holiday rang and abruptly asked "Mum can you tidy up the place before we get home."

"Le-Anne there is nothing to tidy up when you aren't here."

Although I enjoyed the comradeship of social tennis I yearned to play competitively. I had the opportunity to join the Eastern Districts Tennis League. We shared the courts with Campbelltown High School, practice times were after school on weekdays and matches were played Saturday afternoons.

Six men and four women made up the team playing a singles match each and consecutively two ladies and three men's doubles. The other girls were much better than me. I played fourth, we four girls never lost a set but the six guys seldom won a set consequently we never won a match. I often told the guys we were being held back because they weren't good enough.

My doubles partner Margaret a single mother (unusual in the seventies) was a nurse, very sensible and practical. One day we were playing our doubles, I was sure my periods had arrived I felt I was bleeding and it was showing under my short skirt. I worriedly whispered to Margaret "I think I have just got my period."

"Just play on." she said "it's probably just excitement."

She was right. How wise she was. I had never had anyone assess me or talk to me as blatantly as she did. I hadn't even realised how I could become so 'wet' without bleeding, and in the midst of a tennis match to be told in such a straightforward manner, I respected her. We never lost a set of tennis she was a good back liner I was the net player and fluked a few winners.

I still kept in touch with our social tennis friends and joined all their social activities. The competitive club also held social functions, mainly to raise money for the club which we liked to support, these were also fun.

I realised at cabarets after a day in the sun at tennis we girls all had various sun burnt shapes around our necks showing above our evening frocks wider necklines. I didn't like the look of it, so I designed and made tennis tops similar to what I would wear that evening, eventually I made a strapless top which gave me no sun marks, far more practical but I had to be sure it wouldn't fall down as I volleyed the high balls so I made shoe string straps I could hook to the top at various positions to be sure my modesty was secure while alleviating the chance of getting telltale white strap marks over my shoulders.

I was proud of my unblemished tanned shoulders; I was also proud of my unblemished Maslin Beach tanned body which no-one knew I had. OH! Except my doctor! He was horrified when he examined me when I had a white bikini bottom shape on my otherwise tanned torso showing how tanned I was.

"You get far too brown for a natural freckly redhead, my girl."

After spending many hours sun baking nude at Maslin Beach I was dreading his lecture about my all over tan. I was amased when he said nothing. Being tanned all over with no telltale white bikini line he obviously didn't notice.

We now had a wide range of friends. Our social life was exciting and wonderful. I loved the variety of friends we had accumulated; our social life was full-on. I especially loved cabarets; I loved the music, the dancing and especially the flirting. I'm afraid I was a terrible flirt, always with Bill nearby as my safety net. I had absolutely no intention of it going further than the dance floor. This was an unwritten unsaid rule amongst our friends; well it was in my mind.

So... I was very surprised when one day a tradie I knew had his staff deliver some surplus materials which he knew we needed (I had mentioned it on the dance floor), I thought he had a good memory and was kind of him to have these goods delivered.

One afternoon I answered a knock on the front door, I was totally absorbed in drafting and cutting out a frock and by chance fully dressed having just returned from a meeting. I was stunned to see the tradie with more materials to give me.

"Oh! Thank you. This is way better than flowers."

I was so touched. I felt honored he cared enough to bother to give us the goods be though it surplus to his needs.

"Will you meet me tomorrow night?" he asked.

"No I can't. I am happily married"

"So am I."

This statement "so am I" sealed the deal. I spent every weeknight at home alone, my days were busy with same as mundane chores; though busy I was seeking something (maybe June was right). I was actually lonely in my marriage. I dared accept this offer... of the unknown?  
Exciting!

I met him. I knew it was very wrong, but the daring and excitement of the venture was too luring for me to refuse. The whole experience for me was like a breath of fresh air, suddenly my busy mundane life came alive with anticipation and excitement.

These trysts sexually stimulated me something fierce which was a crazy new feeling for me. I never experienced the fulfillment of orgasms in this new relationship consequently I came home from these trysts and virtually raped Bill. I loved Bill all over again, the extra stimulation worked wonders for me. I relished the idea of another man thinking I was special.

I asked the tradie "Why me?"

"You gave me the 'come on' while dancing at the cabaret."

"But I dance with everyone like that." I protested.

He was shattered.

Bill obviously noticed my newfound exuberance and sexual drive. He seriously said to me "I don't know what you are doing, but keep doing it. Stay happy."

The very married tradie and I enjoyed an absolutely non-committal relationship seeing each other maybe once a fortnight or month. It was so non-committal and spasmodic it became unbearably frustrating for me. I knew I had to endure these strange unfamiliar feelings alone, although Bill benefited from this 'extra' relationship I couldn't talk to him about it. I wished we could have discussed it, but I dared not.

I was so invigorated and becoming wantonly daring. It gave me great pleasure one cold day to be as daring as I could possibly ever be. Our club tennis courts at Campbelltown High School needed resurfacing. I was given the job of negotiating the deal because I personally knew the person who could do the job.

I, as the club representative met at the courts with the school representative and the Municipal Council representative, both seemingly influential business men. It was a freezing cold day; I was snuggled up in my warm lapin fur coat and knee long high heeled boots... not a stitch else.

The feel of the cool satin lining on my naked body sent trembling shivers through me. I carefully clutched this coat so tight around me to avoid it opening, it must not flip open. It must not be revealed I am nude under this coat. To me nudity was normal but I just couldn't imagine what these guys would have thought had they known of my state of dress or undress... _They are still totally oblivious to my lack of attire... unless they read this and can cast their minds back to that day in the mid-seventies._

" _You didn't know I was naked under that Lapin fur did you?"_

The deal was successfully negotiated. I was given the nod of approval to have the courts resurfaced with the school and council sharing the costs.

NO! I did NOT flip open my coat. I negotiated the deal with NO fringe benefits. I never ever used my femininity in business, well not consciously anyway.

Boy! The mind now boggles as to what I may have achieved if I had???

Of course I couldn't possibly keep this exciting escapade to myself, as it happened I was on my way to meet the tradie. He was absolutely shocked by my brazenness. I also told my friend who was resurfacing the courts and his wife, they were good friends they wouldn't tell anyone, especially Bill. I knew they wouldn't betray me.

My self-confidence was bursting. I was learning to appreciate who I was. I knew I could achieve any goal I set for myself and confidently overcome all challenges put before me.

BUT! I must never forget my status in our marriage. I must always keep Bill propped on his pedestal, or else I was in trouble.

I knew I had to curb my newfound confidence and my new found sexual desires. I knew I must get sexual fulfillment within my marriage which I did every morning, Bill was happy to wake up and obliged but my sexual frustration wasn't appeased. Bill was always willing but it was over too quick, I was left wanting and in a constant state of frustration.

Bill was sexually satisfied and basking in the throes of my newfound sexual desires but I felt I wanted more, though I didn't know what.

I would love to have freely been able to talk to Bill about my feelings but I knew it would make him feel inadequate if he thought he wasn't the perfect lover; beside I had spent our entire marriage boosting his ego and sexual prowess by faking orgasms. I simply couldn't tell him the truth it would shatter him and I feared for his mental health, and my wellbeing.

I loved reading. I found myself searching for books with sexual innuendos, the more sex the better. These books stimulated me with sexual desires that were alien to me. I couldn't get enough of them.

I well remember a book called "Don't be a Wife. Be a Mistress". What a brilliant book. I read and reread it. I tried to put to practice what I read. It was fun pretending to be a mistress to my husband it put a whole new slant to our marriage. I wanted to be a good wife to Bill, I felt sexy. I was in my thirties, the most sexual time in a woman's life according to June's theory. I think she was right.

The sexual stimulation seemed to transgress right through my body to my boobs I could literally feel them growing. I was delighted with the results. The 'lovely shaped" boobs I was told by Mrs. Oats and Mrs. Coates when a teenager had flattened after the birth of my children but now were slowly coming back. I believe sexual stimulation increased by wearing no bras stimulated a natural growth. _It may be interesting to note after years of wearing no bra I now have more than adequate boobs, but still prefer to wear no bras, and I do with certain outfits (wear no bra.)_

I was continually stimulated who would have thought? Certainly not me! I had fantasies about being with a man other than my husband. What would it be like? I seemed to always be left wanting, longing for... I didn't know what!

I was getting ridiculously stimulated from the occasional meetings with the tradie after which I would come home and make love with Bill, it was good but it was over too quick, if I didn't reach an orgasm very quickly I missed out and had to satisfy myself with a limp dick.

I was getting past the days of pretending to have an orgasm. I wanted the real deal... whatever that was. I guess that's why I was a terrible flirt, though not with the intention of taking my flirtations any further than just that, an innocent flirt and feeling 'sexy'.

Feeling continually sexually aroused I yearned for total satisfaction. I was always left wanting, Bill reached his orgasm so quick just as I was beginning to enjoy our love making. I dreamed of having an orgasm with penetration of an erect penis, not the limp leftovers. Never mind I was secure in the knowledge Bill was readily available for daily love making even on days when I had overstepped my station and had been strongly chastised and abused by him, he always apologised and became a loving husband again.

I was feeling so wanton and sexual, Bill was happy to accommodate but the more we made love the more I wanted. I was in a continual frustrated state of mind, I was yearning for something, I knew not what...

I was invited to a ladies lingerie party at a friend's home. Most of the underwear was pretty and practical but some I was agog at, men's ball warmers, ladies nipple-less bras and crutchless knickers all with an absolutely ridiculously high price tag. I value a garment on the amount of fabric involved and there was very little fabric in these risqué items. I was quietly stimulated with the daring of this underwear, but stifled my feelings.

A few days later while searching in my fabric scraps bag for a remnant to make a school library bag, I pulled out a tiny odd shaped scrap of black sheer organza. I held it up, it looked similar to the shape of the expensive crutchless knickers I had imbedded in my mind from the party; this scrap of fabric seemed to be telling me to make it up.

I searched on and found more scraps of the same organza, they were practically telling me how to make these risqué garments. I soon had it worked out and had my sexy crutchless knickers ready to wear. Wow! How sexy they looked!

Now for some nipple-less bra! I dived through my underwear draw and found a pair of black bra, it would do the job perfectly... if I cut out the nipple area and trimmed it with red lace to match the knickers. I hardly ever wore bra now, so it was no big deal to waste a pair of bra this way; well it wasn't really a waste was it?

I tried on my newly made underwear and was astounded at the transformation of my bodily appearance. I pulled a shift over my head and waited for Bill to come home.

I had the children suitably occupied when Bill finally arrived home. I beckoned him up to our bedroom. There I was standing in my glory in my sexy new "R" rated underwear. He was stunned and speechless, for a moment... then he grabbed me, threw me on the bed, stripped off his clothes and we made the best love we had ever had... though as usual I missed out on the elusive internal orgasm but Bill was very satisfied.

I tried to emulate this scenario in later times but it never had the same impact.

# 

# Chapter 19

## Squash

Squash was the new sport; courts were being built in many suburbs including Campbelltown on Lower North East Road quite near us. Jeanette had coaxed me to play social squash on Tuesday mornings. I was wary after my only stint at squash years earlier with June, though found playing against other beginners enjoyable.

I particularly like squash because I could get twice as much exercise in half the time at squash compared to tennis and as hard as I hit the ball it was never hard enough and it wouldn't be sent over the backstops. I loved squash and the certainty of knowing it wasn't reliant on the weather.

These social mornings included a coach, and crèche. Why wasn't this available when I so desperately needed a crèche before my children started school. The occasional game I played with Jeanette became a weekly event; soon I was playing every opportunity. I was invited to play competitive on a Wednesday morning.

Why not? I wanted to improve, which meant practice and more practice which I was happy to do.

I gave up tennis because tennis was so time consuming compared to squash, squash was way more social and best of all not reliant on the weather. At squash we mixed with the opposition teams always sharing lunch provided by the home team after the morning matches, at tennis the opposing teams sat way apart and never socialised.

I never regretted giving up tennis. It was common knowledge a tennis player can become a squash player, but a squash player finds it difficult to play tennis. I was determined I would become a competent squash player.

The court owners Barry and Evelyn both keen squash players got everyone involved and made us all feel special. They sponsored a squash coach who coached us inclusively on practice days. The club grew quickly with new members clamouring to join. Evelyn an excellent PR lady, and pleasantly bossy, told us we were ready to play competitively even if we thought we weren't; we had no choice. Evelyn and Barry contributed greatly to building Campbelltown Squash into one of the largest successful clubs in Adelaide. I was proud to be a part of such a successful club and enjoyed it immensely.

I became absolutely addicted to squash not only for the sports activity but I was able to release some of my sexual frustrations by solid workouts on the courts. I played competition Tuesday night and Wednesday mornings with club practice Saturday, and any other spare time I had.

I felt guilty about playing so often, so I hid my squash gear in the boot of the car so Bill wouldn't realise how often I actually played. He worked at home in the garage and knew my every move, well to and from the house anyway.

Squash competitions and practices turned into massive social events. The small licensed club room was open each night and Saturdays. The night matches sometimes didn't finish until midnight, followed by supper and social drinks which were so much fun. I was lucky to arrive home before 2am.

Bill's only concern was me getting home safely after a few drinks, he warned me to drive clear of the main roads when I had been drinking which was easy to do from the squash courts to our home. Although I invited Bill to come along mostly he chose not to.

"Just make sure you take the back roads home."

One night I was playing a match when the gallery suddenly became empty there was a lot of commotion on the court next to the one I was playing on. When our game finished we discovered a man had collapsed whilst playing, one of the members was performing CPR until the ambulance arrived. The unfortunate man had a massive heart attack and died instantly.

It was said "he was a once a weeker" a dangerous practice without a medical check-up. I thought maybe I should have a check-up.

"I need a check-up Doctor; a man died on the squash court last night and I don't want that to happen to me, so I need to know if I am fit enough to play squash?"

"Wouldn't think so at your age." Doc retorted.

"I want a check-up please."

Reluctantly Doctor checked me over.

"Well everything seems to be perfectly all right, you must have inherited your mother's genes."

"Wow! Thanks Doc that's all I need to know."

I continued playing regularly, consequently my squash abilities improved with so much practice. Each season I was put into a higher division which meant more practice to improve to that division's standard. I felt I was becoming quite fit and giving up smoking surely helped.

Since quitting smoking I never had another cold, bronchitis attack, or any illnesses. If I felt a bit low or felt I was getting a cold, a solid game of squash soon sweated all ills out of me, followed by a hot shower and early to bed with a hot honeyed lemon drink and aspirin.

Each team usually travelled together to compete at other clubs, after the completion of the matches we stayed for supper and drinks before travelling back to our clubs where teams gathered for 'debriefing' and a 'roadie'. There were about thirty teams in our club consequently plenty of players ready to party after their matches.

Teams were made up of four or five, each team played as a team on and off the court. We improved our squash skills and had heaps of fun. I was surely liberated by the exuberance daring and energies of these vibrant players. I was experiencing a new look at life, a different exciting fun filled way of living. Many lasting friendships were made from these fun times.

A lot of hanky panky was happening in the club causing broken marriages and changing of partners. I thought they were a bit over the top and stupid. I had no desire to be part of marriage breakups. I enjoyed squash for what it was, a healthy game. I became fitter than I had ever been. I was also much healthier which I attributed to squash but in hindsight I think giving up smoking also had a huge influence. I was feeling so good.

Jill and I routinely on Friday mornings played social squash at Goodwood Road because the complex had a pool, gym, sauna and spa which the squash players were entitled to use. We loved this venue, after we exhausted ourselves on the squash courts we swam, had a sauna then jumped straight into the cold plunge pool... brrrr, then lay on the spa beds. These spa beds were my survival secret; they had the strongest jets that did wonderful things to me while I comfortably lay on them; you simply positioned yourself so the jets directly titillated your chosen 'G' spots.

We then went to lunch usually at the ABC canteen because the meals were so wholesome and very cheap, we were home before the children arrived from school. I was totally relaxed, physically and bodily spent and in a delicious serene mood. This day of absolute natural therapy became an addiction for me I looked forward to the indulgence these Fridays afforded me; I'm sure they enabled me to breeze through each week of my duties and chores. When telling friends of these wonderful therapeutic days I was inevitably asked "How long do you stay in the spa?"

"Until I orgasm myself out!" I blatantly replied.  
Why aren't these natural relaxants publicised and promoted?  
Why did I have to discover this natural good health remedy by accident? I had surely learned the power of the 'orgasm'; it is the most natural cure for stress in fact I'd bet it's probably the most efficient natural cure for many ailments especially mental health.

Squash allowed me a modicum of freedom when out at night, something I had never experienced without Bill being with me. When the sun goes down a certain mystic takes effect especially if your husband isn't with you. I felt liberated and temporarily free. I watched the flirting and interactions of the players with trepidation: slowly in my mind I accepted what I had previously thought unacceptable behaviour, become acceptable and normal.

Season finals were absolutely great nights especially the social night at the end of the season. The teams went out to dinner to celebrate, when we won a grand final it was an extra special celebration. We always went to a nice restaurant then on to a night spot where we could get up to some mischief, these girlie nights were so special and titillating. It was an unwritten law... what happened on these nights was never repeated to anyone. All the girls were married and happily but it didn't stop us from having fun. Don't worry girls! I'll say no more.

Getting a taste of night life stirred my senses. The housewife in those days was just that, a housewife. Women were the husbands support and backstop, expected to be at home looking after the home and family.

It was accepted in society that men had affairs and mistresses; though woe betides the husband who got caught. I thought I worked like a man therefore I was entitled to men's privileges. I made sure I capably managed our household and businesses and family duties, so felt I was entitled to these nights out with the girls.

Some nights when our squash matches finished early some of us went to a night spot until the usual time of our expected arrival at home. A handsome married business guy and I often went together; there was nothing between us we just needed moral support and company from each other as we partied at popular nightspots.

He was rather a naughty boy he had a secret flat his wife didn't know about which he shared with two other businessmen specifically for their secret trysts; he offered it to me for the same use if I wanted it. I never took the offer up, but the idea sent my senses reeling. I was learning how other people lived.

A daring outspoken lady Germaine Greer a highly educated self-professed feminist was fiercely promoting equality between sexes, she advocated that 'woman should burn their bra' and stand up and demand equality with men. The guys tried to ignore her, the ladies thought it outlandish. But Germaine, a plain, no nonsense, no frills, no makeup lady wouldn't go away; no-one could silence her she became a household name. 'Burning your bra' became a big joke. Who would want to burn their bra?

ME!

Bra was the expected mode of dress, but Germaine got me thinking. "I don't need to wear bra with my small boobs, so damn it I won't. "I didn't. I loved the freedom of no bra.  
Germaine was the instigator in equal rights, equal pay, and equal status for woman.  
Woman up to now didn't have an individual identity.  
Married woman were Mrs. Joe Blogs. I was Mrs. Bill Hoad.

Single woman were 'old maids'.

Women were paid a lower salary than guys even if they were working together doing the same job.

Women weren't encouraged to educate themselves, they would become Mrs. Joe Bloggs and have a husband and kids to look after while the husband provided the living. I was Mrs. Bill Hoad.

Germaine changed my mode of thought.

I felt I was doing typical man jobs, as well as looking after the home and family, therefore I thought I deserved some of the privileges men enjoyed... well there is nothing wrong in thinking!

An impossible dream for me! I would so have loved the luxury of simply working and running our businesses earning the living and being waited on hand and foot by 'a wife' as the man of that day was.

Yes! An impossible dream for me! Who would do the cooking cleaning washing etc. if I fully assumed the role of the provider? Certainly not Bill, that is a 'woman's job' that is why he married me. I must plod on, coping with my workload without complaint or upheaval to the family routine or Bill's comfort. I was grateful I could thrash out my frustrations on the squash courts.

Germaine attracted a huge following and the feminist movement took over. Men suddenly found themselves not knowing whether they were Arthur or Martha. Women took advantage of this re-awakening of women's rights. I was happy to use woman's rights issues to a point, but I still preferred the benefits of being a woman. I never professed to be or act as a feminist, but I was now feeling more confident in myself as a woman especially with so much promotion about equal status.

It was often said "Behind a successful man is a good woman."

This was quite true; you only had to observe a successful couple and witness the professionalism and dedication of the wife who of course remained dutifully subservient catering to her husband's every whim. Feminists encouraged young woman to utilise their capabilities for their own betterment, thus more and more woman were studying to become successful business people. Men found it confronting to have qualified women competing for their previously male only domain positions.

Young women were now encouraged to be well educated and pursue a career in their own right. Young men would grow up accepting that woman were equal, the men of my generation would never accept it, they weren't about to give up their comfortable nests and be subservient to their woman.

It was becoming acceptable for females to be ambitious in their own right for their own personal betterment. It was up to the male to meet the standards of his lady and accept those standard which in some cases was difficult because very often the woman were becoming more successful than the men, who found this scenario hard to accept; after all they had been the superior sex since Adam and Eve days. They 'knew' females as lesser beings put on this earth primarily to comfort and nurture and in some cases as virtual slaves to the human male species.

The males of my generation found it virtually impossible to change and why should they upset the very comfortable lifestyle they had trained their wives to provide; a well-run happy home where the house was always clean and immaculate when they got home from work, three home cooked meals on the table each day and a willing whore (well in many cases not so willing but dutiful) in bed each night; in return the male provided the sole income and in many cases the wife was the financial juggler budgeting to stretch the finances to the maximum.

The wife who was happy to continue in the role of subservience and was content within her safe and comfortable cocoon, was fortunate if her husband appreciated her and remained faithful, but often husbands after twenty or thirty years of marriage suffered 'change of life' and took on serious mistresses eventually getting caught or wanting to start a new life with a new younger lady. These devoted home body wives were left shattered. Starting a new life in the single world was totally alien to these genteel middle-aged subservient women.

These changing times caused much angst amongst woman of this era, they had never considered a life without their lifelong partner whom they had promised to "love and obey until death do us part" in their marriage vows.

Woman were expected to accept their 'lot' in a marriage and be grateful they had a man to provide. Divorce could only be granted on grounds of adultery, insanity or unreasonable behavior and was extremely difficult to obtain, usually through lengthy court cases requiring absolute proof of the grounds; certainly not a process for the faint hearted, it was grueling, lengthy, expensive, and stressful.

The most common grounds for divorce was adultery because proof was easiest. Many partners who suspected adultery hired private detectives to get photographs as proof; with solid evidence a divorce was more likely to be granted.

Because divorce was so difficult women seldom left their husbands unless it was to escape from a physically dangerous marriage and fear for themselves and their children's safety. The Government provided no means of support for a separated mother and children, and separation from marriage simply wasn't accepted in that era's society. To me separation was a nonevent, too much was stacked against it, divorce was a dirty word.

We woman were expected to be content within our marriage and 'obey'. Woman who did have the balls to leave their husband taking their kids with them usually suffered insurmountable turmoil in their marriage so much so they decided a life struggling on their own was preferable to the unhappy and dangerous situation they were tolerating with their husband. If they had the guts they would take their husband to court for 'unreasonable behaviour' but needing proof and the whim of the male judge was always risky. Indeed it was extremely difficult and stressful to obtain a divorce.

It was a sad situation when a husband or wife fell for some-one else and wanted to marry them. These situations caused so much spite, hate, upheaval, shame and resistance, sometimes taking many years of disputes at great expense through the courts; these families suffered immeasurably especially their children, so much so these separations were rare. A marriage in those days was expected to be forever.

Late in this decade began the trend for long term marriages breaking down. Society was beginning to accept marriage breakdowns, instead of classing divorcee's in the 'no-hopers' file they were accepted and the government began supporting deserted woman and made divorce a simple procedure. As the years passed it became easier to divorce than to work on making a success of a marriage.

Couples were capitalising on the ease of divorce without thought of ramifications especially to the children these breakups inevitably affected. The grass was greener on the other side.

It wasn't only becoming easy to get a divorce but dare I say it... it was becoming acceptable. In the past a wife promised to love and obey, and did so, accepting her lot in life usually as a slave to her husband who could be charming and fair, or dictative and brutal, or both, depending on the social necessities.

Marriage was a lottery entered into without really knowing one another. The only opportunity to get to know your future husband was the engagement period and no respected couple lived together until after the marriage ceremony. It simply wasn't acceptable for couples to live together before marriage. Men expected to marry a virgin.

A favourite saying in those days "You don't really know a person until you live with them."  
HOW TRUE!

Squash was popular because it afforded a healthy reprieve for housewives who were just that, housewives and mothers whose job it was to look after the home, children and husband or should I say husband, children and home? These women (including me) who had promised to "obey" became bored and enjoyed the outings while having their kids looked after in a crèche the club provided.

Many friendships were formed between the players, we'd not only play squash but socialise over lunches as well, it was a great way for us to while away a day while the husbands were at work, after all many of the husbands were usually 'lunching' too... all in the name of 'business', long lunches were quite the norm AND...tax deductible in those days.

These were the days with many FBT's (fringe benefit taxes) which were utilised to the extreme. Many times we girls were lunching beside tables of businessmen also 'lunching' who stayed on late into the afternoon; we know they were businessmen because we were often asked to join them consequently getting to know them. What fun we had. Squash offered me many added bonuses including seeing how other people socialised; it all went into my memory bank.

I LOVED SQUASH

# Chapter 20

## Hoad Woodcarving Academy

Bill was content to be left alone to do his designing and woodcarving classes which had expanded to most nights of the week at different schools; he was popular with the students from all walks of life, mainly businessmen and housewives. Woman who stayed at home were excited to have such an interesting hobby, it was a welcome change from the boring mundane daily chores of looking after the home, children and pampering their husbands.

Germaine's influence wasn't readily accepted by conservative women, these were still the days women supposedly had the children bathed and ready for bed, dinner prepared dressed to the nines waiting with her husband's favorite drink to welcome him home from a hard day at work. A clever housewife could achieve this with ease leaving plenty of time for her to rest and relax.

Bill's classes were popular because they enabled students to make exquisite valuable furniture while enjoying their hobby and social interacting with other like-minded adults. Classes at the schools were running at full capacity with a waiting list of hopeful 'woodcarvers'.

Our property at George Street Norwood became vacant Bill suggested the downstairs area would make an ideal classroom if walls were knocked out. He decided it was time to run his own woodcarving classes where he was able to teach in one location and leave all his teaching aids in the class room instead of packing them in his car after each class at different locations. And he would be able to conduct day classes to cater for the many affluent bored housewives who were waiting for vacancies to join his classes; he would be the first to offer day time hobby classes.

The upstairs of Norwood when blocked off from downstairs would make ideal offices we could lease out; another income! It was all too obvious! Let's do it!

We set about putting these plans into motion. An engineer's report on the feasibility of knocking out the walls reported "No problems!"

We had walls of three of the four rooms knocked out, the fourth room was left as a machine and storage room for kits. We worked tirelessly. Bill did most of the work, he built cupboards and a mezzanine floor in the store room, he made benches specially to fit the rooms, and higher than the school benches; more suitable for adult students. I painted the new benches and the plastered walls and ceilings. We both worked tirelessly.

The only stumbling block we encountered was Norwood/Kensington Council as it was then, they objected for stupid unnecessary reasons (to our plain common sense thinking).

We invited the Mayor Jack around to see what we were doing; he came when I was up the ladder painting the high ceilings and Bill up to his eyeballs in sawdust. Jack was amased!

"Good on you, you are a couple of kids doing a great job. You should be encouraged. I'll see what I can do."  
His recommendations to Council were approved.  
We were legally able to proceed with our plans to establish Hoad Woodcarving Academy.

We applauded Jack, he was a Mayor and a spokesman for his ratepayers, and he got out and about with the people and solved their problems in a commonsense manner. This property was next door to the Council Chambers and Town Hall which may have or not have been beneficial to us.  
We worked tirelessly; soon the building was ready to start lessons.

Upstairs we leased to solicitors, very beneficial as it turned out no-one ever gave us trouble with solicitors on the premises. On the odd occasion if required these tenants were happy to write letters which achieved instant results for us.

Downstairs was ready for woodcarving students. I was concerned after all our dramatic extensive renovations the students wouldn't follow Bill to private premises where they would have to pay more. Bill was totally unconcerned; he was confident they would all transfer to Hoad Woodcarving Academy.  
They did.

The daytime classes were a huge success, not only productively but socially as well. Bill was a hit. The ladies loved him and coaxed him into designing more special designs for them. I watched with amused interest as they worked their ways with him and wondered how long they could continue to charm him into producing new designs; he did not like to be pressured. These ladies perseverance attributed to the wide variety of designs Bill produced.

I decided I would use the classrooms for sewing classes on evenings when there was no woodcarving. Bill liked the idea of utilising the Academy to its utmost. I thought I would teach people not only to sew, but to draft and design as well.

I bought sewing machines for those who didn't bring their own, though most brought their own. I had two classes a week some friends and some responding from small Ads in the local paper. I sailed into teaching with great confidence. I would teach all the tips I had learned from my years of sewing, stuff that couldn't be found in textbooks. I was sure they'd be so grateful to benefit from my experience.

What a shock I got. I assumed everyone automatically knew the basics of sewing, I assumed they knew what I thought was basic general sewing knowledge which I realised then I must have been gifted with.

As I instructed the basics of sewing, cutting, drafting, designing and attempted to teach drafting a basic bodice I just could not believe how difficult, in fact impossible it was for the students to grasp. Simple (to me) basic instructions they couldn't comprehend. I thought 'either they are stupid or I am clever'.

I knew most of these folks weren't stupid; especially my friends I knew were intelligent capable people. I realised that I must have been clever, (well at sewing anyway) no-one had taught me any basics, in fact no-one had ever shown me anything about dressmaking. I only knew what I learned from books through the correspondence course and the knowledge I had gained from years of experience.

I persevered with these classes; the students were proud of their finished products. It was hard work for me. I was relieved when Bill needed the time slots to cater for more woodcarving classes.

HWA thrived. Bill worked at the Academy from waking hours till close. I say waking hours because working most nights he needed to sleep in when possible. I believed in getting as much sleep as possible, contrary to mum who spent her life 'digging' everyone out of bed at dawn.

"Get up, it is time to rise and shine."

"Yes mum, in whose opinion?"

Mum always went to bed with the birds and the sun, consequently she was ready to rise and shine at daybreak. I find now I am like my mum (gee I hate that).

'Early to bed early to rise, makes a man healthy wealthy and wise' I learned at a young age. I encourage sleeping in even though I can't.

I digress. HWA didn't only thrive it became well known and very popular, it was the only private woodcarving classes in Adelaide in fact probably Australia at that time. It was quite amasing because the classes were conducted in a virtual basement hidden from the street with absolutely no signage or telephone connected (no mobile phones then).

HWA became so popular that Bill couldn't possibly conduct enough classes to meet the demand. Classes were held most mornings afternoons and evenings.

There were some standout students in the classes including Brian whom Bill invited to take over some of the classes. This worked well. It allowed Bill time to design new pieces of furniture and produce the cedar and mahogany kits for the students to carve which Bill assembled after the students completed the carving. Some students went to French polishing and upholstery classes completely finishing their prized piece of furniture, but most had it professionally finished and got on with carving their next project. Bill recommended a French polisher and upholsterer both executing their crafts in the traditional way thus complimenting the prized work of the students.

The students produced many valuable unique pieces of furniture of which they were justifiably proud. I was also proud of the student's achievements, I thought they were so clever, especially Bill for establishing such a successful rewarding business. In our wildest dreams we couldn't have planned it any better, in fact it wasn't planned at all, demand and pushy women cajoled Bill into developing this method of teaching and starting this business. He often said "I wish they'd leave me alone to work at my own pace. I can't keep up to them."

Brian a young charismatic character was a cabinetmaker and became a competent instructor self-sufficient and independent, too much so for Bill. They didn't agree on many issues mainly who was the boss. Brian was a capable efficient worker who had his own ideas.

There was a huge falling out. Brian left and started his own woodcarving classes in an old church he leased at Bowden, most of his students went with him, never mind there was still plenty left for Bill, more than enough he was pushed beyond his limits

Copyright became a huge issue. The designs Brian was teaching were all Bill's. These designs were the success of the Academy. Little was known about copyright, there weren't strict copyright laws then and those that existed were ignored.

We sought professional advice and found designs Bill drew were automatically covered by copyright. Bill was prepared to go to court and freehand draw in front of the judge and defy the offender to do the same. Brian would have to teach his own designs. We never took our case to court, we didn't have to, we simply spread the copyright word around and it soon reached the offenders.

"Bill has the right to confiscate and destroy any of Hoad designs being used or copied without his written authority."

Confident his designs weren't likely to be stolen Bill trained another capable student to instruct. Tom Ellwood a retired businessman we knew had no aspirations to make a career of teaching he was a safe and as it turned out perfect choice. Tom took over the morning and evening classes, a huge load off Bill. Tom became a popular capable and competent instructor.

Hoad Woodcarving Academy was so unique I thought it worthy of publicity. I rang the Sunday Mail, the only Adelaide Sunday newspaper. A reporter went to the Academy, he was impressed. So impressed, a two-page feature article was published in this widely read paper. There were pictures of Bill teaching the students, of the students carving and the furniture they made. There was no address or phone number mentioned in the article.

On the morning the article was published we were woken by the telephone. The phone didn't stop all day. Bill never answered the phone, he disappeared to the Academy and locked himself away where he was able to ignore knocks at the shuttered windows and able to quietly continue with his designing. The kids had to get their own meals. I never ate. I never had a chance the phone rang continually all day.

"How can I join these classes?"

When can I start woodcarving lessons?"

"How wonderful, I have been looking for a hobby. When can I start?"

"Where are the classes held?"

"At last I have got hold of you; I have been trying all day."

And so the inquiries continued.

I was taken totally by surprise; I couldn't believe so many people troubled to find our home phone number especially on a Sunday. Bill and Tom were already working at full capacity. All I could do was take details of the callers and promise to get back to them when a vacancy became available. By 6pm I was so exhausted and hungry I left the phone off the hook. I needed to shower and get dressed as I was still in my night attire and I needed to eat something. These phone calls continued all day Monday, petering off slightly as the week went on.

Bill was pushed beyond his capabilities; it was all too much to quick.

"I need help?" he said many times.

"Employ it." I said.

Finally he got through to me he wanted my help. What could I do? I knew nothing about woodcarving; this was strictly Bill's domain. I didn't want to know anything about woodcarving; I knew if I did I'd be doing that as well as everything else.

I tried to help, he had me tracing patterns and doing menial tasks. I couldn't work with him; he did everything so slow and methodical. I was the opposite, I worked at flat out pace exercising my well-honed time management skills taking every short cut possible, plus more. This didn't suit Bill at all, he worked very slow and very thorough, finally he delegated me to do the cleaning. Good.

One day I had my head down cleaning, not wanting to be seen in my tatty cleaning clothes when an important businessman came in needing our signature. Bill pointed to me

"Ask her. She owns the place."

I could have murdered him. How dare he? Surely he could have at least signed a document.

It became obvious we had to start more classes to cater for the hopefuls on the long waiting list. Bill asked three other standout students if they would like to become instructors? They gratefully accepted and became competent and popular, they took over the afternoon and evening classes from Bill and started new classes.

There were now morning afternoon and evening classes, all time slots were full, we needed more classes so we slotted in twilight classes each week night.

There were now four classes each weekday and two classes Saturday mornings. The instructors each collected the fees from their classes and paid us a percentage. Bill was only interested in designing and producing kits for the students to purchase he didn't want anything to do with administration.

The instructors were virtually provided a business, we didn't class them as employees, and this agreement suited Bill. I mostly kept away from the Academy it was Bill's domain, his business, my only contribution was answering the phone (at home) cleaning, banking, paying of accounts and looking after our other rental properties which along with our home and family and the kid's hobbies I was busy though I managed to always find time to fit in playing squash and sewing, mind you I never wasted a minute.

Bill now spent all his time at the Academy, especially on weekends when there were no classes and he could work without interruption cutting out kits on the band saw for the students to purchase.

The extra classes and students greatly increased the demand for kits. John Plum a retired businessman and brilliant student carver offered to help. John was a lifesaver to Bill also a good friend and adviser, he expertly took over production of the kits. Bill was so grateful.

We learned the best employees (helpers as they were for us) were retired people; their use by date was up in the general work force while their skills and experience were at a premium. They had much still to offer and were grateful for the opportunity to expend their skills in their own time without any pressure and usually just for the love of it. We treasured these special folks we got to know as they attended classes and offered their services.

My jeweler friend showed me some diamonds, tiny bits of glass it seemed but he assured me they were perfect diamonds, unbelievably valuable and bargain priced, though I didn't think the hundreds of dollars he quoted was such a bargain for these small bits of shiny glass. I was getting rather bold, the Academy was running successfully, so when he showed me a lovely gold earring setting and said he'd set a diamond in it for me at a reduced price. 'Damn' I thought 'I will pay myself with this special diamond stud made just for me.'

I bravely had my ear pierced, the stud looked stunning in my ear above my every day earrings and I didn't feel one bit guilty with my extravagance, I had saved tradesman wages with the work I'd done painting and establishing the Academy besides I made all my clothes as well as the children's. I told myself I deserved this diamond stud. I was becoming quite assertive and Bill never questioned it. I still wear that diamond in fact I never take it out of my ear. I love it.

As time went on Kensington Park flats needed structural maintenance, the exterior staircase needed replacing no way was I capable of doing it, Bill didn't have time and wasn't prepared to do it anyway, tenants were becoming scarcer and fussier and there was now an influx of rental properties. We decided it was probably time to sell the flats. I was happy about that; three less flats for me to look after.

We auctioned the property. This was an education for us novices at real estate being the first property we sold. The reserve price was $47,500 (remember this property cost six thousand pounds, $12,000). The bidding was fast and entertaining with the price rising by the second, though hard as I tried I couldn't fathom what was actually happening. The bidding reached $42,500. The auctioneer stopped, he quietly said to us "Look, there is only one genuine bidder, I don't know how far I can push him; you may have to settle for less than your reserve."

We agreed.

He pushed the sole bidder to $45,000.

"SOLD."

Our first home, the one dad had bought for us before we were married had served its purpose. It was better suited as flats than a home anyway; it certainly afforded us a good income and allowed us to move on establishing ourselves.

We hadn't (well I hadn't) given a thought what to do with such a substantial sum of money, the property was freehold. Before settlement the agent said "I have a home unit just come on the market you should buy. It's on Grandview Grove at Toorak Gardens, it's only $16,000."

"Toorak Gardens Wow! The elite suburb, that's a bargain!"

The clever agent knew we had money coming to us. We bought it without even looking through; the area sold it to us, it was a lovely unit in a prime suburb and only a few bus stops from Rundle Street, the main street in Adelaide. A young gentleman who worked at an Adelaide's Building Society leased it for his mother to live in.

"What a lovely man." I thought.

This lovely man was instrumental in promoting that Building Society to merge with another financial institution of which he was CEO for many years. He eventually bought our unit for his mother to live in, providing security for the rest of her life.

Bill found a small factory type shed in Salter Street Kensington for sale. It enjoyed 'existing use' rights for light industry, invaluable for us, exactly what he needed for a cabinetmaking factory. It would be ideal for Bill to produce the furniture kits, thus leaving the machine room at the Academy free for storage.

Mark would soon be school leaving age and jobs were hard to get, we knew Mark would be a valuable employee though he would find it hard to get a job without qualifications. Bill wanted Mark to work for him "rather than some other lucky snoozer."

I thought the factory would be a good employment opportunity for Mark when he left school. We bought this factory at Kensington for $20,000.We now owned in place of our flats a lovely unit and a factory absolutely suited to our needs with enough cash left over to fit the factory out, Bill was incredibly happy.

Times were tough, many businesses had been forced to close including a cabinetmaking factory; we attended the clearance auction. Bill was the main bidder and purchased good quality near new machinery at a ridiculously low prices, he knew the true value of the machines and was extremely happy with the purchases. I felt for the unfortunate seller who virtually gave away his business. Someone's loss is another one's gain.

Bill established our new factory; he was an incredibly happy boy with his new expensive toy where he could work without interruption from the students. It was only a few blocks down the Norwood Parade to our Academy and virtually next door to Mark's school Marryatville High. It was perfect. Mark often called in after school and helped with machining.

The EH Holden panel van Bill used for the academy was a mongrel to drive compared to the Jag, it didn't have power steering I was exhausted after driving it, Bill also agreed it was a mongrel and decided he should also have a nice car. He bought an eighteen month old Chrysler Royal panel van, it was bright orange had a V8 engine with the rare luxury of air conditioning and power steering rarely seen in motor cars then, this car was state of the art with all the latest mod cons and best of all it was tax deductible as was most of our purchases.

We seldom spent money on ourselves it was always for the businesses even the Jag I used for business. Bill was very happy with his new car. He made attractive advertising boards which he attached to the roof rack. Next door to our factory was a signage business who did all our signage at 'mates rates' so Hoad Woodcarving Academy was professionally displayed. Bill loved that Chrysler he knew he had purchased a very good car; he maintained the motor would way outlast the body. How right he was.

Steve in "Renault" taking us girls for a 'scenic' drive up and down and up and down Aldinga Beach

Bill also found a newly built 'genuine' replica 1908 Renault on a Volkswagen motor, he suggested it would be good for advertising, economical to run and costing only $2000. We still had enough left over from the sale of the flats to buy this. Our signage neighbor at the factory professionally printed our business name all over this unusual not to be unnoticed car. The removable top was rarely on; I loved to drive it without the top and drove it everywhere on suitable days. The only gauge on the dashboard was the speedometer which I liked, I never took notice of gauges anyway except the petrol gauge, but there wasn't even a petrol gauge.

I carried a shortened broom handle to poke into the tank to measure the fuel. Yes! I did forget to check and run out of petrol twice which was most inconvenient, no mobile phones ;then.

This strange, unusual vehicle attracted so much attention; I think everyone in Adelaide now knew of Hoad Woodcarving Academy, it was great publicity.

One morning my friend Judy rang "It's too nice a day to go to work today, I'm taking a sickie. Do you want to spend the day at the beach?"

"Yes! Why not? You know the only beach I'll go to is Maslins!"

"That's okay. The only trouble is I don't have a car my husband has taken it today."

Our Jag was in for a service. "I've only got the 'genuine' 1908 Renault replica to drive today."

"That's okay."

Off Judy, Fleur and I set for Maslins Beach, a one-hour drive, dressed in our bikini's and beach hats in this unusual very conspicuous open top car. As we were driving down Magill Road many friends recognised us, we gaily waved to them as they stared in astonishment shaking their heads in dismay. By the time we arrived at Maslins we had a trail of cars following. It was so amusing. We had a lovely relaxing day at the beach then happily drove home both relishing in the attention we attracted.

Mum's brother and two sisters all died when they were seventy-two. When mum was approaching seventy-two she asked "Do you think I should sell up and move into a nursing home?"

"Do you feel as if you can't cope with your home and yard? Is it too much for you to manage?"

"NO."

"Well don't then. You'll know when you can't manage your home and want to leave it."

When a spout of elderly people living alone were attacked without provocation, mum became alarmed, I knew this worried her and though she was still healthy and fit she felt vulnerable living alone so decided to move while she was still able to do so.

She was seventy-four when she sold and moved back to a newly built Retirement Village in Ceduna where she could easily drive the 60kls along Highway One to her original farm to visit Roger and Angie and her grandchildren. Roger was shaping up to be a successful farmer, mum was impressed. Angie had written to mum every week keeping her informed I think mum felt she had more of a relationship with Roger and Angie than with us and I understood, I was closer to mum through letters than face to face.

Mum asked me to drive to Ceduna with her to inspect the new village; she had traded her Holden Sedan in for a smaller model Holden the new Gemini, she had remained true to Freeman Motors always driving a Holden. Her Gemini was seven months old when we drove to Ceduna I had never driven it I loved my Jag; I lowered my standards to drive a humble Gemini.

We enjoyed a comfortable drive to Ceduna, I was surprised and impressed especially impressed with the economy of the Gemini compared to the Jag. Mum was happy I was impressed she thought the Jag was a most impractical car, so much so that she gave me the Gemini expecting me (I think) to drive it to Ceduna to visit her. Wrong. I hated driving. When we did long trips we went as a family in the Jag.

We moved mum to her new home in Ceduna. The Chrysler carried all her precious pot plants in rare luxury of the car's air conditioning to their new home in a shade house at the Retirement Village.

Mum had a choice of rooms, overlooking the shores and waters of Murat Bay or overlooking the Memorial Park. She chose the sea views.

"But you don't like the sea." I reminded her.

"I don't mind looking at it." she smartly replied.

It was a good choice; it was lovely room in a lovely village full of people she knew. Mum drove to the farm every Monday morning arriving in time to see her grandchildren Shaun, Jodie and Ty off to school.

They drove an old unregistered Ford Prefect on the rough dirt track through the paddocks to meet the school bus on the highway where Roger and I rode our pushbikes to meet our school bus. Mum said the car looked as if it was moving with no-one in it; the kids were too small to be seen. She also said during the mice plagues before the kids got in the car they banged a piece of wood all over it, the mice streamed out of the car, when they were sure most of the mice had evacuated they got in and drove off.

Monday was Angie's wash day; mum always arrived in time to hang the washing on the line outside, continually watching the sky to see if it would rain; in case it did she brought the washing in still damp and proceeded to drape it all over the house to finish drying. I couldn't believe mum could be so impractical, it seldom rained.

When we visited the farm with mum I told her not to bring my washing in, I wanted it to dry properly outside on the clothes line. Years later Angie told me it also bugged her to have damp clothes draped over the house on bright sunny days. Roger told Angie to tell mum not to bring in damp clothes on fine days. Angie wouldn't, thinking mum may not be around for too much longer. For twenty odd years mum brought in Angie's damp washing each Monday rain or shine. What tolerance Angie had.

Mum loved the no responsibility lifestyle of the village where all meals were supplied and served in the dining room. Mum planted and tended a veggie garden for the residents to share, she played the piano for singsongs and church services; she worked voluntarily in the United Church Opportunity Shop; she volunteered for meals on wheels delivering meals to the 'elderly'.

Mum led an active life until she lost her sight in her nineties and couldn't play the piano and had to relinquish her driver's licence, even so she continued her charity work cutting up old clothes donated to the OP Shop that were too tatty for selling. She saved the brightest fabrics to make pillow cases which she stuffed with the remains she had meticulously cut into small pieces making plump colourful pillows to sell. She cut up metres and metres of used clothing fabrics, although she couldn't see she could feel what she was doing and wore out many sets of scissors. These pillows were in huge demand by the local indigenous community; they didn't mind if the pillows were obviously sewn by an almost blind person, when they became dirty and the original color unrecognisable the pillows were readily replaced.

Mum spent the rest of days happily in this village leading an active life even though she also lost her hearing and didn't wear hearing aids because she couldn't see to manage them; but she maintained her fitness, health, dominance and alert mind without any form of medication. So far I have proved Doctor right- I must have inherited mum's genes. Thanks mum xx.

I grew to quite like the Gemini mum had given me; I mostly drove it instead of the Jag for practical reasons, economy and sensibility. Sensibility because I could drive it as hard as I normally drove a car without getting a speeding fine. Every time I drove the Jag I seemed to get a speeding fine I was always in a hurry and drove as fast as the traffic and car allowed. The Gemini when seemingly flat out was still within the speed limits, driving the Jag the same way without total concentration was a sure recipe for a speeding fine; each time the cops pulled me over I cursed myself for my lack of concentration. The cops seemed to think it a joke but still charged me.

# Chapter 21

## Councillor Hoad

An issue over the only factory in Hectorville near our home caused the nearby properties including ours much concern. We contacted the Councillor of our ward. She didn't perform as we felt a Councillor should in fact she contributed nothing to our ward. Council elections were looming. Nominations were being accepted. Our Councillor (the only lady Councillor ever at Campbelltown Council) was up for re-election.

Jeanette our neighbor insisted I should oppose her; she wanted to nominate me as Councillor for the Hectorville Ward in the City of Campbelltown. The second of Hectorville Wards two Councillors didn't live in Hectorville we felt he couldn't possibly have our ward at heart. Hectorville was the oldest suburb in Campbelltown and mostly pushed aside and forgotten with all the attention paid to the newer developing suburbs. That needed changing.

"You would make an excellent councillor. Think about it." Jeanette said.

I did. All night! I tried to find excuses why I shouldn't let my neighbors nominate me. I couldn't really come up with any legitimate excuses.

I took the completed nomination form to the council offices. Mayor Geoff Heath accepted my nomination informing me there were six other nominees including the sitting member. I wanted to withdraw my nomination.

"No!" said Mayor Geoff "We need you."  
He didn't know me. How did he know they needed me?

Steve's promo pic of me 1978 I had henna red hair then

He itemised the other nominees explaining each of their situations including the lady councillor who he said never contributed. I realised yes they did need me.

I started my campaign. I door knocked pretty much every home in my ward handing out pamphlets which 'social secretary' Steve helped me produce. It was a very busy time, but I loved it. I loved being busy especially involved with worthwhile projects and talking to people, it was a refreshing change from managing properties and sewing.

My commitment to the rate payers of Hectorville Ward was "To be your voice in Local Government."

I was surprised when one resident asked me what political party I supported.

"It's irrelevant. This position is nothing to do with politics. I am solely your representative in your council."  
Very different from today, everything is so political.

July 2nd, 1978. Election Day! Nominees had to cease canvassing at midnight the day before election and definitely not be seen canvassing the day of the election.

This day was a day in limbo for me. What do I do? Let's prepare for a party tonight, either a celebration party or commiseration party. The new additions, transformation of our double garage into a rumpus room and second bathroom were ideal for a party and they needed to be christened. All was ready.

Voting closed at 6pm. Votes were counted, results would be announced about 7.30pm depending on the volume and closeness of the votes. We all gathered at the Council Chambers to hear the results.

"Hectorville Ward has a new Councillor with a landslide victory. Eunice Hoad. Congratulations Eunice."  
I had received way more votes than all of the other nominee's votes added together. Mayor Geoff Heath was also re-elected.

"I told you so. Congratulations! Welcome to Campbelltown Council. Your first meeting is Monday night at 7pm." Mayor Geoff said.

My Co - Councillor tentatively asked Bill "Does Eunice drive?"

"Like a mad thing." Bill replied.  
Apparently my predecessor didn't drive, she relied on her co councillor to transport her everywhere; he was obviously fed up. He enjoyed the role reversal; I could see he enjoyed riding as a passenger in my Jag, the car I preferred to drive. It was my baby.

Me Election night at Celebration party

Congratulations were showered on me as we partied at home; many people dropped in including members of Council. The Town Clerk brought a huge ream of notes and reports to be studied for Monday's meeting. I couldn't wait for the celebrations to finish so I could study the reports.

I attended my first meeting with much trepidation intending to listen and watch, I wanted to get the feel of the meetings and procedures, I didn't want to make a fool of myself. I knew the members of council would be waiting for a slip up especially as I was the only woman in the chamber.

I had carefully chosen my wardrobe; well I had to make a full new wardrobe of outfits suitable for these formal meetings especially being the only woman, the clothes I like to wear were way too feminine, sexy, and suggestive for my new role. I dressed with care assuring a dignified business look. I didn't want to give off any sexual vibes. I intended to be particularly careful to project a professional businesslike manner and a dedicated representative for my ratepayers. This was a challenge for me but I was confident I would be able to achieve the persona.

I was amased and quite intimidated by the formality of the meeting. "I must tread carefully here. I don't want to make a fool of myself through ignorance. I will just quietly observe." I told myself.

One item on the agenda was about the eligibility to use the new rubbish transfer station in our City. It was moved that only people residing in Campbelltown could use it.

I couldn't contain myself. Up went my hand denoting I wanted to be invited to speak... with authority.

"Councillor Hoad!"

"Thank you Your Worship. I disagree with only residents of Campbelltown being able to use this transfer station, what about the owner of the property the resident is leasing? The owner pays the rates to provide this transfer station, when the tenant vacates and leaves a mess for the owner/ratepayer who lives out of this Council area to clean up, under the proposal on the table they won't be allowed to deposit rubbish in the bins they have paid for. Your Worship! I put forward an amendment to that motion to include 'ratepayers'."

My amended motion obviously having never been considered but absolutely understood was quickly seconded and passed unopposed.

Whew! That was a close one. I couldn't believe people, all men, could be so lacking in common sense. I knew the problem of landlords I had cleaned up many of our tenants' properties after they vacated in suburbs we never lived in. I would have been furious if I couldn't use the dump where I paid the rates. So much for shutting up and observing!

"You contributed much more tonight than your predecessor did in the four years she was in your position." Mayor Geoff said after the meeting. I knew she didn't do very much for Hectorville Ward that's why I accepted being nominated but, I didn't realise the situation was so dire. Well that was about to change.

We adjourned to an anti-room where supper was laid out, the hot water urn was boiling alongside the neatly displayed tea coffee sugar etc. All eyes looked expectantly at me.

"OH! NO!"

I walked to the fridge, opened it. Bottles of beer, long necks and glasses greeted me; I took a couple of cold bottles of beer out and literally plonked them on the table along with some glasses.

"Who's for a beer?" I asked.

No-one ever expected me to 'make the tea' again. Those who drank tea or coffee could get it. I drank beer. _Long necks held 26 fl oz. 750ml stubbies were not known of then._

South Australian Local Government was never political. The political party the council supported was the one in power at the time because communication and rapport was needed to achieve progress for our ratepayers, haggling unnecessarily over political views was no benefit to anyone, especially the ratepayers.

The Labor Government happened to be in power during my terms as councillor. I have always been a Liberal supporter but it mattered not during my councillor days, thankfully commonsense over ruled and all parties worked on local issues to achieve satisfactory results and solutions as quickly as possible. I cringe these days when so much time energy and resource are wasted over political jargon.

I enjoyed the challenge of Local Government, the foremost being accepted as a member of council not merely the afterthought when the council was addressed.

"Gentlemen of the Council... OH and lady".

It took a long time for members of council to address the council as "Members of Council" instead of "Gentlemen of Council. Oh! And lady."

I knew I had to work twice as hard as any of the men to prove myself. It wasn't very hard because some did nothing.

It was a voluntary position in those days. I think people mostly became Councillors for the power it gave them especially those who were simply a number in their place of employment.

I respected those members of council who genuinely cared for the ratepayer's welfare, especially when there was absolutely no renumerations.

I learned so much. There was much more a council did to benefit the individual than I ever realised. I wanted to spread the word to as many ratepayers as possible; unfortunately a ratepayer seldom contacted council unless there was a problem, like me as an example.

There were very few problems I couldn't solve for my ratepayers, especially simple things like street maintenance; it can't be fixed if it's not brought to the notice of council. I encouraged my ratepayers to ring me any time. I referred all works maintenance directly to our City Engineer; he always thanked me and promptly had the problem fixed.

Issues that needed discussing in meetings I researched. I talked with the ratepayer to understand exactly what their issue was and got it put on the agenda and referred my findings and recommendations to the next meeting in The Chamber. I am proud to say my efforts weren't wasted I was able to get positive results from the support of the majority of council members. If an issue I thought should be solved a certain way wasn't supported by members of the council I asked

"How many of you members of council have actually been to the site and inspected this issue? Those of you who haven't bothered to take the time to look shouldn't even be allowed to have a vote. I propose this matter be adjourned until further inspections; unless my motion on the table is passed."

It took many months of hard continual slather before the members of council accepted me, a mere woman, as an equal. Eventually I proved myself and my recommendations were usually passed unanimously without any fuss, they knew I wouldn't push for something I didn't think was necessary and without a lot of research.

I had so much respect for our Town Clerk Dennis Morrissy. He ruled Campbelltown Council with an iron rod. If he thought us inexperienced mugs in the chamber were out of hand he cleverly without us realising it got us back on track. If he agreed with proposals put to council they went through, if he didn't agree they didn't go through, all the while the members of council thought they were making the decisions of the meetings.

I knew if I wanted something special for my ward I put it past Dennis to gauge his reaction before I bothered bringing it to the meetings. I respected Dennis because I thought his decisions were usually the right ones for the benefit of our City. He lived and breathed Campbelltown.

Dennis refused lucrative offers from other councils preferring to remain at Campbelltown. We were so lucky to have him as our Town Clerk. I was so lucky to be serving in such a well-run Corporation. Dennis was respected by everyone who knew him.

I was surprised to find being a councillor also entailed other responsibilities such as acting as council representative on various committees. I found myself as representative for council on Magill Royal District Nurses Soc; South Australian Council of the Aged; Campbelltown Child Care Centre; secretary of Campbelltown Community Transport Services; and Hiring Officer/Treasurer of Hectorville Senior Citizens two halls owned by the council and leased by many local organisations who didn't always agree. I was busy and I loved it.

I had a personal secret all through my days serving as a councillor at Campbelltown. I couldn't tell anyone involved in council so it's good to now and get it off my chest...

Friday afternoons a huge package at least three inches thick, of notes and reports were delivered to each member of council to study for the meeting the following Monday night. It was obvious by the lack of understanding of some agenda items some members hadn't studied the papers.

Weather permitting (anything from 18deg and no rain) I drove to Maslin Beach with a large sand sheet, beach umbrella, my faithful Fleur and the pile of reports. I set my 'office' down on the sand sheet under the umbrella, took off my single wrap sarong and lay down on the sheet totally naked and studied the notes thoroughly from front to back only taking time out for a quick dip in the crystal clear ocean water to cool down on hot days. I meticulously noted items I needed to research. I was confident I had a good understanding of all the issues on the agenda for the meeting the following Monday. I often wondered what the council members would have thought had they known where I studied these reports.

There were many issues we had to deal with in council. The biggest issue during my term was extra ordinary heavy rains causing devastating flooding, all the creeks flowing from the Adelaide Hills to the River Torrens flooded. First to Fifth Creeks flowed through the eastern suburbs from the surrounding Adelaide Hills.

Third Creek ran right though Campbelltown and caused much damage. This creek was normally a gently flowing trickle, people lucky enough to live near or have it running through their properties proudly incorporated it into their gardens as a feature. These features caused blockages resulting in rushing waters being diverted consequently flooding many homes.

Council realised they must prevent this terrible catastrophe from happening again. Compulsory acquisition of flooded properties or part thereof along Third Creek was paramount to ensure another catastrophe of this magnitude never happened again. Low lying areas of Third Creek were transformed into open free flowing areas allowing the creek to easily flow away, but it caused much anguish for the property owners mostly Italians who valued their land for growing produce.

My Co-Councilor at the time a young Italian lad had easily won the election only a few weeks before the flood. The predominant Italian community voted him in then expected him to miraculously solve the problem without any disruption to their lifestyle. The pressure from the community put on this poor lad was just too much, he resigned after only serving for one year. I encourage Steve Garie to nominate. I thought he would make a good councillor. He did.

I encountered many situations some sad, some happy, some traumatic, some ridiculous but I was rather taken back when a neighbor of ours at Hectorville asked for our street trees to be removed. I knew Italians would rather grow vegetable then trees but these Australian native trees only grew to about twelve feet high spaced about fifty yards apart harmlessly enhancing the curb sides of the road. I couldn't agree with this ratepayer besides I had lovingly watered these trees when we first moved to Hectorville by carrying buckets of water from home along the street to keep them alive. Council agreed with me not to remove them. Strange, but some of the trees bordering the complainant's property later died, they had been ring-barked????

Although we didn't get any remuneration as Councillors there were a few benefits, mainly social. I met a lot of people through council and enjoyed hospitality occasions from Government bodies. Campbelltown Council and our Mayor received allowances for such purposes. I was introduced to the corporate way of doing business. I loved it.

I especially loved the annual Council Ball held in the basketball stadium on Lower North East Road at Campbelltown. The stadium was professionally decorated and transformed into a wonderland to the theme of the Ball, I enjoyed the opportunity to design and make extravagant ridiculously over the top gowns of which I have already mentioned. We were also invited to other Council's Balls but they weren't as elaborate or decadent at our Campbelltown Balls.

Being a councillor entitled me to a non - transferable invite to the annual Woman of the Year Luncheon. This was a formal lunch provided by the Federal Government held in a different capital city each year specifically to say thank you to women volunteers for the contribution they make to society. I attended luncheons in Sydney Melbourne Perth and Adelaide.

My first luncheon was at Windsor Hotel in Melbourne with many well-known celebrities in attendance. Bill and I made a holiday of this trip to Melbourne. Le-Anne instructed me how to remake the outfit I intended to wear to make it fashionably trendy. I felt I looked the part as I tentatively entered the Grand Windsor Hotel ballroom not knowing a single soul.

"Wait a minute I do recognise some-one."

There was Di (Bubbles) Fisher; I had often seen her on television, I caught her eye and she came over to me, she was one of the hostesses and could obviously see I was bewildered, she introduced herself (as if she needed to, and I told her), she ushered me to my allotted table apologising for not being my hostess but introduced me to a young fashion designer, a pregnant mother of two children, who I was in awe of. This vibrant lady's talent and management skills, especially her hostessing skills amased me; she went on to become one of Australia's leading fashion designers.

I really enjoyed this luncheon and afternoon especially the guest speakers all women of high achievements. Lisa Curry (as she was then) a young confident teenager impressed me the most, she had just won gold medals for swimming at the Olympics and was dating Grant Kenny the current Iron Man champion.

I was especially delighted to see Jeannie Little. I felt I knew her, I felt I had an affinity with her. I had to talk to her. She was dressed as extreme as usual and acted exactly the same in reality as on television.

"DARling! What a lovely outfit you have on. Who designed it?" she asked me.

"My daughter Le-Anne, she's just like your Katie."

Jeannie was always talking about her daughter Katie on TV. We had a lovely chat. Jeannie had a big influence on my outlook to life, she attributed to my exorbitant outlook on life. I felt it was okay to be me and okay to act a bit outrageous. I really enjoyed this 'thankyou' luncheon especially meeting so many successful women.

I was gaining more and more confidence in myself but I must remember my marital status. Bill was the head of the house. I must always be sure to assume him that right. I must be astute enough to carry out my many duties whilst seemingly making him my first priority which wasn't so difficult because Bill was happy to spend all his time at either the factory or the Academy.

I served on council for six years and enjoyed every moment, even the annual elections when every second year my position became vacant and I had to nominate for re-election. The second term I won the election from three other nominees, the third term I was elected unopposed. I felt I was contributing to the Hectorville Ward certainly I was very verbal if I needed to be. The gentlemen in council respected me, I had earned that respect.

Equality for women was becoming more prevalent. The introduction of the contraceptive pill in the sixties was the beginning of equality in woman contributing to a lifestyle without the fear of pregnancy, women's attitudes and status were rapidly changing, the pill enabled women to enjoy sex without reservation. Sex wasn't a duty for women any more, they could enjoy the act with the fear of pregnancy eliminated. Bill said many times during the sixties "The pill will be the ruination of the world!" (as he lived it). I believed it greatly aided woman's equality.

Germaine Greer continued her stance and made such a difference. "Burn the Bra" slogan was literally taken on board. Promotions for equal pay for equal work, equal rights of entry into hotels etc. was happening. Men were bewildered, where had the submissive women gone? I loved it. I had the best of both worlds and without being too obvious I used both those worlds. Sure I burnt my bra, but I remained submissive to a point, I had promised to "obey" in my wedding vows hadn't I?...

But I didn't burn all my bra, I kept a special one that I remade and adapted to create special effects...cleavages, strapless, and halters to enhance my outfits. I still have one favorite enhancing pair of bra I kept from those days when during the nineties and noughties no such bras were available. I often wore this special bra to create an unbelievable amazing cleavage - amasing because I hardly had any boobs.

I never used my femininity in the business community especially not in Local Government circles. I worked hard, very hard to gain respect from guys, and a woman did have to work twice as hard as men to prove themselves and for a pittance of the pay men received. It was universally accepted that woman were the inferior gender therefore not entitled to equal pay.

I was foremost a businesswoman in Local Government and also our businesses. Though I didn't draw a wage I was responsible for more money than my fellow Councillors could imagine. I realised how capable I had inadvertently become. I was gaining confidence in myself.

Working in an all-male Council I realised I had more knowledge and commonsense than some of the other members, I was beginning to see my worth and reveled in my new found confidence... but I mustn't let myself act above my station, I am there for Bill first and foremost.

I noticed men seemed attracted to me. I had never thought of myself as being sexy... until one day a tradesman whistled as I walked past, he followed me, and very politely said "I hope you don't mind me asking, but are you wearing any underwear?"

He quite took me by surprise but I admired his spunk and he was so polite nice and good looking I truthfully responded without hesitation.

"No! How did you guess?"

"I didn't think you were; I couldn't see any lines."

I was wearing a white two-piece jump suit, which of course I had made, with white stiletto heeled shoes. The loose top with long sleeves fitted to a band at the hips. I never wore bras anyway, and if I wore knickers they would have shown so I wore none which was also usual for me, I felt freer.

This experience made me appreciate how I was perceived by looks. I secretly relished in this knowledge. I put a lot of thought into how I made my clothes and what I made, but in council I was so careful to project a businesslike manner in dress and personality.

I enjoyed working with an all-male council, I was aware of what male minds were capable of, but not once did I give any one of them reason to believe I was anything other than a happily married woman committed not only to my marriage but to performing my council duties with the utmost professionalism and integrity. I knew I was in total control of myself and the men's attitude towards me. I was well aware some men were waiting for me to make a stupid girlie move or slip up; this knowledge gave me great powers I smugly clung to, confidence in my ability to maintain control not only of myself but of the males also.

Mum maintained I worked too hard, well she had more reason for concern now (lucky she didn't really know the extent of my commitments) with my extra council duties and playing squash added to my usual daily busy regime. I felt as if I was coping and didn't feel at all pressured unless my time management regimes were interrupted. I never wasted a single second, I never had a spare second anyway. I was pleased mum was living in Ceduna and not able to see just how busy I was or expect me to spend time sitting chatting with her.

My doctor knew how busy I was and never missed an opportunity to lecture me, warning me to "slow up". It didn't work. I didn't 'slow up'.

I now only wrote to mum once a week as she did to me. It was a wise choice she made in returning to Ceduna because we communicated far better through penned letters rather than face to face. I bared my soul to mum in these letters, she knew more about my 'doings' living afar than if she'd been living next door. I couldn't 'talk' to her as openly as I wrote to her.

Mum religiously continued with her recycling ethics, always using inverted envelopes and writing on any piece of blank paper she came across like the wrapping around the local newspaper, opened envelopes not able to be used for reassembling inside out, the back of insignificant letters she received especially if it was from someone I knew and it was suitable for me to read, also she wrote on the back half of greeting cards, she reused the pictured front half as a greeting card and sent to friends. I never ever received a new birthday or Xmas card from mum ever and it was always sent in an envelope sent to her which she had turned inside out (with the stamp steamed off). I never thought it strange it was the accepted way mum did things.

My handwriting was getting worse in fact it became so bad I couldn't read it. I wrote so fast the writing got so messy. I had given Le-Anne a typewriter for Xmas which she seldom used, I taught myself to type (with one finger) and began typing my letters to mum, she complained about the mistakes (no facility for correction with these old typewriters). I didn't care and told her she was a 'private detective' and could surely decipher what I meant, besides my miss-spelled typing would have been easier to decipher than my handwriting; she was also disgusted because I used good paper in the typewriter.

"Such a waste!"

Typing regularly to mum was good training for me, I am still practically a one finger typist but the years of typing to mum without really worrying about it being perfect was good practice.

Luckily writing skills weren't mandatory in Council. I alone was the only one who had to read my notes which I sometimes found difficult.

I enjoyed my Councillor duties and was very proud of my achievements especially for the Hectorville ward which had slipped into a forgotten basket as the new suburbs commandeered the attention.

I was pleased there was no renumeration because there was not the pressure from ratepayers who were quite astonished when they realised Councillors were all volunteers.

I wouldn't have done my job any different had I been paid because I felt I gave it my all anyway, my reward was the respect I received and the knowledge I gained.

# Chapter 22

## My Teenagers

The children were becoming confident and responsible; they had to be for me to capably function. Mark now a teenager, Le-Anne and Shane soon to be were all independent with completely different interests, just as well because this gave them a feeling of independence and individuality from each other.

They seemed to hate each other, their fighting drove me to distraction, but at least while they were pursuing their own hobbies they were apart. The first indication of them interacting sensibly together was over music. As much as I didn't like the music of that era I applauded it because my three kids were at last sensibly communicating... through music.

They shared records (vinyl 45's and LP's) listening to each other's as they played them on the record player. CD tapes were becoming popular, they were so much easier to handle so we bought a CD player. While the music blared the kids were happy.

Their untidiness drove me to distraction, when they got home from school they'd start dropping their clothes at the door and discard each item along with their rubbish and food scraps on the floor as they walked from room to room.

The fridge and pantry was continually raided which I didn't mind but what annoyed me was the packets of goodies in the pantry which looked intact when I needed them were in fact empty hollow packets. Shane was the culprit. I begged him to always put the empty packets in the bin so I knew they needed replacing. I tried to hide packets of goodies so I'd have them when I needed them but Shane always beat me to them. I even hid goodies under the junk in his bedroom, he found them too. I tricked him a treat with oranges. The bowl of oranges soon was bare.

"Where have you hidden the oranges mum? I can't find them."

"They are right under your nose and there are plenty of them."

Shane hunted high and low.

"Where are they?"

"If you go into your bedroom you will be able to see them. Oh, and tidy your room as you look."

He never found them. I eventually told him they were on the tree right outside his bedroom window. A win for mum! It was deemed by my family anything I made or grew was inferior; bought produce was a treat for our kids because our garden was self-sufficient, I rarely bought processed foods. The organic oranges stayed on the tree uneaten.

It was during the kid's late primary school years two of their class mates parents separated. This was the first divorce we were affected by; it was a shock to me. I felt so sorry for the children involved; they were friends of our children.

"How do the children feel about their parents separating?" I asked Le-Anne.

"They don't care; what they can't get from their mum they get from their dad."  
Children quickly learned the art of manipulation during unpleasant separations taking advantage of their parent's guilt.

Sadly this was the beginning of many long term marriages breaking down resulting in divorce which seemed to me an extreme solution. I couldn't believe a partner in a marriage of so many years with children involved would want to break the family union and leave the marriage. Who would have thought?

Not me!

This trend was to become the norm as the years progressed.

Poppa still visited us on Wednesdays and Sundays. He continued taking the children to visit relatives most Wednesdays until the kids each had other commitments. Sundays we usually had tea at home inviting relatives and friends. Poppa looked forward to his visits to us. He lived for our kids and fishing, we continued to enjoy the fresh fish he caught, he always cleaned them but I filleted them because I didn't want the children getting bones in their throats.

Mark liked school and passed all exams, he wasn't interested in sports but excelled in Scouts and St John's Brigade learning and practicing all their teachings, he was successful with everything he attempted. Working around home he continued as my right hand person I loved it and was so proud of him, he capably mastered every task put to him.

He helped Bill with large projects like installing cement paths and borders at Norwood where he mixed all the cement shoveling the correct sand mettle and cement, no mean task for a young school kid. He was a quick learner and under Bill's basic instruction become a competent welder; he was an eager capable sensible worker.

Mark built himself a push bike from selected bike parts from where ever he could scrounge them, to me it was an ugly looking bike but he was so proud of it. One day he came home from school distraught his bike had been stolen, the lock had been cut. I couldn't believe anyone would want to steel such a monstrosity.

"They want it for the parts." he said.

We reported it to the police, we looked through hundreds of stolen bikes the police had confiscated but Mark never recovered his prize bike. He was so sad having to go back to riding his ordinary bike we had given him a few years earlier. Apparently his home made bike was a masterpiece coveted by the lads.

Mark and his best mate Michael in primary school, rode their push bikes everywhere, they spent a lot of time at their 'club' near a ford over the Torrens River at Campbelltown; well really it was barely a creek where it passed through Campbelltown; their 'club' was a small area hidden amongst bushes where they could be completely alone doing?????

One Sunday morning Mark woke us up announcing "We're going to Belair National Park today."

"How?"

"We'll ride to the train station in the city put our bikes on the train to Belair then ride home which is pretty much all downhill."  
They did and loved the day out and the whole experience.  
One day they told me they were going to build a go cart.

"What with?" I asked.

"We have all the parts; we roamed the streets before the hard rubbish was collected and found all the bits we need."

These two boys worked together chatting away like old men; it was a pleasure to witness. They produced a functional go cart, quite a feat of ingeniousness. They had so much fun with it.

Mark loved motors he had grown out of his 50cc motor bike and wanted a bigger one, a trail bike. He gathered up anything around the place he could sell which gave him enough for a substantial deposit for a new bike. He didn't have enough for the bike he wanted so of course we made up the difference.

He was very proud of his new bike a 500cc trail bike but there was a problem where could he ride it? He walked it along the suburbs quiet streets to nearby vacant blocks but was soon escorted home by police, someone had obviously notified them. He was also escorted home just for walking the bike along Montacute Road on his way to a distant paddock.

It was a problem; where could kids ride their motor bikes?... until we found an isolated designated trail bike track on a property at Wistow near Mt Barker a two hour drive away which we endeavored to transport him and his bike to and from. This was a huge commitment which occupied a full day but Mark was so happy it was worth it.

Mark on his first trail bike 14yo

Mark attended Marryatville High on Kensington Road, this boys school was recommended by his Primary School Head Master, it was primarily a technical school excellent for Mark who though not an academic scholar was more capable with more common sense than most kids and many adults, he loved this school and met a lot of new friends from the more affluent eastern suburbs.

Mark left school before he was legally old enough to leave; fifteen was the mandatory school leaving age. Jobs were scarce at that time but Bill wanted him working with him in our factory. We got special permission from the Minister of Education who came to our business premises to be certain we were able to employ Mark.

He congratulated us. "I wish more parents would do this for their children."

Mark at fourteen started working with Bill in our factory at Kensington.

The Government of the day was encouraging businesses to employ apprentices with a $1000 enticement program which we accepted. Mark attended trade school for four years qualifying as a cabinet maker.

It was a huge change for Mark making the transition from school to the work force at such a young age, his school friends petered off and at work there were only older folk. We took on another young lad as an apprentice, another $1,000 and so he had some young company. Mark loved working with the machines which was what most of our factory work consisted of.

It would be nearly two years before Mark was able to get a licence to drive a motor vehicle, he had to be content with his pushbike, and in the meantime he enjoyed riding his trail bike. Mark's friend at High School Rob also owned a trail motor bike and Rob's father was happy to take the boys and their bikes to Wistow. On Sundays off they went to Wistow happy riding their bikes nonstop all day. We were so grateful to Rob's dad for giving freely of his time. They all enjoyed these outings very much.

Mark couldn't wait to turn sixteen to get his driver's licence, we had bought him the car of his choice a Holden V8 station wagon, I thought it was just an old car and a smaller newer car would have been a more suitable car for a learner. No. This was the one he wanted.

Full drivers licences were easily obtained in those days simply by a written test; but much to Mark's (and mine) disgust the month before he turned sixteen the Motor Vehicles Dept. introduced Learners and Probation licences to drive.

Learners from this time on had to have a licensed driver with them while a 'Learner', then be on probation for at least two more years. Learner drivers were not allowed to drive alone until they passed a manual drivers test.

What did Mark do? He bought a road motor bike which he would be able to drive without a supervisor he wanted to be independent... ASAP.

On the day Mark turned sixteen he applied for his car and motor bike licence. It took the Motor Vehicles Dept by surprise, no-one had requested this before, but they had to grant him his motor bike licence because bikes weren't included in the new law, they couldn't be, how can you have a licensed driver with a learner on a motor bike?

Mark passed the car tests but failed the motorbike practical test where a police car followed him. He was disgusted he failed, he didn't drop speed to 40ks as per the sign which he didn't see because a truck just ahead of him blocked his view of the sign. He did the motor bike test again and so got his motor bike licence. He was happy; he was independently mobile and was off. He dutifully accepted having a licenced driver with him in his car on 'L' plates and disgusted having either Bill or me because he could drive better than us... in his mind.

Marks first solo trip of freedom was to Melbourne on his motor bike for a long weekend. He was just sixteen. I was concerned how he'd cope in a strange city. Off he went happy as Larry. He stayed with friends who had moved to Melbourne, then took off for the trip home. Half way home he was running short of money, he wondered what he should spend his last dollars on, petrol or food?

"I bought a beer instead." he told me.

I felt really bad I hadn't organised a credit card for him to take.

Les Longmire had taken Mark under his wing; they got on very well even though Les was nearly thirty years older, he and his wife Phil often looked after our kids especially Mark when they were younger. Les was a role model for Mark and also loved motor bikes and the bush.

Les offered to travel with Mark in tandem on their motor bikes to Alice Springs. I was a bit dubious but they and Bill assured me it would be okay. Les was an experienced bushy and a very responsible elder whom we all respected.

They didn't get to their destination; Mark's bike broke down and Bill had to take a trailer into the centre of remote Australia and bring the bikes Les and Mark home. They were rather woe-bygone when they finally arrived home. I was thankful they were both in one piece.

Mark now drove our Chrysler to Wistow most weekends with Rob and his father as driver instructor towing the trailer loaded with their bikes. We were happy for Rob's dad to supervise in our car. Bill was busy at the Academy. I was busy with Le-Anne and Shane's commitments. It was impossible for me to transport and attend all the kid's commitments and hobbies. I was so pleased Rob's dad was always eager to accompany the boys in our vehicle and spend the day and sometimes weekend at Wistow.

On the weekend of the election for my second term in Local Government Mark rang early on the Sunday morning.

"Mum?"

How nice I thought, he has rung to see how I polled.

"Mum, I have had an accident."

"What sort of accident?"

"I rolled the car."

"Is everyone okay?"

"Yes. No-one is hurt but the car is. It's dented all over and not able to be driven."

We drove to Wistow to inspect the car and bring them all home. At the sight of the car we all cried, it was virtually flattened with every panel reshaped. It was a write-off even though the motor was still as new. I don't think Bill's prophesy about the motor out lasting the car was meant to be like this.

Rob's dad was in the car when it rolled, he said Mark wasn't speeding but when the wheels touched the high dirt verge on the graded dirt road the acute power steering as he tried to correct the car from the verge caused the roll over.

Every- one was safe that was the main thing, though Bill mourned that Chrysler van and had to revert to using a trailer behind the Jag; lucky we had plenty of vehicles.

Mark wanted a bigger bedroom. He asked if he could transform the back corner of the shed at home into a 'pad' for himself. The shed was now mostly full of accumulated stuff. Bill wasn't using the shed, he was doing all his work at the factory. Mark explained what he wanted to do, it all sounded very practical and well planned. I approved especially as Mark's old room could easily be converted to a sound proof piano room for Le-Anne to practice to her heart's content.

Bill was too busy so I told Mark I would help him. I had no idea where to start but Mark had it all worked out, we took measurements, made notes and bought the necessary materials. Mark alone lined and insulated a 12x12ft room in the corner of the shed incorporating the original window and external door. I made blackout curtains and painted an old wardrobe and chest to match, I laid carpet and under felt to cover the baby shit yellow cement floor and with his original single bed his pad was complete. He loved his pad and the independence and privacy it afforded him; it was a project he had every reason to be proud of. I was proud of him.

Le-Anne loved dancing classes and though excelled as a Brownie she chose to pursue ballet, piano, singing and swimming lessons instead of advancing as a Girl Guide. She achieved certificates in every exam she sat for. She time managed her school work and hobbies with ease, when it wasn't practical to travel by bus I drove her.

It was at our Xmas holidays at the beach house, Le-Anne had finished primary school and was due to start at Campbelltown High. I was telling guests "None of our kids want to go to college."

"Who said?" Le-Anne interjected.  
I then realised it was only Mark who said he would not attend a college. I had assumed Le-Anne and Shane also didn't want to.

Usually a waiting list applied to all colleges. I chose Pembroke College because it was virtually next door to our factory and because of its well-known successful Pembroke Girls' Choir. It was short notice but luckily there had been cancellations, we enrolled Le-Anne, she was very happy, she now had her sights set on becoming a member of the renowned 'Pembroke Girls' Choir'. The Principal told her only the best select few were even offered an audition.

Le-Anne diligently practiced her singing, she had never sung in a choir so I spent time with her practicing part singing, teaching her to sing in harmony with the melody, I knew this skill was necessary to be accepted into this elite choir. She passed the audition and became a member of this distinguished choir.

Pembroke Girls' Choir was in great demand; the very high standard was attributed to Colin Curtis the choir master who was so strict absences were not accepted unless you were in hospital, where you were sent flowers. Le-Anne traveled to Japan with the choir as well as around Australia. This choir produced an absolutely amasing sound; the control, and purity of the voices was something to behold; it sent shivers down my spine

Le-Anne also did well with her grades at this college and though not interested in sports the college encouraged her to play netball which she was good at because she was tall, but she never pursued it or any sport, dance was her passion.

I was surprised by the difference in attitude of some college kids, their expectations were selfish and decadent, their parents seemed to grant their every wish, nothing was too expensive, in fact it seemed the more it cost the 'better' it was perceived to be. I couldn't believe parents indulged their children so. I was raising my kids as I was reared, providing all the necessaries but not unnecessary luxuries, not that we could have afforded them. I firmly believe children shouldn't expect to have their every whim fulfilled; whims need to be earned through achievements.

Just before Le-Anne left school we enrolled her in a modeling course. She graduated with the highest results of the course

I was asked if Hoad Woodcarving Academy would sponsor Le-Anne in a 'Miss Norwood charity contest. We did. She worked tirelessly raising money, I couldn't keep up with her. The contest culminated in a grand formal event where much to our surprise she was crowned 'Miss Norwood'. Le-Anne never failed to amase us.

Miss Norwood Le-Anne 15 y o

We were so proud of her. Le-Anne had a natural grace and charm about her that amased me, she certainly didn't inherit it from me.

On leaving school Le-Anne enrolled in a dress designing and making course at Tafe. Of course she graduated with top marks and designed some absolutely fabulous clothes. I loved her ideas and was proud to wear them.

Le-Anne could put her mind and her skills to achieve anything she wanted, she loved ballet classes and performing in the many concerts which she really enjoyed, she was happy being on stage it came naturally to her.

She tirelessly and efficiently fulfilled all her commitments and pursued all her interests with passion and enthusiasm. She was better at time management than me. I worried she would burn out. I tried to take as much pressure off her as possible and encouraged her not to take on too many responsibilities. She of course took no notice of me she just sailed through each day taking her busy schedule in her stride.

When Le-Anne was a fourteen year old college kid she had a seventeen year old boyfriend, her first. It was 'the thing' to have a boyfriend and an older handsome one was very prestigious. I monitored this relationship; it didn't last very long. Her girlfriends were boy mad. Le-Anne declared "I can't be bothered with boys I don't know why girls bother with them."

I was relieved.

She often went to discos and night clubs with her girlfriends. We never put restriction on her we didn't have to she was a sensible girl. Bill noticed she was getting home quite late, he often mentioned it to me. I didn't think anything of it... until I got up at 5.30am one morning and her bed hadn't been slept in. Suddenly I took notice; then I heard our gates clang open and shut, then Le-Anne singing as usual in top voice as she strolled up the drive and casually walked inside.

"Hi mum?"

"Where have you been? It's a bit late for you to be getting home isn't it?"

"What's the time? OH! I didn't realise it was so late. You've never told me what time I should be home. What time do you want me home?"

"Well I think 1am is late enough for a fifteen year old."

"Okay. It's just that you never said what time I should be home."  
She explained how nightclubs didn't get going until 2am then the time quickly flies by. She was always home at the time I stated from then on.

Le-Anne had so much self-confidence it amased me. I remember she took me to the movies to see Xanadu; I was working late and we got there just after the movie had started, the theatre was full and the usher didn't want to let us in. Through the darkness Le-Anne spotted an empty seat each end of the very front row.

"We'll have them. Come on mum!"

She dragged me passed the indignant usher down the aisle to the front row and to my utter astonishment without blinking an eye she had the whole row moving along one seat so we could sit together at one end.

I hadn't been to the movies for years and sitting in the front row with my head tilted to the heavens wasn't comfy. I whispered to Le-Anne "I wish I could lie on the floor and watch the movie."

Le-Anne promptly did, so I followed suit; it wasn't long before all the front row was lying on the floor comfortably watching the movie.

Le-Anne's confidence natural poise and grace always surprised me because I just don't know where she gained it, certainly not from her mother's genes. When she entered a room you could feel a presence, the atmosphere changed not only for me but everyone, she attracted attention and knew it and lapped it up, she wasn't only good looking she had charisma.

In Ceduna mum updated her car with the local dealer, a Ford dealer (there were no Holden dealers there), she offered her seven month old Ford Laser to us for Le-Anne, the condition was we had to pick it up from Ceduna.

Le-Anne and I flew to Ceduna. Le-Anne hadn't had any driving lessons, she wasn't interested but I figured she could learn to drive as we drove the car back to Adelaide...Well!!! That was my theory.

We got in the car at the farm Le-Anne in the driver's seat.

"Drive around the paddock to get the feel of the car before we drive on the highway."

She sat there.

"Well start it." I prompted.

"How?"  
OMG! What had I got myself into? I had assumed Le-Anne would hop in and drive like the boys. I never had to teach them. What a shock to me. I proceeded to explain the key the gears the brakes etc.etc.

That trip back to Adelaide was the most hair rising experience of my life. I don't like long distance driving at any time and this trip tested me to the limits. I was totally spent when we thankfully and luckily safely arrived home.

Mark in no uncertain terms told me it was the most stupid dangerous act we could possibly partake in. I realise now how right he was. Driving didn't come natural to Le-Anne. We paid for her to have professional lessons, I don't think the instructor stressed the responsibility of driving strongly enough, Le-Anne was too casual about driving, she assumed she could take driving successfully in her stride like she did everything.

"Wrong Le-Anne! You must totally concentrate. No putting makeup on or eating as you drive."

While on her L plates with Bill as her instructor she ran into a parked car in Target car park, they were both gazing into a shop window. Bill paid the owner enough to cover damages; no more was heard of that incident.

Just after she got her licence she crossed in front of a stationary bus and an oncoming car hit her.

"But I couldn't see the car."

It was totally her fault. Later in Ballarat she had another accident which wasn't fully her fault, which wrote that car off. Thankfully no-one was ever injured in any accident. She recently admitted to me she never ever wanted to drive, she felt I never gave her a choice. I didn't either. It never occurred to me that any of my children would not learn to drive. _She is now glad I didn't give her the choice._

Shane's only goal in life was a ball and two sticks: the centre two sticks at each end of an AFL footy oval (the point posts were of little interest to him.) He loved all sport but Australian Rules was his passion. Worst of all his passion was for Port Adelaide for which I blame Graham a one eyed Port Adelaide supporter living opposite us, he often kicked the footy after work with Shane. Graham offered to take Shane when seven years old to see Port play a match in the South Australian National Football League. Shane instantly became hooked on Port Adelaide. Still is!

As soon as Shane was old enough he played AFL in his primary school team, he was the shortest kid playing. I was mortified to see him at the centre bounce as ruckman standing the tallest kid on the field. How-ever would he be able to beat such a tall opposition to the knock I wondered.

He didn't for a couple of bounces but then to my amasement as the ball was bounced I could see him closely watching the ball without attempting to try and outreach his tall opponent, instead as soon as his opponent had his hands on the ball Shane wrapped his arms quickly around his waist, which was pretty much at his arm level. Shane was awarded a free because his opposition was "holding the ball". Shane's lateral thinking and practical theory staggered me. This was my introduction to Shane's logical mind especially his sports logic.

We lived in the Norwood recruiting district. Shane was one of the best players at primary school and invited to join the Norwood junior squad, the opposition to Port Adelaide. It was a tremendous achievement and accolade to be chosen to join these clubs, he should have been proud; well he probably was but his heart wasn't with Norwood.

"Mum can we move to Pt. Adelaide?"

"No Way!"

Shane during his primary school days played many matches in the junior squad with Norwood, they won a final one year; he played full forward and kicked many goals. He seldom missed a set shot from anywhere in the fifty meter circle. All the practicing though our gates had paid off.

Shane was also a good tennis player, he played football in winter and tennis in summer until one year he was chosen by the junior squad of the Cardinals and coaxed to play baseball instead of tennis. I wasn't keen, I knew nothing about baseball, and didn't even enjoy watching it.

Cardinals won. Shane trained and played with them. Transporting him to and from training and matches was a huge commitment as no buses traveled near his destinations, luckily Le-Anne was able to use the bus at times to get to her hobbies or I would have been stretched in two. Bill was busy at the Academy; anyway it was the mum's job to look after and taxi the children.

At ten years of age Shane started going to the SANFL matches alone, he assured us he would be okay. He caught two buses and soon learned where every SANFL oval was, how to get there and home, how to get in and out of the ovals and where the best seats were. He was a happy chappy on Saturdays, as soon as his school match finished he'd take off to see his beloved Pt Adelaide play.

We were Norwood supporters so there was always friendly rivalry in our home though Bill Mark and Le-Anne didn't play sport and weren't as sports orientated as Shane and myself.

The year Norwood and Port Adelaide played a grand final Shane was so excited, he left early to obtain good seats. We were going out that evening and pleased we were because Port Adelaide won. Arriving home late that evening I felt a little anxious wondering if Shane had arrived home safely... or at all.

He had! Our bed was covered in big bold black and white balloons (Port colors); on the floor was a shriveled red and blue balloon (Norwood colors). I was stunned at his ingenuity and roared with laughter, and pride.

One morning about 4am the doorbell rang. Being disturbed late during the night was always a concern. I jumped out of bed; through the window I saw two policemen and Shane and his mate (who was sleeping over) in their long black duffle coats. I thought they were in bed asleep. I was relieved to see them standing unaided though cowering, so I knew they were physically okay; but...?

The police explained the milky as he was delivering milk had reported these two kids sneaking around and suspected them of stealing milk money that often went missing. The police said they found no money on the boys and there was no proof they had stolen any. The police admitted they gave the boys a bit of a ruff up. Shane swore they only went to the small shopping complex a few blocks away to see if the buns had been delivered to the back door, they maintained they were hungry. Shane didn't sneak out again at night: well not that I know of. He did however a few years later dare to commit a far worse crime...

We thought the children were old enough for Bill and me to spend a night away. Mark was a fully licensed driver and apart from arguing with his siblings he was quite mature and reliable. Bill and I planned a 'dirty weekend'. We felt like a couple of naughty kids. We knew the kids fought amongst themselves agreeing to disagree on pretty much everything, this would be an opportunity for them to maybe see the error of their ways without us there to arbitrate.

We had a lovely weekend of wining dining and making love without the children. We hadn't got any SOS calls from home (we left them our hotel number) everything must be okay. Arriving home everything seemed normal when Mark said to Shane "Go on tell them before I do."

"I took the Ford Laser for a ride."

He was fourteen. Mark explained "I was driving down Glynburn Road when I saw our Laser come tearing towards me with seemingly no-one in it. When I looked harder I could see Shane straining to look over the steering wheel. I threatened him I would tell you if he didn't."

What could we do? We were so relieved he wasn't caught by the police and didn't have an accident. He of course was reprimanded. A few weeks later I was even more so relieved when I realised this car's registration had run out, it wasn't registered. There had been a mix up in the Motor Vehicles Dept when mum gave that car to us. I thought we had to be the luckiest family. I would be sure to be more vigilant in future.

Shane wanted to go to Pembroke, mainly to attend a school which didn't have a predominance of Italian students. He was accepted at Pembroke because his sister was enrolled, he started a year after Le-Anne, though not an academic scholar he enjoyed and excelled at sports and played in the school tennis and football teams and did very well. He continued playing for Pembroke old scholars after he left school.

In class he had special topics set for him, for example he wasn't interested in history so his teacher set him a study of Ron Barassi a top Victorian footballer and coach. He had to research Ron's career. He did well in this exam. I commended the school on their initiative.

When Shane left school he thanked me for sending him to college not only to escape ethnic school mates but "I learned so much at college mum; and it wasn't school work."

I have never pursued what he did learn probably best I don't know.

Shane 11 y o

Shane also had leadership qualities, he often steered me into unchartered (by me) waters in Rundle Mall, at sporting venues where he organised special seating, even at home he surprised me by his confidence in initiating activities. Shane was a popular kid, happy go lucky kid and had lots of friends.

As we had with the Mark and Le-Anne we bought Shane a car when he turned sixteen. He chose a green Holden Torana with a sun roof; it looked trendy and hoon like. Shane didn't need any coaching to drive he was off as soon as he got his licence.

Of course as usual with young drivers the cops were on the lookout for any wrong doings especially those in sporty looking cars, on these occasions when Shane was asked "Whose car is this?"

"Mum's" he delighted in truthfully replying.

He got away with heaps I suspect because he was never fined with traffic offenses, he was our only child not to write off a car or have an accident.

We put all the kid's cars in my name for insurance purposes. We also made sure our children had reliable safe cars at sixteen; this ensured they were responsible for themselves and not having to rely on peer group pressure and others for transport. This responsibility gave them great independence allowing them to be the peer in the group which was comforting to us; we had confidence in their ability and maturity.

Our family now had five cars. How clever was Bill to insist we planned enough spaces in our front yard for them all? During the nights when I got up for my usual call of nature I always counted the cars which could be seen in one glance through the hall of windows overlooking the carports. I slept soundly when all the cars were in the yard. Any phone calls late at night sent shivers down my spine as I rushed to the phone automatically counting the cars as I went, it was a huge relief if all the cars were there allowing me to answer the phone without fear. Fortunately we never had any nasty surprises.

Our three teenagers were now confident young adults and to my surprise all possessed leadership qualities of which I was so pleased and enormously proud of. They certainly didn't inherit leadership from their father, probably my parents.

They were all kept busy following their own interests, we knew while they were being happily occupied they wouldn't be looking to get into mischief. We trusted them all, they knew we trusted them. I treated my teenagers as I would love to have been treated as a teenager.

I emphatically told them "You know right from wrong, do the right thing and you will never have to worry about a thing, do the wrong thing and you are on your own."

They never gave us a moment's real worry. We were proud of them all.

I loved the teenage years of my kids. I love teenagers they still have their natural common sense which is so easily nurtured with guidance and encouragement.

# Chapter 23

## Discovering Eunice

Bill didn't teach any more, he left the teaching at Hoad Woodcarving Academy completely to his four instructors, he loved working in the factory at Kensington, he was able to work there uninterrupted where he designed and produced exclusive kits in his blissful state in his 'own out of this world' existence.

The instructors enjoyed the classes, Bill was relieved of the responsibilities and happy to leave it totally to them. The students were ecstatic with their valuable unique completed pieces of furniture... but it was happening faster than Bill could produce new designs, he took many weeks- months to produce a new design, he refused to be pressured. I knew not say anything to him, though some of the ladies tried to charm him. He went deeper into himself complaining to me "Why can't they leave me alone?"

Mark and John Plum virtually took over the factory from Bill, they ably machined and assembled the students work. Mark was virtually running the factory now, he had transformed from school boy to tradesman overnight; not easy when all your mates are still at school.

He stayed friends with Rob and still went trail bike riding most weekends and still with Rob's father to supervise driving. Bill or I still had no time or the inclination to travel two hours each way to sit and watch lads tearing around dusty dirt tracks on trail bikes for hours on end. I was particularly grateful to be able to play weekend tennis and squash and Bill content to disappear into his inner self and design in peace.

Bill was happy, he had finally achieved his ultimate goal, designing without disturbance or worrying about anything especially earning a living, he was finally content though he still believed he would die before he was fifty, I didn't believe it but couldn't convince him, nor could doctor.

The instructors were completely running the Academy, they collected all fees and sales of kits and deposited directly into our bank account; they seldom saw Bill or me. I managed the accounts and payments and collected the rents from our rental properties. Bill was happy not to have to worry about anything now, even the Academy. He became hermit like enjoying total isolation, I daren't interrupt him, but I couldn't help but notice he made little headway with his designs, he spent hours going over the same lines with chalk then pencil then rubbing them out all the while idly supping on tumblerfuls of whisky alternated with port wine and sometimes straight out of the flagon. I dare not say anything. He was happy and content. I was losing respect, all I could do was get on with my life and support the kids.

I had learned over the years to cope with all aspects of whatever our lives evoked and did without a qualm; I felt capable and confident. Bill didn't want to be bothered with 'mundane' stuff; the more responsibility he ladled me with the more efficient I became.

I was determined not to get involved with woodcarving that was totally Bill's domain; but he had transferred all responsibilities to the instructors. They had taken over the Academy completely, they rarely saw him; he was blissfully engrossed in designing, finally content in his solitary domain.

I was relieved he was content, though I worried as he sat for hours at a time drawing over and over the same lines, supping from the glass, bottle or flagon, until he felt he had it just right. He wasn't only introverted he lived in his own little world oblivious to all happening around him. I had told him many years prior "You wouldn't notice if your dick was cut off until you come to do a piss, then you would wonder where it was!"

Boy was I game to say that to him? I must have said it jovially or I would have copped it. He certainly wasn't the capable man I married, but then I wasn't the insignificant country waif he married either, though I did still obey... to a point.

Living with Bill was like living alone but I didn't ponder over it, it wouldn't have changed him, instead I relished the modicum of freedom it gave me though I had to always be on the alert for when he snapped suddenly back to life and accuse me of being hard, uncaring and unfaithful.

These accusations hurt me deeply because I desperately tried not to be hard; I did care, I cared heaps, and I certainly wasn't unfaithful... well not in the context he accused me of.

I worried about the effect Bill's accusations had on our kids. I tried to keep these outbursts and certainly the physical abuse from them. I remembered how upset I was when I overheard mum and dad having an argument, the only argument I ever witnessed between them. I was mortified and devastated; I did not want my kids to experience that devastation so no matter what I always kept a happy bright attitude as if all was sweet.

I also had to consciously be subservient and constantly boosting Bill's moral. I believed and vocally attributed the success of our business assets and lifestyle to his amasing insight and planning, even so out of the blue he occasionally when I least expected it flew into a rage accusing me of... simply being me.

Why do I have to forget my station?

Why can't I always be a docile humble wife?

"I must remember I don't live alone. I do wish I could be the subservient wife he deserves and the one he married?"

"If you ever hold out on me with sex I'll get it from somewhere else."

I never forgot this threat from Bill from our early days of marriage and he never let me forget it either. I made sure I never did hold out on him even when I through a period of time when the children were young and I didn't feel like making love; I didn't feel sexy and I didn't want sex; even so I never said "NO!" I felt bad about feeling sexless but I couldn't help my feelings, consequently I always submitted to his sexual desires. It was still no chore to have sex with Bill it was all over before I even had to fake an orgasm which I had become expert at, it was easier to pretend I reached an orgasm than actually achieve one when Bill climaxed so quickly.

Bill needed reassuring that he was a good lover, faking an orgasm was the most effective method for me to boost his esteem and I didn't want him to think I was a cold unsexy person, I wasn't I was horny AS, stimulated by elusive orgasms.

I finally admitted to myself that I was never really turned on by Bill, even when we were single though I didn't mind not being turned on by him in my single days because I'm sure it prevented me from becoming pregnant. I was never tempted to 'go all the way' with Bill as I was often tempted (but never succumbed) with other guys, guys who I knew my parents wouldn't have approved of and who weren't suitable marriage prospects.

These days I was continually sexually aroused and almost like a dog on heat which pleased Bill. I was so happy he was happy and seemingly content most of the time. I was able to complete my chores and responsibilities with precision and strict time management and then set about enjoying myself and creating a lifestyle to suit me, being careful to make sure Bill was able to live in his blissful world without any pressures from the household, the children, the flats, my council responsibilities, or me.

Bill had trained me well. I expertly handled all our businesses and responsibilities whilst making him think he was the one making the decisions and in total control. I had learned to be suitably subservient while boosting his ego and capabilities, all the while discreetly enjoying my newfound independence which grew more daring by the day. It was easy for me to create an independent lifestyle because Bill was totally engrossed in his trance of designing and left me to my own devices.

It was just as well for Bill I was independent; he could never have accepted any pressure from me being demanding. I had learned to be subservient while pretending he was the leader of the tribe and continually boosting his ego... well most of the time.

I SO DID enjoy my newfound independence and confidence. Living with Bill, but seemingly without him made me an even stronger independent person. I knew there was no point in trying to encourage him to change or be more active and assertive on a daily basis, I had to accept him as he was or there would be a huge argument.

I had become so independent of him I rather liked the idea of being left to my own devices. I pride myself on making the most of what-ever situation I may find myself in, this situation of being alone gave me the opportunity to find myself and realise my worth whilst being enveloped in the folds of a loving safe family environment, which I felt our family unit was.

I was gaining not only confidence in my ability to achieve what-ever task I was confronted with, but confidence in my self-esteem. I was even more conscious of how I dressed and how I looked and tried my best to present myself as attractively as was possible with my basic looks. I could make any type of clothing I wanted but everything I wore had to pass Bill's approval which didn't allow me as much leeway as I would have liked. I didn't like wearing any underwear and often didn't.

I enjoyed the feeling of freedom under my clothes. One night we were on our way to a private party when Bill realised I never had on knickers, he was furious, he immediately turned the car right around and took me home and made me put some on. This story eventually spread amongst our friends, Bill relaxed his stance and finally allowed me to wear no underwear, so in future as our friends greeted us they would run their hand down my back and say "NO! She hasn't" or on rare occasions "Yes! She has."

Bill accepted this barter amongst our friends and relished in the attention I gave him when we were out, mind you we were usually well primed with alcohol at social gatherings.

I was feeling 'sexy' a powerful new feeling for me, I even tried to dress sexy, and must have achieved my aim because guys were beginning to notice me and sometimes flirt with me, nothing to do with no underwear because strangers didn't know my secret. I loved the attention I was attracting this was something I never experienced in my earlier years.

I became more daring as my confidence and self-esteem grew. I began to acknowledge sexual advances. I was experiencing feelings of wonderment and anticipation. This was the first time in my life I had experienced these feelings. I felt so alive and confident.

I noticed some business colleagues paying me more attention than usual. I felt one, who I'll call James, had been making innuendos towards me for years. I didn't particularly like him but needed and valued his business acumen.

I was aware of a cat and mouse game he was playing. I, the mouse had easily managed to evade him over the years I held the upper hand, I knew he daren't step over the fine line of decency that I held supreme, but, something exciting had developed between us as this game evolved.

One day we were doing business in my office at home; while studying papers, out of the blue we shared a deeply passionate kiss. I was taken by surprise. How did that happen? It certainly wasn't my conscious intention?

"I have been longing to do that for years." he whispered "Will you have lunch with me tomorrow?"

"Yes" I instinctively answered. No harm can come of a harmless business lunch in a public restaurant.

I tentatively drove to the restaurant James suggested, he was waiting on the curb to usher me into a suitable car space. How thoughtful of him. We enjoyed a lovely lunch sharing a nice bottle of wine while idly chatting about nothing in particular. He paid the bill and we made our way to my car, as I approached the car he pulled me away and into the foyer of an adjacent apartment block, up the lift into a lovely apartment. I was quite amiable having just drank more than half a bottle of wine.

Who does this belong to? "I asked.

"Friends who have gone away for the week, I am looking after it for them."

James expertly led me to the master bedroom, where, even though I was feeling very strange and very guilty, we were soon both naked.

The next three hours was the biggest learning curb of my entire life. I experienced my first internal orgasm; it was even more exquisite than I had imagined and had so often yearned for; even more amasing... James hadn't ejaculated.

There must be something wrong with him.

Before I had time to recover from the mind-blowing life changing orgasm James was expertly sending me wild with his expert tongue expertise, working on places I didn't know were such wonderful pleasure spots.

"OH NO!!!! Oh No! no... no...! YES! YES! YEESSS!"

The second orgasm was an out of body experience. I was tingling all over I was absolutely spent. Wonder of wonders James still hadn't ejaculated.

Something is definitely wrong with him!

Before I had recovered enough to get up to go home James started caressing me again.

"I can't take any more."

James ignored me; to my utter astonishment I soon became aroused again. We slowly made love in the normal missionary position until both of us climaxed simultaneously. James declaring it was SO worth the disciplinary restraint he exercised.

Me, I had partaken of the sweetest, exquisite life changing experience of my entire life. I couldn't believe any guy was capable of such expert lovemaking; but then 'what you don't know you don't miss.'

"Where have you been all my life?" I accusingly asked him.

Driving home I was on cloud nine and feeling invigorated and renewed as a person. I wanted to shout to the world about the wonderful feelings I was experiencing, all thanks to multiple orgasms by an attentive expert lover. My feelings for Bill instantly grew stronger, I couldn't wait to make love to him again asap.

James had opened an insatiable sex machine.

James was also married so needed to be discreet. We only repeated this lunch scenario when it was absolutely safe for us to do so. Neither of us wanted to hurt our partners or become emotionally attached, we certainly didn't want our marriages to break down. There was no love involved, this relationship was purely for mutual physical satisfaction, and how satisfying it was, well for me, I assume it was the same for James. Certainly the L word was never mentioned.

I couldn't believe the difference in my body mind and soul. I felt rejuvenated electric and alive. I didn't like James all that much, there were a few personal traits he had which were quite a turn off for me, so it was easy to dispel any romantic nonsense that enter female's heads when they experience their first real lover, one who gives multi orgasms.

There is a distinct difference between love and lust. This important difference should be taught in schools in conjunction with the detailed sex education of today, it could prevent women from making very unwise decisions because of cleverly orchestrated orgasms by an experienced lover.

Yearning for orgasms is LUST not LOVE! Love is still there long after the orgasms become the normal happening between couples.

I have learned the difference between love and lust over the years, when I see women breaking up their marriages because they " _love_ some-one else." That 'love' is usually a few good illicit orgasms. How I wish I could shake some sense into them and the lust out of them.

My illicit trysts with James cured me from the frustrated sexual yearnings I experienced over the 'tradie'. I think the frustrations being with the 'tradie' may have caused me to drop my guard with James and allow him to break through my barrier. Never mind I wasn't one bit sorry and I wasn't so eager to spend time with the 'tradie' now, though I really liked him as a person he wasn't a good lover. I was learning the difference. James had set a high standard, and if I was going to commit adultery I was going to do it with a lover who could deliver the goodies... multiple orgasms. Enough to make it worth the deceit I had to live with.

The more I was stimulated at these clandestine meetings the more I loved Bill. I looked forward to going to dinner with him in the evenings then home to make love. I never gave Bill reason to suspect I was cheating. I didn't feel I was cheating, I was simply satisfying my sexual frustrations in order to enhance my marriage.

Bill never questioned or accused me of any of my actual secret meetings, but he continually accused me of "getting it off" with friends at functions we attended together, these accusations arose from totally innocent socialising which was way off beam; and I could truthfully deny.

My feelings for Bill grew, I was in a satisfied state of mind and body; content and relaxed by satisfying orgasms. In fact strange as it may seem I think I had more feelings for Bill than ever and I wanted to make love with him more than ever. I was certainly more 'horny', and he didn't mind being interrupted from his blissful world for a bit of sex play.

I desperately wished I could have talked to Bill about the remarkable change I felt within myself, but of course I couldn't.  
I couldn't talk to a single soul.  
I knew if I wanted to commit adultery it had to be a burden I must be strong enough to bare alone.  
I did, but believe me it wasn't easy.

I realised it takes an extraordinarily strong mind and loads of discipline to carry out such deceit, even though I never felt guilty of what I was doing. I justified my actions by believing it was making me a better wife and mother which I truly believed. Certainly I was way more content within myself. I was happy Bill was happy.

We didn't argue so much. I made sure I didn't broach subjects that would push his upset button. Life was good.

Bill and our children always came first in my life, as did the 'tradie' and James's family always come first in their lives. Our meetings were strictly for sexual satisfaction.

I was able to put those relationships in a separate part of my brain, they never intertwined with my family in my head .I made sure Bill never had reason to be suspicious.

I felt continuously 'horny' I lavished Bill with these newfound feelings, he responded appropriately. I loved him more because of it and we made love more often. The more orgasms I had the more I wanted.

Bill wasn't about to ask questions while I was wanting more and more sex with him.

My deceit was surely justified.

# 

# Chapter 24

## Mayhem

Bill seldom went to the Academy, he left the instructors to their own devices, blissfully leaving all the authority to them, allowing them to take many liberties. Bill didn't have the time or ability to oversee the classes, consequently the instructors became independent and dictative to Bill. This shook Bill out of his reverie.

Bill didn't approve, he wasn't going to be told what should happen in his business; he wasn't going to be coerced into cow towering to the instructors demands.

He was proud of the success of his business developing way in excess of his expectations and ultimately beyond his capabilities. He had handed authority to the instructors who seized the opportunity, history was repeating itself, they knew better than Bill, and within the classes they had a point. Bill wasn't capable of managing the classes, besides he didn't want to.

The end of the year was approaching. I understood the instructors frustrations, I could see what was happening, Bill procrastinating and unwilling to put himself out specially to satisfy the instructors and students whims even though I thought their demands practical for the efficiency of running the classes; BUT no-one tells Bill how to run his business.

The instructors had been given a free rein; they knew how the classes could run more efficiently and the students agreed and supported them. I did too but couldn't interfere. They put propositions to Bill, of course he rebelled against their demands causing much discontent within the Academy. He couldn't handle the pressure, he was the boss he could do as he wished, he dictated to them, flatly refusing their demands.

The discontent festered, eventually providing a perfect opportunity for the instructors with the support and encouragement of the students to secretly grab and run... and start teaching on their own, independent of HWA as had happened with previous teachers.

Bill went to the classes, he knew something was happening and not for the best, the air was tense and when he came across a group whispering they immediately stopped and moved apart.

Time for me to get involved.

Bill was happy about that.

We discovered two of the instructors were planning to do as we suspected, teach woodcarving at their own home using our patterns and encouraging our students to leave our Academy and continue classes with them. These instructors had a good rapport both social and work wise with the students, they solicited the students.

Bill had trusted one of the defecting instructors to produce our kits at his home workshop where he had our original templates, he intended to continue using them to supply the other teacher. We again quickly spread the word...

"Hoad designs are covered by copyright and we have the right to destroy any Hoad designs being made without our authority."

This was a huge deterrent for the dedicated woodcarvers who wanted to make Hoad furniture; they didn't want their hand carved furniture destroyed.

We decided Bill would have to resume teaching, taking over the classes the instructors were defecting from. This was a huge incentive for students to stay with us, after all Bill was the designer, the master, he was revered in his field. It would be an honour and a privilege to have the illusive Bill Hoad as their instructor. Some of the students had never met Bill but they knew of his skills and artistic ability, they would consider it a great privilege to have 'the master' instructing them.

Bill had to come out of his reverie, he had to project himself in order to keep Hoad Woodcarving Academy afloat.

We talked to each of the students explaining the copyright laws and the situation and plans for the New Year. The defecting instructors enlisted support from the 'social set' of students who had committed to follow them; the genuine woodcarvers were happy to stay at Hoad Woodcarving Academy especially with the promise of 'the master' as their instructor.

It was a busy time for us both, Bill totally out of his comfort zone assuring students. I in my element in full public relations' mode explaining the situation. It paid off, most of the students supported us.

The Xmas party this year at the Academy had a strained feel about it. Bill made huge efforts with public relations; we talked openly about the changes taking place. I promoted not only the benefits of Bill instructing but stressed the students leaving would not be eligible to carve Hoad furniture kits after they completed their current project.

It was the Xmas of 1979. We couldn't wait to get to our beach house to relax and recover.

A week of relaxation allowed my brain to clear enough to realise I would have to do something. I knew Bill wouldn't be able to sustain and manage classes on his own for long.

The Lessees of the upstairs rooms at the Academy were vacating the premises early in the New Year. Perfect. I would move into the spacious rooms above the Academy and take charge of the Academy while starting my own business in the rag trade possibly creating a business for Le-Anne. Up to now I had avoided becoming involved in the Academy because it was Bill's baby, besides I had been fully occupied with my ever-increasing responsibilities and commitments... and social life... but I could see what must be done at the Academy.

I knew Bill simply wasn't capable of restoring or maintaining classes without help and support. He had again left it totally to the instructors who saw an opportunity to 'take over' and defect, simply because Bill didn't want the responsibility of classes, nor could he maintain them for long.

Bill's insistence of "I need help." that I had heard so often now well and truly hit home to me.

Now was the time.

At the beginning of next year I would move into the Academy at 45 George St Norwood and help Bill. I would take charge of administrating the classes and employ the instructors rather than hand them the classes to do as they please with.

Meantime we would enjoy six weeks holidaying at our beach house and look forward to our friends arriving for New Year's Eve celebrations.

This year we realised our innocent children were 'innocent' no longer, they were teenagers. The rules had changed, these holidays we adults weren't allowed downstairs into the teen's domain. I really don't know who had the most fun.

Times!

They were a changing.

So ended the seventies...............

1979 Le-Anne, me. Fleur, Bill Shane Mark

# The Eighties

## 1980-89

# Chapter 25

## Restored Mayhem

Feeling refreshed and rejuvenated as we always did after our summer holidays we were ready, well I certainly was, for whatever awaited us at the Academy What awaited I knew not. I knew I would be extra busy working full time at the Academy as well as fulfilling my current responsibilities.

I knew I had to enforce the copyright laws to protect our business. Bill's designs were the secret of the Academy's unique success. We studied all we could find (which was precious little) (no Google) about copyrights. We approached a leading copyright lawyer in Adelaide only to find the instructors had beaten us to that lawyer. We approached another and after discussions and quotes we decided not to take legal action at this stage.

We would continue spreading the word and informing people of our copyright natural rights. These designs were definitely all of Bill's drawings and the students knew it, so did the instructors. Bill was still prepared in a court of law if necessary to prove these designs were his by freehand drawing in front of a judge or jury and challenge any offenders to do the same.

The Academy management and administration needed complete restructuring. This wasn't Bill's domain; he would sooner let the Academy quietly sort itself out than 'put himself out (or in) there'. He had previously left it to each instructor to completely run their classes, allowing them total authority and control of the classes to the extent of them becoming more efficient and seemingly superior to Bill who was beside himself wondering how he could gain back control.

I could see exactly what needed doing to restore the Academy back to running at its full capacity with a 'Hoad' at the helm. I had to take over, take control, Bill wasn't capable of leading the pack. I spoke to everyone personally explaining how the Academy would be run in future. It was all a new experience for me promoting the Academy which I had previously avoided 'interfering' in.

I stressed the copyright law to everyone especially to the instructors. I spread the word to every person I came in contact with.

"Hoad designs cannot be made outside the Hoad Woodcarving Academy."

Word soon spread. Those who wanted to make Bill's designs were extremely happy with us especially with Bill teaching them. Those who chose to leave with the defecting instructors we were glad to be rid of, their allegiance to us had been broken.

I set about reorganising the classes to suit us, I supported Bill as he took over instructing the classes, I stayed near him at all times to take over anything that wasn't actually carving instructions, and that was a plenty. I found I was excellent at public relations especially with our students who were all lovely people and intelligent folks. I enjoyed interacting with them.

I managed the classes while Bill devoted all his time to instructing the art of woodcarving allowing the students undivided guidance from the instructor while I was able to attend to all the other aspects of the classes, it was like having two instructors; previously the instructors spent class time administrating rather than instructing.

The Academy soon settled into an efficient business. Everyone was contentedly happy, especially Bill with the defecting instructors well out of his life and Hoads back in control of Hoad Woodcarving Academy, he wouldn't abide his instructors dictating to him or students who coerced with them.

I was sorry to lose good instructors but realised it was best they go. I understood their wanting to teach in a different manner to what Bill expected; the allegiances of these instructors were obviously not with us anymore. They now knew they could not legally take our designs with them, they had to produce their own designs, and produce the kits, no easy task. If instructors whom Bill had trained were able to leave at their whim with his students and designs and start teaching in opposition we would soon be out of business.

Bill never had the personality to compete with the charismatic people he invited to train as instructors, nor did he want to be a 'personality' he just wanted to design. I was surprised how well he adjusted back to teaching again, I was fearful he wouldn't cope with the pressure, though he really didn't have a choice if the Academy was to survive.

He handled the instructing well and persevered with teaching, he was good at it; the students loved him. I was proud of him. I made sure I was hovering nearby him all through his classes ready to attend to all queries and requirements other than teaching. I knew I had to 'cover' for him, he was grateful I aided and abetted him. I wondered how long he would last before his bubble burst; how long could he cope with the pressure the students would put on him?

Mark was proficient and capably running the factory. John Plum was joined by Henry Novacek another retired gent also a student who offered to help Bill; they machined kits and shared with Bill their business knowledge and expertise which was invaluable.

We can't speak highly enough of the expertise of retirees who in this era were involuntarily pensioned off at sixty five years of age. Use by date up! John and Henry were the epitome of expertise wasted, we were the lucky ones to benefit from their forced retirement, they became a staunch backbone to Hoad Woodcarving Academy offering free time, free advice and guidance, freely given and of the quality we could never have afforded.

The Academy prospered; more instructors needed to be trained so more students could be enrolled. Bill selected four student carvers, he decided it was better to have more teaches with less classes than allow one teacher a monopoly. These four students, three retired gents and a housewife were honored and delighted to be chosen as potential instructors, they were however slightly taken aback when they realised the structure of the Hoad Woodcarving Academy had changed, they wouldn't have the freedom of 'their own business' they would be answering to Bill: alias me.

I would be administrating the classes; the new instructors would be working solely as an instructor. I would collect all the fees, be responsible for recouping students and for the supply of adequate kits. I would provide and supervise the showroom that displayed completed furniture.

The instructors would now be able to devote all their class time strictly to the students instead of spending precious teaching time attending to unrelated teaching skills. The students would benefit greatly. There would be no more opportunities for instructors to defect.

I (literally alone) converted upstairs of the Academy into my domain, renovating the large main front room into an elegant showroom, wallpapering the twelve foot high walls with embossed wallpaper enhancing the twelve inch high skirting boards and deep elaborate double cornices. The original beautifully carved marble fireplace was a feature of this stunning office/showroom with the remaining gilded large fibre glass mantle mirror proudly displayed on it. This office was a spectacle furnished with Academy designed and made furniture.

The students could see and choose from a variety of dining and lounge chairs, mirrors and picture frames, wall and free standing clocks of various sizes, coffee, hall and wine tables, even a chiffonier, desk and china cabinet. Seeing, touching and using the furniture enabled the students to make wise chooses for their projects.

I worked long hours administrating, recruiting students, collecting the fees and constant public relations. I loved talking to people I was in my element.

The students were surprised I had never carved and had no idea how to, I didn't want to know; if I had been able to carve I'd be teaching as well. No, I didn't want to know how to carve. I had enough to cope with.

My Showroom/Office with furniture made at the Academy

Bill slowly eased his way out of teaching he had sufficiently trained the new instructors. He decided we needed to open the Academy for exposure. He made the side fence adjacent to the footpath into a show window where carved furniture was displayed, this window also allowed the public to see the classes at work.

Great publicity, previously we had been working in a hidden basement with no advertising or phone; now with the phone connected and a virtual shop front open to the public word quickly spread.

The showroom was a bonus, most people who came in to look or make enquiries enrolled in the classes; they were impressed and excited at the prospect of being able to make for themselves such valuable unique pieces of furniture.

I regularly appeared on a local TV show 'A Touch of Elegance" always taking a student with me who proudly showed off the furniture they had carved with us. A huge hit was small and petite Rhoda Rose an eighty plus year young lady who wasn't the best carver, but her completed lounge setting various chair and mirrors looked stunning and seemingly impossible for a lady of Rhoda's tiny stature and age to accomplish. Appearing on 'A Touch of Elegance' was good advertising I was able to show the public how easy it was to own such unique furniture, especially as the assembling of the kits was professionally done in our factory after they carved it.

Students were taught the time consuming aspect of producing their unique furniture, the carving. They could chose a plain piece of furniture or a very elaborately carved piece, those whose main objective was the craft work chose the most elaborate designs, those who wanted furniture without hours of tedious intricate carving chose plainer designs. No matter what their choice the students achieved an original Bill Hoad design piece of quality furniture.

Rhoda Rose in her lounge with furniture she made at HWA

Hoad Woodcarving Academy thrived. We filled all time slots, morning, afternoon, twilight, evening and two classes on Saturday morning, the instructors were grateful for the opportunity to get paid for what they loved doing. The students were happy to be producing valuable future antiques and heirlooms.

Bill was happy to retreat to the privacy of his den and design or work on his current hobby knowing the Academy was in good hands. I was happy overseeing a prospering Academy.

I was experiencing a new confidence in myself the Academy gave me the opportunity to discover business managerial skills I didn't realise I possessed and with many accolades.

I realised running a business was so much easier than managing a household, family and husband. In business I was respected and revered, requests were instantly obeyed by conscientious capable staff; at home... oh dear...

Chaos with everyone seemingly set to 'rock the boat'; consequently rather than let the boat rock I found it easier to quietly do everything myself to avoid confrontation.

At work it was easy to abate problems, like people who don't do what is expected of them.

A household and family you are stuck with, and with no accolades.

# 

# Chapter 26

## Busy...Busy...Busy

We had plans to build a shop front on the Webbe Street side of the Academy for my 'rag trade' business in the spare rooms upstairs. We thought this business could provide a job for Le-Anne.

Bill drew his impression of what the new shop front of the building would look like, of course it looked great, but this proved to be a passing dream, before the idea progressed any further I was running flat out with the Academy demands. The Academy had become so popular it took all my time and energy. It became a successful business in such a short space of time that all thought of any other business went out of our minds.

The office/showroom was an added bonus to the Academy, another room was our families retreat complete with a lounge, television set and my sewing room. The huge cupboard in the centre of the room made an ideal cutting table. It was a pleasure to sew in this spacious room and I did every spare second, it was relaxing for me.

Another room was dedicated to kits which were in huge demand. Mark worked full time producing them. Bill reorganised the factory to mass produce kits rather than make an individual order, soon the factory was producing kits in excess to the student's requirements. This was progress, it was invaluable to have a ready supply and it was great there was room to store and display them. a huge bonus as the previous problems were caused through lack of kits.

Our factory was now mass producing kits with the help of extra machinists. We had taken on another apprentice. The $1000 incentive per apprentice was just that, an incentive, it worked.

I found myself totally involved and working full time at the Academy. I loved it. I loved the interaction with people. I felt I had the Academy back on track. I was in control of the instructors, there would be no more opportunity for them to defect but I was always careful to maintain a respectful camaraderie with them, even so I wouldn't be leaving them to their own devices as Bill had been forced to do when establishing the Academy on his own. There would be no opportunity afforded for dissatisfaction to breed amongst them.

The Academy was built partially underground, the walls of the whole building were about 40cms thick, the ceilings were 370cm high so it was easy to maintain an even temperature in the classrooms on the lower level. In summer ceiling fans and small air conditioners in the windows were adequate, in winter we had open fires in the built-in fireplaces in each room creating a cosy atmosphere.

The fire places served a twofold purpose, we were able to dispose of the factory off cuts much to the dismay of some students who wanted to 'save' off cuts of mahogany, cedar and other exotic imported timbers, but they were too small for practical use, besides they kept the Academy warm and cosy adding to the relaxed happy environment the students enjoyed.

I did all the cleaning, mundane maintenance and renovating of the Academy though had a cleaner at home. After completing each large renovating job I visited my jeweller friend on Norwood Parade to see what diamonds he had in stock, he had opened a Pandora's Box for me. He always had something special to show me and often raw diamonds which I couldn't justify paying such an exorbitant price for, even so I occasionally bought one and some unusual rings on his recommendation.

I had never drawn a wage from our businesses, no-one drew a wage, we bought what we needed with a communal cheque book which I closely monitored. So felt totally justified after the large renovation job of my showroom/office to shout myself a diamond, an apt payment; after all Bill and the boys indulged in motors and the like.

I daringly thought I'd like another permanent ear stud so purchased a diamond my jeweller offered me at $500 less than its value. I proudly announced to Bill in front of the class he was instructing "I've just saved you $500."

I could see the awe on the students faces as they wondered how I achieved saving that much. I told them I had to spend quite a bit to save it. It was amusing watching the expectant looks as I opened the pouch to show Bill and the students this tiny insignificant piece of glass, though $500 cheaper still cost a ridiculous amount. The students were horrified and watched Bill for his reaction.

None!

I felt as if I well and truly earned it anyway, and what's more I made a pact to myself I would always pay myself in diamonds on the successful completion of a large project.

I now have quite a few diamond ear studs, though in my later years I discovered manufactured diamonds at a realistic price, and even jewellers have trouble telling which are real and which aren't. Good enough for me, I'm happy with fake diamonds, and no-one really knows which are which including me.

This jeweller friend decided to open a hairdressing salon nearby, he encouraged me to have my hair looked after by the 'you beaut' hairdresser he had employed to manage the salon. I was a hairdresser's dream, so they told me, my hair was thick and easy to manage but what they loved most was I gave them free range to do whatever took their fancy, the only condition I stipulated, it had to blow dry in my Datsun 280ZX with the targa top off as I drove to work.

I particularly favored one local hairdresser; he had some wild ideas and executed them not letting me see the results until he was finished. He gave me some amasing styles like dying the back of my hair bright red the middle section from ear to ear auburn and the front strawberry blond, another time he did the back half ebony black and the front bleached blond, a massive contrast.

"But this is Port Adelaide colors" I protested "it should have been red and blue Norwood colors."

"Okay sit back down and I'll change it."

"No way! I haven't got time anyway."

I loved all his styles. He often chased after me as I walked past his salon "Please Eunice come in I need you today!"

I'm sure he used me to expel artistic frustrations.

One day he recommended I have a perm.

"Okay! Go for it."

The next visit he said "This hair is awful; it must be straightened."

"But only a couple of weeks ago you were the one who said it should be permed."

So, when my jeweller suggested I try his new salon with his imported 'you beaut' hairdresser I agreed.

I asked for a style and cut. OMG as I watched her cut I shuddered. I had to give her instructions even so I finished up the worst cut I have ever had, it was so short everywhere except for an ugly mullet. It was so bad I went straight to my jeweler and asked what he thought of it. He was speechless. He marched me straight back to the salon and instructed another girl "do what you can with this."  
She styled it to look presentable but it was so short now.

I was given unlimited free hair care until it got long enough to cut respectably. I never had another cut for many years, I was too afraid, consequently my hair grew long and thick which I kept blonde and colored myself not only saving many dollars, but many hours of time, a huge bonus for me. While the color/bleach was 'taking'(up to an hour) I was able to execute many jobs at home which pleased me immensely.

Our rental properties weren't so demanding now, replacing the flats with the factory and the small Dulwich unit which was securely leased and eventually sold to the tenant's son was a huge work load I was relieved of.

The beach house was let for most of the year, if it became vacant during the year our family enjoyed a holiday in it between tenants. I endeavored to maintain the high standard of council representation I had expected of myself. I still enjoyed the council responsibilities. I also found time to play squash, sing in the choir and enjoy the occasional much needed 'relaxant' illicit trysts.

I still wrote to mum every week; woe betide me if I didn't, and mum never failed to write to me each week either.

I didn't have time to clean at home so I employed a cleaner. It was so lovely to return from a long day at work to a lovely clean home... if I arrived home before the rest of the family; if I arrived after the kids it didn't look as if a cleaner had even been, they as usual dropped all their belongings and junk all over the house, even so I treasured my cleaner and endeavored to be home before anyone else arrived so as I could revel in my clean and tidy home for a few precious minutes before the tribe arrived.

I said to Bill one night as I was doing the dishes "I need help with the dishes."

I hoped he would help me.

"Get a dishwasher." he quickly replied.

"Tell me where I can put it and I will."

The original kitchen was so tiny, a wall had to be knocked out so a fridge could be fitted, there was absolutely no place a dishwasher could be installed.

"Turn that toilet into a pantry and put it in there."

Wow! How obvious. Why hadn't I thought of that, I had never liked the toilet next to the kitchen anyway, it would be good to get rid of it and we had enough toilets, one in each bathroom.

I had the toilet taken out. Good riddance! The plumbing was already in place for the dishwasher to be connected. I wanted to put the dishwasher on a shelf so I didn't have to bend. I rang our local electrical store and asked for a dishwasher that would fit on a shelf.

"We don't have one to fit on a shelf they don't make them to fit on shelves."

"What have you got in the way of dishwashers?"  
He recommended one which was the 'buy of the week'.

"Deliver it. I will make it fit on a shelf."  
My new pantry complete with dishwasher at a sensible height on a sturdy shelf Bill made was such a god send. That nook served as a pantry far better than as a toilet.

I asked the builder as he was finishing cutting out a wall for our new extensions.

"While you have got that cement cutter can you just cut around here?"  
I drew an arch around the kitchen door, this arch would allow a flow through to the new pantry. It would make the pantry and dishwasher more accessible.  
He gaped at me. "No!" he said "I can't do it unless your husband says so."  
I couldn't convince him it would be okay. When Bill came home he said to the builder

"Do what the lady says."  
Typical of the male species of that era: not accepting female authority.

What a journey this year had been for me. I hadn't planned it. I never planned anything. I had been kept busy enough just keeping up with my duties before I began working at the Academy. This year I attacked the challenges as they were unwittingly presented to me. I attacked them in the most practical commonsense way I knew and "Bingo" I found myself the head of a large successful business.

Bill expected me to run our self-made empire, he left it entirely up to me. I did. He was content back in his blissful world designing and doodling without a worry in the real world. If there was a problem I knew I had to fix it, he didn't want to know about it.

I enjoyed the challenge and responsibility; my aim was to keep all our students happy. I think I did, I know the Academy was a happy environment for everyone including me. No problem was unsolvable.

I was becoming even more capable and confident as I successfully managed our expanding businesses, not only our rental properties but the Academy with two hundred and forty students a week attending from all over Australia, and the administration of a busy cabinetmaking factory as well.

Bill with nothing to do but design dreamed up many potential schemes which he expected me to take on, but they were so outlandish I wasn't enthused I was working flat out with what we had.

Bill continued dreaming up way out ideas all with the possibility of another easy income; he'd put his ideas to me in the hope I would take them on board and execute. These ideas and dreams were becoming more and more unrealistic. Unless I could see the completed project in my mind as well as the path to achieving that challenge I wasn't prepared to spend my time and energies on 'dreams'.

My suggestion of executing his schemes himself weren't an option, he ignored me. I knew he wasn't capable.

I was full time keeping up with the everyday running of our business. I was learning by demand using common sense; I hadn't had any training in business management. I was managing each situation as it arose. A form of 'Crisis Management' I realise now, but then I knew no different, and it didn't matter, everyone was happy and I felt in total control; and every cent of our income went in our bank account which was growing rapidly.

We really looked forward to six weeks of summer holidays at the end of this the first year of the eighties. What a year it had been. I found I had unwittingly become a business woman: full time. It was so necessary for me to recharge my batteries.

I didn't realise how exhausted I was until we settled into the beach house and I slept for the first three days. This holiday was so needed and enjoyed; we spent time together as a family which hadn't been happening during the year. I had been so busy establishing the Academy. Bill had been fully occupied at the factory and designing. The kids all had their own individual hobbies; it seemed our family all did their own thing their own way all at different venues and times.

It was so good to be all together at our beach house with no commitments; we had time to appreciate our kids and how they had developed over the year. They had grown even more than usual this year; they were now responsible teenagers; they each had their own group of friends who visited and stayed over. These holidays were so precious to us all.

Bill also enjoyed it here, he settled into designing without interruptions, each holiday he designed and developed a completely new piece of furniture which the students came to expect. These lady students worked their ways with him, he enjoyed the accolades they showered upon him as they admired each new masterpiece he produced.

Bill as usual when relaxed during these holidays not only designed but dreamed up more schemes. These holidays a shack was for sale a few blocks away. He surprised me by suggesting we should buy it.

"It's on a huge block and could prove to be a good investment, and it's so cheap."  
I never gave it much thought until one morning he insisted I have a look at it, he had acquired the key. I enjoyed not having to dress up each day at the beach house, I changed out of my nighty into my bathers during the day, then back into my nighty at night.

Early on this morning Bill emphatically insisted I "come and have a look, now!" I was still in my nightie; his insistence was so emphatic I hopped straight in the car with him.

I briefly looked through the basic old asbestos clad shack, then still in my nightie Bill drove us directly to the agent where I felt compelled to sign a contract to buy this shack. I wasn't in thinking mode; my mind was in recovery limbo holiday mode. Never mind Bill must have thought it a good buy. I thought it quite bizarre I had bought a property while still in my nightie and before we had even had breakfast.

"What are we going to buy it with? We don't have that much spare cash?"

"Borrow it. A loan on the shack as collateral should be obtainable. You can organise it."  
Yes I knew I could but wasn't sure I should, it didn't feel right.  
The shack cost $9,000. We borrowed $9,300 (because we could) to cover extra expenses. This shack had a single lock up shed in the back yard. Bill wanted that shed to store his 1927 Chevrolet, which he did (before he sold it to his mate).

This shack proved to be a massive headache for me. Even though it was completely fitted out for walk in walk out living, it was hard to get suitable tenants. The shack was just that, a shack, the type of tenant we preferred and had always been privileged with wouldn't live in this lowly building even though it was well equipped with all the necessaries. I was forced to let it to the only people who were prepared to live in it, rather suspect looking folks.

This was a huge learning curb for me. I realised good quality properties attracted respectable responsible tenants, while substandard properties attracted desperadoes, even then you were lucky to get anyone to consider renting them, even people on the dole preferred nicer homes.

The tenants I finally leased it to, the only ones interested, were very suspect and didn't stay the term of their lease and of course left not only a huge mess but owing weeks of rent. The two weeks bond I held was a drop in the ocean, nowhere near covering costs. These tenants had nothing to lose by living there as long as they could, which they did.

I made many trips to Aldinga to sort out problems at this property. I couldn't believe I had been stupid enough to agree to buy such a lowly property. I had trusted Bill, he had always made sound decisions which proved beneficial and profitable, this purchase was not of sound thinking.

About the time we bought this shack the Government established The Residential Tribunal with heaps of new regulations for the landlord and the tenant to abide by. I attended a Government initiated meeting for Landlords informing us of changes in the rental market. This tribunal would hold the bonds, oversee all rental properties and be the arbitrator of all disputes; it was set up to protect the tenant from unscrupulous landlords. I was livid. I was a fair and reasonable landlord.

"Who is going to protect the landlord from unscrupulous tenants? I asked.

There are laws and regulations within the Tribunal to protect the landlord as well." I was told.

I knew there were unscrupulous landlords some of our tenants had related unbelievable stories about their previous landlords. I was a fair and just landlord why should I be penalised because of a few greedy ones?

I studied these new regulations. I could see massive loopholes for the tenant, especially bad tenants like the ones we had in our shack. The Tribunal would hold four weeks rent as bond money and decide who should be paid at the end of the lease after applications and disputes were settled. Our practice had been a bond of two weeks rent and the tenant paying two weeks rent in advance, if they deferred payment for two weeks we kicked them out, not that this ever happened with the class of tenants we chose (the shack being the exception).

This new Tribunal and regulations would have an impact on us; especially with the Government holding the bond. We had enjoyed the use of the two weeks bond and two weeks advanced rent which was quite considerable with all our properties. We requested two weeks' notice when the tenant was leaving; they then used the two weeks rent up. I always refunded the bond in full. I wasn't picky with inspecting the vacated premises, so long the tenant had made an effort to clean up on vacation I was happy to refund in full. I never expected tenants to clean as I would, though occasionally I was pleasantly surprised to find premises left immaculate.

Of grave concern to me was the length of time the tribunal took to settle disputes, we as landlords would be without rent for many weeks while disputes were in the lengthy process of being settled. I managed our properties without ever losing a day's rent. There were many other regulations which supported unscrupulous tenants as well; it seemed the landlord who invested money in property was being punished with what seemed to us unreasonable restrictions. How dare the government dictate to us how to manage our investments? I was not happy nor was Bill.

The shack at Aldinga was the turning point in our residential letting, after a few unsuitable tenants we experienced the ultimate, a group of young people who didn't pay the rent after the first payment which they confiscated through the government. I had played the Residential Tribunal's game. Along with reams of bureaucratical paper work I paid the Tribunal the bond the tenants had scrounged up from 'relief' agencies; but the tenant didn't pay any more rent.

I contacted the Tribunal who were now the only body legally able to remove tenants. There was only one inspector at this time, retired Mayor of Norwood Jack Richards who we knew and respected for his support in council when we were establishing our Academy.

Weeks passed, nothing happened, Jack was run off his feet, it would take a considerable amount of time for him to travel to Aldinga to vacate tenants. I knew Jack to be a gentle soul and couldn't see him doing any more than I was able to do to evict these tenants; all the while the tenants were enjoying free rent and would stay until evicted.

We knew they would never have the capacity to pay the rent owing, they would squat there as long as possible and this new Residential Tribunal made it possible for them to legally do so, they had nothing to lose and free accommodation to enjoy; in the meantime we are repaying the mortgage.

I was fed up with waiting. I rang Jack and told him I was going to Aldinga that day to "do your job."

I did. I virtually kicked these untidy young tenants out then and there. To my surprise on my way home who should I meet but Jack heading to Aldinga after a long lunch to see 'what was happening!'  
He instantly recognised me as I was driving the open genuine 1908 Renault replica.

"All done!" I said "You can turn around and go home."  
He gratefully did after thanking me.

I didn't waste this trip to Aldinga; I called into Maslin Beach and spent a luxurious few hours nestled in the sand totally relaxing. I wasn't going to waste a day just chasing bad tenants. Fleur also enjoyed the day, she knew I was going to the beach when I packed a beach towel and suntan oil, I couldn't possibly have left home without her, she would never forgive me.

What a mess these tenants left the shack in, well not only a mess but destruction of all the interior and contents, plus they covered the walls with graffiti messages and threats. I felt quite sick. I insisted Bill help me clean it up, it was way too big a job for me to do alone. We took most of the interior contents to the dump. We left it vacant and put it on the market. No-one wanted to buy it. We had to sell it for $10,000 or we would be out of pocket.

While we were trying to sell the shack Shane wanted to spend a weekend in it with a mate. I thought it a good idea to utilise the shack allowing the young teenagers to experience a weekend of independence. They weren't old enough to drive so I drove the excited boys to the shack loaded with supplies telling them I would pick them up in two days' time, unless they rang me from the public telephone booth.

When I arrived back to collect them they were quite docile. I suspected something was wrong. My suspicions were justified. The shower head had an electric antiquated hot water heating unit attached, as Shane tried to adjust the shower, his feet on the wet floor, he was zapped, his hand adhered to the shower head, he screamed, his mate came and dragged him away. They were very lucky and shaken up.

The top of the shower head had been removed exposing the electrics. I shuddered at the thought of possibilities. I believed Shane and his friend was very lucky to have escaped with only burns and shock. The tenants had obviously tampered with this unit rendering it a potential killer. We immediately had the power disconnected.

We had never lost money on property in fact quite the contrary; we always made a handsome profit. This was a first; we finally sold this shack at a huge loss. I couldn't believe Bill had made such a bad decision. I would pay more attention to what I signed to buy in future.

The introduction of the Residential Tribunal resulted in us retreating from leasing residential properties, we wouldn't buy anymore we had enjoyed a successful run but now felt it was time to move on, anyway we had enough properties to maintain.

The building of the Academy at Norwood was proving to be an excellent investment it was now worth four times what we paid for it, or rather paying for. The Kensington factory was freehold and also increasing in value with the 'existing use' 'light industry' rights it enjoyed especially as the council had recently rezoned the area to Residential.

Our beach house also freehold provided some income from selected tenants. Our now quite large Hectorville home only had a small bank loan. We were in a very comfortable position with our properties and our successful Academy.

Our Hectorville home was fifteen years old and looking tired, it needed a revamp. Bill was too busy to consider such mundane chores, so was I, so I closed my eyes to it.

Shane attending Pembroke College was an educational farce costing us a fortune. The Academy and I would benefit with Shane working with me and learning to run the Academy. We approached the Dean of the college she agreed for Shane to leave school if the Minister for Education approved. _I think the Dean was relieved_.

The Minister visited us at the Academy to be sure we could sustain Shane's employment. Jobs were still scarce and many kids who left school were soon on the dole. The Minister again was impressed, he could see our business was flourishing and Mark still employed; he congratulated us.

"I wish more parents would do this for their children."

Shane at fourteen years old took over most of my duties during the day. I looked after the evening classes. Shane was very good at this job, his P/R skills were even better than mine. He amased me with his natural ability to literally charm our students, potential students and visitors, he became well known to businesses on the Norwood Parade and when they realised he was my son I was demoted to 'Shane's mum'.

"Oh! YOU are Shane's mum."

I was losing my individual identity. I didn't mind (after the initial shock) I loved it that my kids could be leaders and personalities. Shane had not only survived his neglected (by me) childhood, but excelled, though seemingly under the radar because although I knew he was there he never demanded attention and so he didn't get any, he was always 'just there' but insignificantly so. Because we were practicing 'birth control' with no plans for a third child Bill often said "Shane has been sent along for a reason".  
I was beginning to see this prediction unfolding.

Shane working at the Academy allowed me to regularly take a day off. I'd take Fleur to Maslin Beach where I oiled up my nude body and lay in the sun, totally oblivious to all and literally let the sun ooze all tension out of me. These days of total relaxation at Maslin Beach absolutely revived me.

I heard of a 'natural health establishment' in an inner suburb, it was an average home with the rooms opened to create a reception lounge area and change rooms. The private leafy back courtyard featured a small pool and large spa. I thought this a great find; I could relax in one of the many comfortable day lounges around the pool... yes... in the nude. I used these facilities often, it saved me many an hour of travel time to Maslin Beach; even though I couldn't have Fleur with me.

I enjoyed the freedom of nude bathing and sunning so near work. I especially enjoyed the magic spa with its many variations of jets. This spa comfortably held a dozen people (without touching), it was interesting watching how each person reacted as they projected a pose of relaxed innocence. I wondered how many enjoyed exquisite orgasms biting their tongues as I did.

This establishment may sound seedy but I never witnessed or was involved in anything offensive, in fact I felt comfortable and safe in this environment.

I enjoyed the freedom Bill afforded me. I pushed the limits as far as I knew I could without causing resistance from him; he was engrossed in his designing and happy in his own world. He enjoyed lunching each day in a trendy café in the new Parade Mall. I knew he lunched there daily because it was detailed on the credit card I paid each month.

I was too busy at work to take time off for a cafe lunch, I usually had a healthy sandwich on the run I brought from home; I didn't really want to spend time or money eating cafe food or have lunch with Bill, not that he ever invited me to join him. I was happy to be left out of Bill's world and do my own thing, though I was always on the alert should I overstep my mark and cop a vicious reprimand from him.

I relished in the knowledge guys were attracted to me, I encouraged their attention I loved it. My sexual feelings were still rampart, (when I stopped long enough to feel). I was grateful for the spa at the natural health resort.

I was attracted to good looking successful extroverted guys, and there were aplenty. I couldn't take to guys who looked anything like my father or my boys, or those who had a beer belly such as Bill had developed. I enjoyed flirting; I enjoyed the confidence I had gained. I figured if I worked like a man I should be able to enjoy men's privileges. I still enjoyed the occasional trysts with James and even though Bill and I had sex often I was never fully satisfied.

I was so horny and searching... so desperate was I... I felt tempted to accept the occasional invitation to lunch with other men. Damn it! What is wrong with me? I am a happy married woman! Men do it all the time, I work like a man so damn it I should be able to do it too.  
I appeased myself at the spas instead.

I was feeling bold, daring and wanting when a girlfriend approached me about joining her and her husband (I'll call them Jack and Jill) for a night of... I didn't quite know what, but I expectantly accepted.

Why not?

Bill and I both knew this couple and I knew Jack much better than Jill realised, thus his prompting her to invite me to join them.

What a great night this was, many orgasms in many different ways, my only regret was that we couldn't share this wonderful experience with Bill. I would have loved him to partake with us in this wonderful communal mutual experience. I didn't dare say anything to him I knew he would have been appalled.

Not long after this night at a party with many friends including this couple there was a bit of shenanigans going on, especially in the pool. Bill swam over to me and apologetically whispered "I entered Jill."

Great! I thought, maybe it will lead to something more and we can freely discuss our sexual needs. As the days passed Bill became quieter and more introverted, then out of the blue burst forth accusing me of not caring.

"Why aren't you jealous? I entered another woman don't you care?"

Oh dear! And I thought it may be the beginnings of open discussions and maybe exploring together with these friends.

Wrong! I was in trouble and had to wear it. I must keep my sexual feelings and experiences absolutely to myself. It's the price I had to pay for my indiscretions even though I felt justified in what I was doing.

My sexual desires were running ramped. I couldn't control them. I enjoyed these feelings and wanted more. I was hurting no-one if I kept my tryst strictly to myself what harm could I cause?

My feelings hadn't changed towards Bill but I was yearning for feelings we hadn't shared in all the years of our marriage, it was luring me into adultery which I justified by knowing I could have secret trysts with absolute discretion and secrecy without interruption to the Academy, our household and family and indeed without compromising my relationship with my husband, in fact I was sure it would enhance our marriage.

In the meantime I would keep myself busy and engrossed in my day to day responsibilities which were a plenty.

# Chapter 27

## My Hobbies and the Wedding

Shane taking over administrating the day classes allowed me time to paint the exterior of our home at Hectorville. I knew Bill would never do it. I used the efficient antiquated scaffolding my parents had used for their renovations.

In my bikini I followed the sun, covered in baby oil, baby oil had a twofold purpose, sun tanning (or frying) and repelling paint and insects. I painted the gutters, and exterior woodwork as a form of relaxation. Working inside at the Academy fulltime I couldn't spend time enjoying my favorite pastime... sun tanning. I missed the sun, so on not so busy days I enjoyed taking in the sun while painting the east side of the house in the mornings, the north side during the middle of the day, and the west side during late afternoon. I didn't worry about the south side that was the back of the house not only hidden from the street but mostly in the shade.

I was solar charged. I loved the sun and was paranoid about having no white parts of my body exposed beyond my clothes so I was always naked or topless when in the sun. At Maslin Beach there wasn't a problem but at the other beaches I was always topless though didn't flaunt myself, I discreetly sun baked without a top half expecting to be chastised by authorities but I had prepared my response. I would point to each man and say "That person over there isn't wearing a top. That person over there isn't wearing a top etc.etc."

I would test the theory of 'Equal Rights' the new way of living emerging in Australia. I never had the opportunity to test this theory.

With Shane working I not only painted our home I was able to play more squash. I played competitions Tuesday nights and Wednesday mornings, practice on Friday with Jill at Goodwood Bowl, Saturday club practice and on some days I'd hit with one of the staff. I was totally addicted to squash, total exertion absolutely rejuvenated me as did my days in the sun. I had developed a healthy mix lifestyle for my personal wellbeing. The icing on the cake was our squash team night out at the end of each season where our actions were rather less than ethical. Oops. I say no more.

At first Bill was dubious about me going out at nights, as the seasons passed he came to accept me going out and returning home extremely late. I always felt guilty and wondered when he would baulk and retaliate about me getting home so late, but he was always asleep when I arrived home and never complained. I took advantage of his acceptance or ignorance and began staying out later and later.

I realise now he may have bombed himself out with alcohol he had become a heavy drinker, he drank alternate tumblers full of Club Port and whisky daily until he went to bed usually well after midnight (so he said) I was always asleep when he came to bed or he was asleep when I got home in the morning hours.

Bill never appeared drunk or acted stupid consequently I accepted his indulgence not realising how much he drank. I heard him bragging he never started drinking until five in the evening. I couldn't contain myself.

"Big deal! You don't get up until after midday."

I did worry about repercussions of mixing alcohol with the strong anti-depressants he still took.

I was also drinking every night which relaxed me consequently I'd fall asleep during my favorite TV shows, I usually woke up and went to bed halfway through the show I wanted to watch. I drank hock and orange juice I found myself drinking more and more and looked forward to my drink every night. Bill was happy for me to drink alcohol but he didn't like me drinking orange juice, he often made derogatory comments about "orange juice being no good for you."

Mark and Shane also drank beer, full strength longnecks (750mls) at a young age. They were working boys it was acceptable for them to drink even though they legally weren't of age, it was normal for guys to drink beer. It was the macho Aussie way of life. They were dinkum Aussie guys.

Their local was Kensington Hotel, when they each turned twenty-one, they shouted the bar; everyone was gob smacked especially the Publican who had been serving them beers for many years.

The Presidential Card introduced us to eating out and we enjoyed eating out as a family and did, often. I could never gather everyone together for a meal at home and I don't blame them, my cooking was basic, but they rallied around if we went to a restaurant.

The Presidential card offered a free meal for each meal paid for; we could eat at selected restaurants for virtually half price, making it affordable for us.

These meals were excellent for bonding and discussing our business problems and progress as a family. I loved these mealtimes endeavoring to have them on the evenings after my cleaner had been, to eat out and return to a clean home was the end of a perfect day for me... well... after we made love. My secret trysts stirred my senses something fierce and Bill was always ready to oblige, he asked no questions, he was happy... but I was mostly left wanting. Just as well there was tomorrow!!!!

Bill and I found ourselves childless some nights. The kids were busy doing their own thing, they were happy to grab a Big Mac or Whopper from the newly opened MacDonald's and Hungry Jacks near home. I was quite relieved they preferred these meals to my cooking I didn't enjoy cooking, I cooked because it was my responsibility.

When Bill and I were both home at dinner time it was good to be able to use the Presidential card and go to a participating restaurant alone and have a lovely meal each for the price of one over a bottle of wine. I loved these quiet dinners believing we absolutely deserved to spoil ourselves giving us a chance to renew our relationship and cement our solid marriage.

We usually had a few drinks before we left home and were in a happy frame of mind on arrival at the restaurant. Dinner and more drinks loosened our tongues. We talked more over these dinners than anywhere else. It was great to be able to discuss work. Bill said many times how proud he was of the way I had established and maintained control of the Academy, and how proud he was of Mark and Shane for their tireless efforts and contributions to the Academy also Le-Anne's help at the Academy in her rare spare time.

Le-Anne was doing very well at TAFE College learning Fashion Design as well as her dancing, music and singing classes. I felt a little guilty about leaving the kids to their own devices until I heard Maggie Tabbera say on the television "The best gift you can give your kids is to shove them out of the nest."

Wow" I thought "I have unwittingly done something right."  
I felt I had been ignoring the kids as I pursued work, my hobbies, and self. Maggie's comment had relieved me somewhat of my guilt leaving the kids to their own devices as often as I did.

"Just push them out! You'll be doing then a favor!"

Maggie Tabbera was my idol. I grew to know her on the television show Beauty and the Beast with Stuart Wagstaff which I regularly watched. I loved the clothes she wore and the Maggie T label she designed. Maggie designed clothes to cover up the not so perfect figure for larger ladies. I loved them. There was no obesity in this era, so no larger fashion frocks were available. Maggie T designs were appreciated by the larger lady.

Maggie was the first lady I saw ever wear trousers; she compered a fashion parade on television wearing a black trouser suit complete with tie. It was rather a shock to see our glamorous Maggie dressed so masculine though still looking a million dollars. That was the beginning of the trouser for woman's fashion. Thank you Maggie!

Mum endeavored to see us at least once a year, now we holidayed at our beach house each summer we didn't go to Ceduna very often, so mum drove her car to Adelaide accompanied by a friend to share the driving. I knew mum wouldn't approve of the way we now lived. Busy. Busy.

Although mum had accepted we didn't attend church or say grace before each meal she was a stickler for regimented living. Our life now was anything but regimented. I wasn't home much and we had meals at odd times to suit us individually.

This year her holiday with us was a disaster. I just didn't have time to spend with her at home, she was out of her depth at the Academy, she was left to her own devices and home on her own a lot.

I know mum would have (in her words) 'poked around' and 'discovered' the bottles of alcohol in the cupboards and the empties in the bin, she would not have approved. My suspicions were right. From then on mum never gave me any more monetary support. She would have thought if we can afford to buy alcohol we don't need or deserve her generous support. I was too busy to worry about the ramifications of this visit.

I enjoyed dressing in my own designed clothes each day, there were always lots of comments mostly complimentary. I loved to dress different to the normal staid fashions. I enjoyed sewing in the family room upstairs at the Academy and as usual every spare moment I had I sewed. It was relaxing. The many compliments urged me on to make even more outlandish but practical clothes for my new position in the "House of Hoad" which I had aptly named the Academy property. I had a sign made and attached on the front wall of the building.

I registered my dressmaking business "House of Hoad" and had labels made to sew on each garment I created. I became even more selective in what I sewed for other people. I now sewed only for weddings because I enjoyed the challenge and diversity of wedding clothes and the mention of 'wedding' justified exorbitant charges brides expected to pay.

Our family retreat room at the Academy had become primarily my sewing room. I moved all my sewing apparatus from home, I enjoyed heaps more space at the Academy. I didn't mind being at the Academy full time if in idle moments I was able to sew. I was happy!

I put a three-line ad in the classified section of the Advertiser for pattern making. I could make a pattern to fit any body in a short amount of time which paid me ten times more an hour than if I sewed the garment. I developed a comfortable steady clientele primarily weddings. Time was at a premium I never had enough of it and sewing for others would take too much time so I promoted pattern making which proved a lucrative aside for me, plus a bit of cash.

"House of Hoad" provided me with an elite profile; most of my work came from recommendations, usually from weddings. I loved working on weddings. I absolutely understood brides and their unusual mood swings. I knew how to calm and reassure them. I prided myself in getting into their heads and understanding their needs and producing exactly the gown they requested without any hassles.

I also mastered handling the mother of the bride who was usually the one who sewed the frock after I drafted it or the one who was paying for it if I made it. I spent as much time as was necessary with the bride and her dressmaker to be sure I knew exactly what they wanted, always in the impressionable grand office/showroom seated on hand carved velvet upholstered chairs with coffee served on matching side tables.

I meticulously took the brides measurements and told them I'd ring them when the pattern was ready, or if I was making the frock when it was ready for the fitting. I always did the work straight away while the details were still clear in my mind. The only boo boo I ever made was when I left a job for a few weeks, I forgot a simple detail which changed the style of the gown. Never again did I procrastinate.

I drafted the patterns and had the garment ready for a 'fitting' a few hours after the appointment but I always waited a couple of weeks before I rang the client.

"Your pattern is ready." or

"Your wedding frock is ready for a fitting"

Without fail they said "Already? That was quick!"  
I couldn't possibly have told them it had been ready ages or they would have thought it was too easy and maybe not worth the price I quoted.

I insisted the dressmaker come with the bride to collect the pattern so I could explain the pattern in detail. I needed to be convinced the dressmaker understood the pattern and was confident in sewing it up. I always assured them that if ever they have any problems to come back and see me. No-one ever did.

Sometimes if the skirt of the gown was very full and a long train was requested, rather than making a paper skirt pattern I offered to cut it straight out of the fabric for an extra charge. This offer was easier for me because the fabric told me where to cut to get the maximum fullness without wasting a skerrick of fabric, drafting a long full skirt pattern from paper would be a total guess and would result in needing much more fabric with heaps of waste. I couldn't stand waste for myself or anyone else. Still can't!

Many brides' dressmakers opted for the option of cutting the frock straight out of the fabric. Most home dressmakers were terrified of cutting into expensive fabrics especially wedding gown fabric. I loved it. I prided myself on my wedding gown skirts and trains. My clients were very happy too, they acquired very full skirts and long trains with meters less fabric than they originally thought they needed.

I usually only needed one fitting, with my drafted pattern I knew the gown would be a perfect fit even so I was always amased how a gown came to life when I put it on the client for the fitting. I knew I did everything technically correct but until the gown was on a person it was just a mass of fabric, once it was on the owner it came alive, it always gave me a wonderful thrill. No job was too hard for me. I loved the challenge.

Well I was given one... a challenging challenge.

My friend Margaret came to the Academy, it was only a few weeks after Prince Charles and Lady Di were married.

"Eunice I have a request for you, you can say no if you like, but my niece is getting married and she asked me if I knew of a dressmaker because she wants a 'way out' frock made for her 'way out' extravagant wedding; her flamboyant extroverted mother is paying for it all. I thought I'd ask you first before I recommended you. If anyone can handle them, you can. What do you think?"

"Bring it on."

Margaret brought Jodie the bride and Barbara her mother to see me. I instantly felt a connection with them. Barbara was adamant this was going to be the wedding of the year; every element of this wedding was to be on a grand scale.

"Well Barbara you have made the first right move... choosing me."

"Look out Lady Di!" I thought.  
Jodie a high profile jockey explained how she wanted her frock.

"The bodice high to the neck topped with a vicar style band and Victorian frill upwards from it, the sleeves very puffed high and wide gathered into elbow length fitted cuffs fastened with a row of closely set small self-made buttons"  
she took a breath and continued "The bodice must be perfectly fitted and very tight especially at the waist, and I want a huge very full gathered skirt, way out there, and way out there" she said as she gestured high and long to the right and then to the left "and the back also to be very long all gathered into a tight fitted waistline. I don't want a zip. I want the same self-made buttons as on the sleeves all the way down my back, and I want a frill all around the bottom of the skirt. Got that?"

I sure did. I was excited. I proceeded to take her measurements. She was so tiny. I told her the amount of gathers she wanted in the skirt couldn't possibly fit into her tiny waist?

"Make them fit."  
I asked if she was strong enough to cope with such a large skirt.

"Of course, it's what I want!"  
I got the message. This gown was to be the most extravagant exaggerated design ever. I would enjoy creating it.

My tape measure was only one and a half meters long. How do I measure the length of the skirt? She wanted it much longer than that? I knew she wanted it longer than normal. By chance Mark was nearby he had his cabinet making tape on him.

"Can I borrow your tape for a moment please Mark?"  
I asked Jodie to hold the tape to her waist and imagine it was fabric while I measured it out to the length she wanted... two meters... three meters?

"No keep going."... four meters..."No keep going!"... five meters... "keep going!"

I was now out the door in the hallway, I had run out of room and tape.

"You can't have it any longer I haven't a longer tape measure and no more room either."

"Just a bit more please"

"Okay, about five and a half meters, that's the length of the train, how wide do you want the sides of the skirt?" I dared ask.

"The same!"

I tried to explain the complications of wearing such a huge long and wide full skirt and the practicality of wearing it, but no she was adamant that's what she wanted.

Well I would deliver... and enjoy every minute of it.

How much material would it take? I had no idea.

"Oh" Barbara said "we want the bridesmaids and flower girl to be made in the same fabric."

"Who is making them?"

"We are hoping you will."

"How many are there? And what style?" I tentatively asked.

"Only three!"

The bridesmaid frocks were simple long classic gowns, a sensible gathered skirt and normal puffed sleeves to just above the elbow. The flower girl, Margaret's four year old daughter Sheryl's frock was identical to the brides with a fully gathered but normal floor length skirt.

They were all to be made in the same fabric as the bride's gown. I could see these gowns all made up and the effect would be just stunning. Barbara didn't care how much material I used, I knew we would need heaps. I suggested they go to Johnsons Fabrics who specialised in evening fabrics and choose what they wanted. We decided we'd start with a full roll, fifty meters, then buy more if we needed it from a second roll Johnsons would hold for us. I told her to get a light fabric or it would be too heavy and uncomfortable to wear.

Next day Barbara struggles in to proudly deliver a roll of satin fabric.

"How is this? It was the lightest they had two rolls of."  
I could see how Barbara struggled to carry the roll; it was heavy. I explained this heavy satin wouldn't achieve the look Jodie wanted, and most of the roll would go into making Jodie's frock making it too heavy and uncomfortable to wear. It was imperative we get suitable fabric.

"Do you mind if I take this back and see what other fabric they have?"  
Luckily Barbara didn't mind. I took the unopened roll back and found a part roll of fine shot silk almost like parachute silk. It would be ideal: but, could they get two more rolls of it? Phone calls were made. Yes they could, but not for a couple of weeks. Okay I would have to work around that even though I wanted to start immediately. Jodie and Barbara were happy with the sample I showed them especially when I explained Lady Di's gown was pure silk, this silk had polyester, it wouldn't crease.

"We trust you."

"Good you can."

While waiting for the fabric to arrive I planned the logistics of this project and drafted all the patterns so when the fabric arrived I could start immediately. I hoped like crazy Johnsons were able to get the special silk fabric; I didn't want to think of the consequences of it not being available.

Logistics: Where and how do I cut out a five-and-a-half-meter long skirt? No room I owned was large enough. Luckily I was council representative and Treasurer/Hiring Officer of two Senior Citizen halls at Hectorville. I now had a good rapport with the many local community groups that hired the halls; they hadn't always agreed causing much concern for the council. I had liaised with them and sorted out their disagreements. I had a good rapport with them, they were happy for me to use the halls. These halls would be ideal.

Good news. The fabric arrived it was so soft and light: simply perfect.

The large hall used for dances and games was perfect for designing and cutting out the skirt, the smaller carpeted hall would be perfect for fittings. I knew exactly when the halls were available and had prepared myself to work during these times.

The five meter plus long panels for the skirts would have to be cut out on the floor, no table was big enough so the wooden dance floor had to be thoroughly cleaned, it was a mammoth job sweeping and washing it. I again borrowed Marks five meter measuring tape for drafting and started this massive project.

I had to work efficiently to utilise the limited time the halls were available, I wanted to get the bulk of the work done in one day because I didn't want to wash the floor again.

My careful planning worked, I was easily able to design and cut the fabric with the luxury of so much space and unlimited fabric, I was in my element. I quickly cut into the roll. I had no idea how much fabric I was using and it didn't matter once I had the length measured out I happily cut away, the fabric telling me where to cut.

There were many panels in the skirt because the fabric was only 1.15cm in width, each panel was flared and each getting longer to form the train, it was imperative the panels be sewn together in the correct order. I arranged them in order over the floor as I cut them; soon I had this extravagant skirt laid out across the dance floor ready to join up, forty six meters of fabric in the skirt alone, with not a skerrick of wastage.

I had my sewing machine with me knowing it would be far easier to sew the panels one at a time straight from the floor rather than pack them up to do another day. It worked, and in record time with no problems I had the skirt panels all sewn up. It looked just perfect. I was happy. I was sure Jodie and Barbara would be happy.

I was so happy the long panels of the skirt were sewn together: the bodice of the bride and the attendants gowns I'd enjoy doing in my spare time at the Academy where there was ample space to design and sew 'normal' clothes. I enjoyed every minute working on these gowns.

The bridesmaids were easy to make, the flower girl frock was a little more involved being identical to the brides though it had the volume in the skirt it didn't have the length or a train. The bridal gown was easy to make but so time consuming, the frill around the bottom of the skirt must have been a mile long which I had to sew around three times, roll hemming the top and the bottom edges and then the gathering stitch before I sewed it on. It took days of spare time.

Jodie a well-known jockey as was her husband to be, didn't want anyone to see the frocks before the wedding, it would be a celebrity wedding and they wanted the details to be kept secret. I made sure no details were leaked or peeked at on my premises; the condition was I could have the frock back after the wedding to be displayed at the Academy so the woodcarvers could see what had kept me quietly working behind closed doors.

The gowns were ready for fittings. The carpeted hall was perfect for this purpose, the frocks would be always on carpet and there was plenty of room for the bride her mother, three attendants and flower girl and her mother Margaret to move freely.

It was another logistic nightmare getting the gowns to the hall and setting them up for fittings. Mission accomplished. Everyone was so excited, especially me.

The bridesmaid's frocks all fitted perfectly, the bridesmaids were a tittering mess of excitement and amased at how lovely they looked even half-finished. Sheryl looked just divine in her mini bridal frock also fitting her perfectly.

Now for the bride's fitting! They were all aghast at the volume of it, even Jodie.

"I didn't think it would be that big."

"I tried to warn you... and it would have been far too bulky and heavy in the satin, but this silk is light and manageable."

"I love it! It is just what I wanted. You are so clever." She raved on.  
Barbara was beside herself with excitement and pride.  
The gown fitted perfectly only needing many hours of sewing to complete which I would enjoy doing.

They wanted me to make the veil, also long and lavish. I talked them out of having the veil longer than the gown there would be too much pull on her head with a veil catching on everything. I explained if it lay on top of the skirt it would be slightly more manageable.

When all the gowns were finished they asked me to store them until the wedding day, they didn't have sufficient safe space away from dogs and kids.

Bill and I were invited to the wedding. I wouldn't have missed it for the world and I especially wanted to see the wedding cake they had described to me. Barbara had "found another clever person" who enjoyed "going overboard" creating a nine tiered cake but spread over eight feet featuring rivers, bridges, horse carriages etc. They had a great imagination to dream up such outlandish ideas. I loved being a part of it all.

I was asked to attend the wedding ceremony rehearsal, just as well. I had to choreograph the wedding ceremony so the bridal gown wouldn't get tangled in the altars, pedestals, pews, etc. there wasn't a lot of room to maneuver. I had joined three double sheets together and attached them around Jodie's waist to give an idea of the dimensions they would have to deal with.

The wedding day arrived; it was a dismal day threatening with rain. The weather just added to the pandemonium of the wedding party. Jodie had asked me to help her get dressed, just as well, the bridesmaids and Barbara were in a hypoactive tiss barely able to dress themselves let alone assist Jodie.

Getting Jodie into her gown was an exercise in expertise and patience, the tiny buttons I tediously made, dozens of them down the length of her back and from wrist to elbows had to be individually threaded through the self-loops... and undone to get out of the gown. Jodie was going to spend the whole of her wedding day in her gown including travelling to their honeymoon suite.

"How are you going to get out of it?" I asked

"I hope your new husband has a deft hand." Jody gave me a sly smile.

Jodie and I insisted a photo be taken of the gown with the skirt totally spread out to its fullest; there wasn't a room large enough to fully display this remarkable skirted train, the only area large enough was in the car park of their apartment block. The photographer had to be coaxed, the expanse of this gown was beyond her capabilities, she continually insisted on bunching the skirt into a small area for photos so I ushered the girls outside where I spread the billowing skirt fully out over the damp pavers surrounded by the attendants where the photographer begrudgingly took a photo. The girls were worried about the skirt getting dirty.

"Don't worry about it, it's good tempered fabric, it can be put through the washing machine." I flippantly told them.

It was time to leave for the church. The horses and carriages were waiting. Jodie was horrified at the mangy old horses drawing the carriages she thought they may not even be strong enough to get her to the church before they collapsed.

I helped her into the carriage her attendants were pretty much useless, they were a blubbering nervous excited mess. I rushed to the church to be there to help Jodie out of the carriage; well it was the gown I was getting out. As she alighted from the coach I let the gown billow out to its full capacity, it looked like a parachute, others were trying to hold it off the damp ground.

"Let it go. Let it billow" I whispered "it will be okay."

This wedding gown was the most spectacular gown ever seen, even better than Lady Di's (Princess Diana) many people said (the biased ones).

The wedding ceremony and reception was like a fairy tale, lavish elaborate and perfect. Johnny Letts a renowned jockey and friend of the bridal couple was the Master of Ceremony. The cake was so spectacular and an exceptional work of art.

Bill and I enjoyed the reception and felt honored to be invited. I received so many accolades about the gowns. This wedding day was very memorable for me, I was exhausted at the end of it, I felt as if I had been chasing and organising a billowing parachute all day. Jodie needed assistance to move around with the massive skirt hindering her every move, she really needed more attendants who all knew what they were doing, never mind we coped.

That night in bed I felt as if I was still chasing a billowing parachute.  
Jodie thanked me profusely for everything. "If I could do it all over again I wouldn't do a thing different." she told me.

It had all been worth it, and I had been well paid, even though Barbara was prepared to pay much more.

The following week as promised Barbara brought the wedding gown and Margaret brought Sheryl's flower girl frock to the Academy so I could display them. Both frocks were clean, looking like new. Margaret had hand washed Cheryl's with velvet soap. The wedding gown I knew was quite soiled especially the skirt. I asked Barbara if she'd had it dry cleaned?

"No! I put it through the washing machine. You said."

I nearly choked. Yes I had flippantly said it and she literally took it as gospel. I knew it would be okay in the washing machine but I never expected her to do it. It actually came up better than Sheryl's hand washed frock. No harm done.

I was recently talking to Margaret, who also has fond memories of this wedding , she told me Jodie and Sheryl both still have these gowns.

Jody in her amasing gown with attendants. I designed and made them all.

Being a devoted watcher of the Midday Show and loving Jeanie Little, a regular on the show with her outrageous personality, her creativity and zany mannerisms intrigued me and Mike Walsh allowed her fee range of zaniness including a Glad Bag competition where she invited viewers to create an outfit totally out of Glad bags. A prize was offered to the person who could make the best outfit using only Glad bags.

Jeanie made spectacular outfits which she wore on the show showing the versatility of Glad bags. My mind raced. I could see so much potential with the diverse range of plastic Glad bags, so easy to sew because no neatening would be required.

Shane and I modelling Glad Bag outfits.

I needed costumes for a float I was entering in the Norwood Xmas Pageant promoting the Academy. Shane and I would model them to enter in Jeanie's competition. I enjoyed making a male and female sixteenth century outfit to enhance the era of our furniture. I used large Glad orange garden waste bags for the ladies bustled long frocks and men's flared jackets, large black bin bags for the gents tucked in fitted trousers and hat and intricately cut out white Glad bin bags to resemble lace.

The Float and the out fits were a hit in the pageant but ignored by Jeanie.

I would make a wedding frock for the competition no-one could ignore that. I made it on similar lines to the one I made for Jodie. I cut open the largest Glad white plastic bags and glued them together to make large spans of fabric. I made lace from clear Glad plastic bags by opening the bags and snipping and cutting patterns into it. The veil was also made of clear plastic bags opened and glued together, the headpiece and garter made from the outer packages of the Glad bags introduced a bit of color.

I was so pleased with the finished result, it was stunning. Of course I proudly showed this frock to all the students in the Academy.

Some dared say "But you are MAD."

"Why, thank you."

I asked Shane's girlfriend a tiny person to model the gown to photograph for the competition. What a thrill it was to see my Glad Bag wedding frock on national TV.

No, I didn't win the prize, but I still felt a winner.

Wedding frock. veil and posy all made of plastic Glad bags

Bill insisted I get a new car; nothing took my fancy. I was happy with the Jag even though it was getting old and I still had the Gemini mum gave me. The truth was Bill wanted to take over the Jag he missed his Chrysler panel van Mark had written off. Bill felt he needed a prestigious car befitting his position as Bill Hoad of 'Hoad Woodcarving Academy'.

I absolutely agreed. I thought he should have a larger profile, though he preferred to be insignificant. I was sure his presence would promote his business better than me.

I didn't want another car... until I saw the new targa top Datsun 280ZX. I loved the look of the Datsun 240 and 260Z's. Mark had told me I wouldn't like driving them because they didn't have power steering, he was right, they were like a tractor to steer and had no air conditioning but... this new Datsun 280ZX had everything.

It wasn't a family car it was a two door sports but that didn't matter the kids now had their own cars and didn't usually travel with us if they could avoid it. We went for a test drive; it was an absolute dream to drive. I had a choice of red or blue, the family insisted I have the blue one. We traded in the Gemini and bought the blue one. I loved it.

I was driving to the bank only one block from the Academy and I hit a car as it backed out of its parking spot. He didn't look and I didn't see him. My dear ZX just three months old had its front smashed and was un-drivable. The car was so new no spare parts were available; in fact I agreed to accept the previous models bonnet which was slightly different but available. I had to wait five months for other spare parts to be made and delivered before I got my car back looking like new again. I learned from that accident to walk (a very pleasant walk I might add) to the bank.

Suddenly the kids all wanted to travel with Bill and me in the new car, since they had their licenses they chose not to travel in the spacious Jag with us but now they all piled in the cramped rear seat of the two door ZX along with their friends. It was insane; we took the targa tops off to make room for everyone, some stood with their heads out the top, seat belts still weren't mandatory.

It wasn't only the kids who acted stupidly in this car my girlfriends also loved it. One night after a squash celebration, we were well primed, the girls all piled into the car, there were heads sticking out of the roof through the targa tops, the side windows and legs sticking out of the back hatch which was up.

They talked me into driving down Hindley Street in Adelaide's busy west end. The girls were squealing and waving to the noisy responding crowds. What fun we had. It never entered my head we could be breaking the law or I should not be driving under so much influence of alcohol.

My 280ZX towing our float in Norwood Xmas Pageant

I was happy with my new ZX, Bill was happy to take over the Jag, the boys were happy to drive the ZX at every opportunity. If I needed something from the shop like hot cooked potato chips or milk or petrol etc. the boys were always willing to get it for me... on condition they took the ZX. Even though there was a local deli a short walk from home they drove my ZX always via Eagle on the Hill a ten-kilometer trip up into the Adelaide Hills. They told me it kept the cobwebs blown out of the motor. I must admit it seemed to go better after they had taken it for a spin.

I wanted a tow bar on my car; the boys were horrified! The Datsun dealer was aghast.

"You can't put a tow bar on a sports car!"

"Can't I just?"  
I did. I wanted to tow the float in the Norwood Pageants, this car complimented the float.

Bill and the boys, all car enthusiasts, insisted on owning a specific type of car to their taste. We now had a car each. Bill the Jag, me the Datsun ZX, Mark had traded his original Ford V8 station wagon on a second hand "genuine" (he kept telling us) GT Ford, Le-Anne the Ford Laser and Shane a Holden Sandman, he had traded his Holden Torana for this 'shaggin' wagon'. Le-Anne didn't care what she drove but Mark and Shane sure did, they loved their cars.

We ran an account at the local service station opposite the Academy on the Norwood Parade. I noticed the monthly bill was becoming rather exorbitant. I toted up the amount of times cars were fueled up at this service station, more I thought than normal. I questioned the boys; they admitted they had allowed some of their friends to charge fuel to our account because of some lame reason. I put a stop to it and asked the service station to get a car description and signature of the driver. The account each month from then on was more realistic.

Mark guarded his 'genuine' GT with his life, he was so proud of it. No-one, especially me was allowed to touch his car; he went off his rocker at me one day when I dragged the hose across the boot to reach a garden bed. I never did it again. I thought his car was just an old car; it looked the same as Roger's first car, the Ford Falcon he bought in 1966.

Our cats loved to curl up on the bonnet on cold days while the motor was still warm after a run, without fail every time Mark discovered a cat on his car he very gently lifted it off, 'he has a change of attitude to cats' I thought; then suddenly with a huge throw in anger hurled the cat as far away as possible. No admonishing him could alter his stance on our poor cats, luckily they always landed on their feet and were okay.

"I will do it every time a cat gets on my car and if I catch anyone touching this car I will shoot and ask questions later."  
I got the message. I kept away from his car, and I tried to keep the cat off as well.  
I certainly wasn't allowed drive it "It's too powerful for you mum."

"Mum, can you line the back of my Sandman with fur please?" asked Shane "and cover the windows as well please?

I bought the fur fabric and lined his car as per his instructions as well as covering the mattress which completed this lush comfy 'shaggin wagon'. When he was going on a date he'd borrow Le-Anne's Laser to collect his date from her family home then came home and switch cars. He didn't want the girl's parents to know he owned such a vehicle. I thought he was being over cautious. I knew Shane would never do wrong to anyone. ??!!??

One morning very early I was woken up by a phone call from an irate dad.

"Are you Shane Hoad's mum?"

"Yes." I trembled as to was coming next.

"Our fifteen-year-old daughter ran away last night and we found her in the park in your sons car. She spent the night with him."

"Well your daughter is a lucky girl; lucky she was with Shane."

He was not impressed, he insisted we go to their home to 'discuss' things.

So at 3am in the morning I took Shane to this girl's home. She'd had an argument with her parents and went to the park where the local kids hung out, she refused to go home.

"I couldn't just leave her there she was very upset so I let her sleep in my van. I swear nothing happened I felt I had to protect her." Shane explained.

We convinced her parents that all was well and their daughter couldn't possibly be pregnant (their main concern)...well certainly not from this escapade. My parting advice to them was to get their daughter on the pill.

My boys loved driving, when they travelled with me in the Jag or the ZX they wouldn't let me drive.

"Move over mum. I'm driving."  
Inevitably I found myself being driven very slowly down Hindley Street, never mind our destination, it was paramount to go via Hindley Street, up and back Adelaide's infamous Hindley Street. It was a must for the boys to drive down this busy street which took ages to maneuver because it was so busy, they loved being held up in the traffic, more opportunity to 'be seen'.

When Shane at seventeen on P plates was driving me and some mates in the Jag he asked "Mum will you get in the back and duck down so no-one can see you when we go down Hindley Street please?"

I did. It was an interesting ride listening to the interaction of these teenagers and pedestrians. I loved it when my kids were a bit outrageous innocently enjoying themselves. I would have loved to have had the same opportunity when I was a teenager.

My boys were typical lads, they partied, they drank alcohol well before their legal age, at fourteen years old they were working lads and the local hotels accepted their custom without question. The first time Mark was ever asked for ID he was totally taken aback, it was in the Adelaide Hilton and he was twenty-four years old. He was disgusted.

To me partaking of alcohol was a normal process in growing up. We drank every night; Bill drank a lot though never appeared under the influence. Mark and Shane also drank to excess but never made fools or lost control of themselves, it was totally acceptable to me for our family to indulge in alcohol, though I knew my mother would be absolutely disgusted and never approve. Oh well I was too busy to worry over my mum's views.

Le-Anne couldn't care less about cars or drinking alcohol, she was too busy enjoying her hobbies and studying, but she was a party girl. I was also a party girl though very much restricted by Bill's standards but he didn't mind me going out with Le-Anne. I seized the opportunities and we occasionally went to a good movie then on to a nightclub where we danced the night away, these nights were simply fun nights, Le-Anne never drank alcohol and I was very careful to always have my wits about me.

One night at a popular night club in Light Square Le-Anne at sixteen and I were chatting when we were joined by a nice-looking guy obviously interested in Le-Anne. I warned him to stay away from her.

"She's out of bounds."

"So you are Gays?"

I was surely taken by surprise at his assumption but quite flattered he didn't realise I was simply a protective mum.

My squash was improving, I found myself being promoted each season which meant more practice to improve my standard. I played more often than I really had time for, but I was totally addicted to squash the exercise and the social aspect of it. The social life through squash was an absolute bonus. I loved it.

Bill was welcome to join in though he only came to the more formal functions. He accepted me getting home later in the evenings. I became more and more daring. I was reliving my life as a teenager. I was doing stuff that Bill would never have approved of, but I never did anything illegal or stupidly dangerous.

Friday 13th just after midnight; I was up to no good driving the Jag to North Adelaide from squash when a police car with siren screeching pulled me over.

"Shit!" I was always getting pulled over in the Jag (it never happened in our other cars).

"You were speeding!"

"I have just played a long hard match of squash and in a hurry to get home."

Damn this car, it always went too fast, and I was in a hurry to arrive at my destination which wasn't home.

"It's Friday the 13th. Not your lucky day. Hey?" the cop said as he handed me the fine.

I acted very demure and contrite.

Once on my way I heaved a huge sigh of relief.

The cop was wrong, it was my lucky day...

Lucky he didn't put a breathaliser on me!

Whew! I must be more careful!

I was feeling good. I had confidence in myself I felt there was nothing in this world I couldn't achieve. When Le-Anne asked me what I had planned for the future I remember telling her I would become Mayor, establish and run my own business, and write a book. I felt her response of awe. I wasn't bragging I believed I would achieve these rather bold ambitions... if I were fortunate to live long enough.

# Chapter 28

## Ballarat

Hoad Woodcarving was running at full capacity. Word was spreading. Interstate people were coming to Adelaide to learn the art of woodcarving. I recommended accommodation venues if they needed it and arranged classes to suit their requirement. They came and stayed a week or two at a time and did as many classes a week as they had the stamina for. They absolutely loved and appreciated the opportunity to obtain exquisite furniture while enjoying their hobby while holidaying in beautiful Adelaide.

The South Australian Government were promoting South Australia, they awarded Merit Certificates to people who 'Made SA Great'.

I applied for Bill to be a Great South Australian who 'Made SA Great.'  
The application was successful; the committee did indeed agree Bill was a Great South Australian who greatly attributed to making 'SA Great'. This was the first time Bill agreed to personally promote the Academy.

Television crews came to the Academy with an attractive female producer. I secretly gave her permission to do what-ever was needed to coax Bill into being interviewed; he had always flatly refused to be a front man.

The female producer worked her charm; an excellent clip was made and regularly shown on television for many years featuring "Bill Hoad! A Great South Australian making South Australia Great."

I was pleased I had given the attractive producer the okay, I knew if anyone could coax him a pretty female could. I didn't think he would ever agree to be on TV. I was certain the Academy would benefit with Bill actually doing the promotions, after all the Academy was his initiative he should be the one promoting himself and accepting the accolades.

I was right the impact was remarkable, Bill was soon recognised everywhere he went, he handled it surprisingly well. I couldn't believe he accepted the notoriety as well as he did. I was so proud of him, and loved him so much. He had finally dispelled his depressions and decided he wasn't going to die of cancer. Hopefully now we could lead a normal life and plan for a life beyond his fifty years.

Towards the end of 1983 Bill and I drove my ZX to Melbourne, we stopped at Ballarat in Victoria; it was a glorious Sunday morning. We were both in awe of the lovely old buildings and Ballarat in general. We came across a quaint obviously empty two storey building with an ornate shop downstairs and other rooms upstairs in Lydiard St. only a short walk from the CBD We stopped and looked around the vacant building.

"What a shame it's not for sale." Bill said when unexpectedly he stumbled over a sign hidden in the undergrowth.

'For Sale'.

The next-door neighbor told us the premises had been for sale for a long time and gave us the address of the owners who were very surprised when we knocked on their door. We were on a high, the Kensington factory and the Aldinga beach house were freehold our Hectorville home and the Norwood Academy property were minimally mortgaged, we could easily afford to buy this quaint property.

We left Ballarat the unconditional contracted owners of this delightful old building bought at a ridiculously low price, it was my job to execute the purchase and organise the loan. Bill said we should restructure the loan on the Norwood property consolidating the original loan with the price of the Ballarat property "and" he quipped "you may as well get a few thousand extra while you are about it."

The Norwood property was our most valuable property it certainly had the most borrowing potential with only a small loan on it.

"Collateral going to waste" Bill assured me.

Dutifully doing what I was told, without a forward plan for this quaint property it became ours and was freehold to the detriment of a rather large mortgage on the Norwood property. Never mind this was the way we had managed our portfolio thus far with success, apart from the fateful shack!

What do we do with this new property? Start an interstate branch of Hoad Woodcarving Academy, this property would make an ideal Academy. The two downstairs rooms with a shop front would be ideal for the classrooms with a kitchen and bathroom at the rear. Upstairs were three rooms, ideal for living and storage.

We approached the Council to check on the possibility and legality of starting a business here. We were pleasantly surprised with the co-operation we received from Ballarat Council offering incentives and encouragement. So different from Adelaide with so many seemingly unnecessary stumbling blocks put in our way.

The kids were excited when told of our purchase, Mark drove us all to Ballarat in his 'genuine' GT to have a look at the property; they all loved it. Le-Anne especially loved it. We were proud of this lovely property. We thought one of our young aspiring woodcarvers would welcome the opportunity to run our business there, but he declined the offer. What do we do with it?

Le-Anne had completed with honors her TAFE course in Dress Design we all realised this was a hard business to pursue. Bill suggested to Le-Anne she might like to run a Hoad Woodcarving Academy at Ballarat. She jumped at the opportunity, she loved the Ballarat property and she would be independent, and away from me always nagging about tidiness, which I must admit I did.

Bill continually chastised me about nagging the kids too much.

"You are making their life hell. Get off their backs. So what if there is a bit of mess lying around, it doesn't matter."

"Oh yes it does to me. I am not prepared to live in a pigsty."

I still got upset when arriving home after the cleaner had left the place a show piece to find the family already home and it looking liking like a bomb had hit it. All I asked was they put their rubbish in the bin, dishes in the dishwasher, and clothes in the wash basket. No, they just strew stuff around. Bill aided and abetted them making me out to be the villain. I did indeed feel like I was.

"Why couldn't I be more tolerant?"

I think Le-Anne gratefully accepted the responsibility of Ballarat to escape me. I couldn't blame her I felt as if I was a bitch, certainly the confidential chats I overheard Bill and Le-Anne having confirmed I was.

Le-Anne had never done any wood carving but we knew she was clever, artistic and a quick learner. Bill assured her he would be by her side for support making sure she was comfortable with her new responsibilities.

The Ballarat Academy would start operating in March the following year, in conjunction with the popular annual Begonia Festival. We would partake in this festival, have a stall where we could demonstrate woodcarving and introduce ourselves and hopefully take enrolments.

Much work had to be done before then. Custom made apparatus and equipment, teaching aids and kits had to be made, then preparing the premises as classrooms and living areas for Le-Anne as well as promotions for The Academy. The most important thing I felt was teaching Le-Anne the art of woodcarving so she could adequately instruct. Our other teachers had been learning for years before they were invited to instruct, Le-Anne had only three months in which to learn before she actually started teaching. Bill assured me she would be fine "she only has to be one step ahead of the students, and I'll be there to help. I'll give her a crash course at Aldinga during the holidays."

These summer holidays were busy for Bill and Le-Anne. Bill was impressed with Le-Anne's aptitude to carving. I knew she was capable of anything she put her mind to, though I was a bit worried about so much responsibility being heaped on her at such a young age.

I had over the past few years tried to get Le-Anne to slow down, she had so many responsibilities studies and hobbies I was worried about her 'burning out' though moving to Ballarat meant she would be giving up all her hobbies and commitments in Adelaide. This would be a whole new life for her.

I worried how she would cope with this huge change to her life, never mind Bill would spend time in Ballarat supporting her. I hoped he was able to cope with this responsibility I was dubious about his sustainability and capabilities but I knew he would do his best for his daughter, probably the only person he would put himself out for. I was happy and thought it would be great for both Bill and Le-Anne.

We all went to Ballarat to set up the new Academy, and settle Le-Anne into her new home, she was excited. It was early March 1984. Le-Anne was still seventeen.

"Mum! Don't you dare tell anyone how old I am."

She knew it would be hard for adults to accept tuition from a seventeen year old. She never lied but she avoided telling anyone her age. They perceived her to be twenty three.

The display at the Begonia Festival was great publicity. Le-Anne and Bill explained the concept and demonstrated woodcarving as we did at the Royal Shows, exhibitions and art fairs in Adelaide, it worked, enough students enrolled to get started, then word of mouth, our best advertising tool took over.

Le-Anne soon became a competent instructor gaining the respect and admiration of her students allowing Bill freedom to design quietly in the background. The students appreciated the furniture they were able to produce. Mark supplied the kits from his factory at Kensington, sometimes sending them by train and sometimes taking a load over in my ZX towing the trailer (see! I knew a tow bar was necessary on my ZX); it was amasing how many kits we could fit in the open space of that car when the seats were laid down.

The completed carved work was brought back to Adelaide for assembling in our factory. Mark didn't mind driving to Ballarat when necessary. Bill also transported kits as he travelled between Adelaide and Ballarat in the Jag, leaving Le-Anne alone for longer periods each time, though he spent more time in Ballarat than in Adelaide.

I worried about Le-Anne living alone, although she was a capable and confident person she was still very young and inexperienced in life challenges. I worried about her ability to look after a home, cooking meals as well as teaching and the responsibility of so many students. She confidently told me she'd be okay, but I still worried knowing how she took everything in her stride without fear or caution and she was a blonde, a natural blonde, in every way... but charmingly so. Her brothers never let her forget she was a blonde.

I particularly worried about her cooking; she had never cooked at home she wasn't there long enough. I worried about her eating properly and the safety aspect of her cooking; she tended to put something on the stove... and forget about it. Luckily her stove was set in an old brick fireplace with a chimney above because as I suspected she forgot she was cooking and many saucepans were ruined and occasionally caught on fire burning the only flammable substance around the stove a dried arrangement she attached to the wall above the fireplace. Luckily the fireplace and surrounding walls were solid brick so her cooking fires were contained within the fireplace.

The bedrooms were upstairs, the only exit was the staircase in the centre of the building leading down to the Academy. Bill always aware of safety set up a 'fire escape' from the bedroom and drilled Le-Anne with the procedure for escape should it be necessary. He had securely attached a chain long enough to reach the ground to the wall behind the curtains, he told her to always leave this particularly solid chair by that curtain to smash the window then throw the chain out and climb down it. I thought this was all a bit too much, but I also thought it ingenious and hoped she would never have to use it. She didn't.

Le-Anne at 18 with furniture her students carved

Ballarat property as we bought it

Our 3 kids hanging out the 'fire escape' window

I was so busy now with our two academies and the factory I felt I wasn't doing justice to my council responsibilities. I had tried to resign a few times but the Town Clerk wouldn't accept it, he insisted what-ever effort and time I gave to the council would be as productive as could be expected of anyone else. It proved much harder to resign from my position as councillor than it was to win the original election; members of council wouldn't let me resign. I was asked if I would become an Alderman or Mayor. No!

The time came when because of our expanding businesses I regretfully handed in a formal resignation, with no negotiations. No discussions to be entered into. Steve my co-councillor was totally capable of looking after Hectorville ward. I had served my terms with dedication and integrity.  
There went one from my future career list... Mayor!

Managing the Adelaide branch of the Academy and keeping kits up to approximately three hundred students each week was my biggest problem, they each wanted a specific kit. I was able to go to the factory and line up the templates and ask the apprentices to cut them as per the students request, it was imperative I do this to in order to keep the students happy. No kits.- no students - no Academy.

Le-Anne wasn't privy to this luxury, her orders were fulfilled at the whim of the workers in the factory. I shuddered at the thought of the pressure her students would put her under waiting for their ordered kits to arrive. Bill assured me all was going well. I left it to him, though I knew he wasn't a good manager, but if anyone could coax and 'manage' him it would be his daughter. I was flat out with the Norwood Academy.

Bill was ecstatic with the success of the Ballarat Academy, but it was not making any money, it's income wasn't enough to even cover the running cost of the business let alone contributing to its loan. I was the one who paid the bills and tried to balance the budget. The Ballarat Academy was putting a strain on our finances, we were going backwards and fast; something had to be done.

We all had a cheque book and all drew from the one account. It had worked well over the years, carefully monitored by me, but the extra business was too large a drain with no revenue forthcoming.

The communal cheque account operated with a manageable overdraft but now each month the overdraft was getting bigger. Ballarat needed more students.

We approached schools in Geelong and Bendigo with woodwork classrooms, they were delighted for us to use their facilities on days they were vacant. Le-Anne loaded her Laser with all the teaching aids required and travelled to Geelong and Bendigo one day each a week and conducted a twilight and evening class. This was an enormous load on her, especially as she didn't like driving, and I wasn't comfortable her driving alone at nights.

I was worried as Bill wasn't always there, we expected way too much from her. Bill assured me she was going okay. I was too busy in Adelaide to spend time worrying over something Bill assured me was all okay.

It was a huge life change for Le-Anne in Ballarat, apart from the responsibility of the Academy she had to make new friends, she was a popular girl and though made friends easy it would have been a challenging time for her. She needed interests other than the Academy, the local theatre group was ideal, she enjoyed the camaraderie and working on the shows they produced.

The Principals of the ballet school Le-Anne had attended for many years in Adelaide were sorry to lose her and wanted her to teach their special style ballet in Ballarat, she declined instead she enrolled in singing lessons with Bob Lemke who along with his two sons were excellent baritone opera stars.

After only six months of tuition from Bob, I could not believe the deep rich perfect voice that effortlessly came from out of Le-Anne's mouth. Bob was surely a magician. I figured he understood the deeper voice range and developed Le-Anne's natural lower range to a remarkable standard, her voice and confidence gave me goose bumps. She competed in the Ballarat Eisteddfods. I enjoyed attending these Eisteddfods. Le-Anne and all Bob's students did very well.

Le-Anne effortlessly settled into her new lifestyle making friends as she became involved in the community. Michael a family friend from Adelaide had moved to Melbourne, they became kindred spirits relying on each other for support and friendship. Michael a hairdresser had confided in Le-Anne he was gay, intrepidly Le-Anne told me. I had long suspected this to be the case and was so relieved Michael had finally 'come out'. I think he was relieved to have an adult that accepted him for who he was, his parents didn't and this caused him much pain, he loved his parents and for seventeen years tried to be the son they expected him to be, until he finally succumbed to his true feelings and left home and moved interstate to lead his destined lifestyle in anonymity.

Michael wasn't happy being estranged from his family he was very lonely in Melbourne, so it was fortunate Le-Anne moved to Ballarat. They were great company for each other spending occasional weekends together, either Michael would travel to Ballarat, or Le-Anne would go to Melbourne and do the 'city thing'.

I loved Michael he was a bright, alert, arty, witty guy and was accepted into our family fold, though Bill and the boys didn't know he was gay. One day Michael rang me at the Academy from Melbourne. I recognised his voice. I wondered whatever he wanted. STD phone calls were expensive and I knew Michael wasn't flushed with spare cash.

"Hoad Woodcarving Academy! Eunice speaking."

"How do you keep four poofters happy?"

"I don't know!"

"You turn a chair upside down."

The phone went dead. He had hung up. This call had a profound effect on me. I thought it was so clever how he did it at a minimum cost no pre-amble or chit chat. I was honored that he trusted me enough to even bother ringing me with such dribble. It was such a shame his parents didn't allow or encourage the same rapport as I enjoyed with Michael.

Michael looked after my hair at home when he visited Adelaide. One day he knocked on my door and said "Mrs. Hoad, you must need a haircut and treatment, I need the money."

"Okay Michael, come in and let's do it."

He created me some amasing hairstyles and cuts, the latest styles from top Melbourne salons. It was a win - win situation. _Sadly a few years after Le-Anne moved back to Adelaide, Michael was found dead in his flat in Melbourne. He was an asthmatic, his nebuliser was found empty in his flat. He died a very sad lad never having reconciled with his parents._

Mark, Shane and I were left to totally run the Adelaide businesses. Bill was away in Ballarat for weeks at a time. I asked Mark how he was coping in the factory without his father. "Good." he assured me "We like it when he's in Ballarat."

Shane and I liked it as well, we efficiently run the Academy between us. The students didn't miss Bill because they hardly saw him anyway.

We were all very happy; all was running smoothly without the master. I especially liked it; I felt free as a bird, no tension for fear I would do or say the wrong thing and upset him and ultimately cop the consequences. Our Adelaide businesses flourished; we made a good profit. Just as well, we had to cover the Ballarat loses which still increased each month.

The biggest headache was the overdraft, it was getting bigger by the month, it became a juggling nightmare to even pay the exorbitant 18% interest each month let alone pay any off the principle. Each month we were going backward. I was forced to budget to attempt to keep the overdraft within our limit of cash flow.

Our accountant warned me something had to be done. He went through our accounts it was obvious Ballarat was the drain on the finances. The accountant questioned me over the amount I claimed for Public Relations from Parade Cellars.

"Who are Parade Cellars?"  
Bill bought our alcohol from there on credit card. I had always claimed their invoices as entertainment and P/R. for taxation purposes. (Public relations and entertainment were tax exempt in those days).

"It is an extraordinarily large amount. You can't possibly claim all that. Who drinks it?"  
I hadn't realised our alcohol consumption had increased so much. Bill regularly brought home a carton of drinks, ports, whiskies and a flagon of hock from Parade Cellars, proudly presenting me with the flagon of hock "This is for you."  
I enjoyed hock, it wasn't expensive, a flagon lasted me a few days, I didn't feel I was overspending on alcohol, but Bill's favored drinks were Club Port and Johnny Walker Whisky, expensive which he drank freely. Bill was outraged that the accountant dared question this account. I was alarmed it was so much. Bill drank top shelf grog as if it were water, even so I never saw him stupidly drunk. I think it gave him courage. 'Dutch Courage' my mum called it.

Bill must have realised how much he was spending on alcohol because he changed to flagons of port, (buying only an occasional bottle of Club Port) and the cheapest brand of whisky. He alternated tumblers of port and whisky or swigged straight out of the flagon as he absentmindedly designed, (drawing over and over the same lines) until he was happy with the drawings, seeing him drinking like this during the day so amused the kid's friends, to us it was normal.

When Bill returned from Ballarat lovemaking was always first priority, well, really it was just sex. I had discovered what lovemaking and complete sexual satisfaction was all about and it wasn't what I shared with Bill, never mind we loved each other and I knew my sexual satisfaction could be completed by a visit to the spa, necessary for my sanity. The boys rarely joined us for dinner leaving Bill and I to dine alone which I enjoyed; these intimate dinners gave us a chance to chat.

As the weeks went by I realised apart from our businesses we really had nothing in common we were acting out a farce. Bill was obviously making a life for himself in Ballarat and relishing in being 'Bill Hoad Making South Australia Great' which I was happy about. I was also content with my lot in life.

Our intimate dinners for two gave me a chance to explain our finances and how we were going backward quickly; fueled by alcohol loosening our tongues especially mine I dared broach the subject of the Ballarat Academy running at a loss which brough up the shackles in Bill, he became defensive and threatening, he refused to believe anything negative about the Ballarat Academy. He insisted it was a happy place with no pressure without me there.

I knew Bill and Le-Anne would both be content in their 'arty world' happily coasting, with not a worry about practicalities; it was me who had the worry of running at a loss with each month the loss getting bigger.

The Adelaide Academy and factory though profitable couldn't sustain the losses of Ballarat let alone the large loan mortgage payments of Ballarat and the extra cash Bill insisted on, attached to the Norwood property. Bill simply would not accept Ballarat was anything other than successful which the classes were, except it was costing way over and above any income from it.

I was so concerned and at opportune times tried to sensibly discuss with him Ballarat's economy, but he defiantly rebelled, fiercely defending its profitability and blaming me for getting the books wrong.

I had to be careful not to upset him. I didn't want a bashing. He was in absolute denial of the true facts; it was like he wasn't 'with it' he seemed as if he was living on another planet and was invincible.

He was 'The Great Bill Hoad making South Australia Great'. I couldn't believe the change in him. I loved his confidence but he wouldn't accept the reality of Ballarat's financial losses. I couldn't comprehend where we were heading, I felt he was trying to become 'greater' by putting me down. He dictated unreasonable tasks for me to implement which I knew were impossible pipe dreams and when I didn't jump to his demands I was abused and blamed for "holding the business back."

One such demand was a very expensive machine he and Mark wanted to buy. I agreed to go to the bank with them; the manager in no uncertain terms explained our financial situation and questioned whether the machine would benefit the business financially enough to justify another loan. The answer was an obvious 'no'. The manager saved me from that decision but there were many other decisions Bill demanded I execute that I could see were fruitless and didn't act on.

I knew Bill wasn't capable of making his schemes a reality, his demands wouldn't happen unless I executed them. I was battling to keep up with everyday proceedings without chasing pie in the sky dreams taking us deeper into debt. Mind you I would have found time to execute constructive ideas but nothing was constructive from Bill these days.

I was battling to cope with Bill's unreasonable illusioned attitude. I had to be discrete I daren't deny or defy him, he was the boss of our dynasty of which I without reservation had given him all the credit whilst boosting his ego.

He was sure he was the greatest, he saw it on the TV every day and on banners around the streets 'Bill Hoad Making SA Great'.

I was at a loss as to how Bill had become so irrational; maybe the antidepressant drugs and alcohol had affected his brain? Something sure had. I had no idea where we were heading. What do I do? There was nothing I could do but keep the business running as best I could. I guess I stuck my head in the sand and plodded on! I didn't have a choice!

While Bill was in Ballarat our Adelaide businesses cruised along without a hitch, as soon as he arrived home there was tension, we were all on tender hooks intent not to upset him. I desperately wanted our happy family unit back. I instigated dining out as a family but without Le-Anne it wasn't the same.

A few drinks and a nice meal as usual relaxed us enough to say what we really thought. Bill would not listen to anything negative about Ballarat, every time it was mentioned running at a loss he accused me of not doing the book work properly and ordered me to fix it. The boys were tiring of hearing these arguments, they avoided us, our family meals together ceased they preferred take-a-ways. I couldn't blame them.

The more I tried to discuss our economic state the more Bill retreated from me, in fact it was becoming a huge barrier between us, he was convinced the state of our affairs was my fault and vehemently accused me to the extent of becoming violent. I feared for my safely. I was in despair as to what I could do.

We were all relieved when Bill returned to Ballarat.

Not one to sit and mope I kept myself busy with my head in the sand I guess. Although I was happy and felt 'free' when Bill was in Ballarat, I was alone. The kids were off doing their own individual thing. The nights were long and lonely, as were the weekends. I had time on my hands; I was continually 'horny'.

I seldom saw the tradie much to his disappointment though I was still doing business with James and occasionally 'lunching' he was simply a great friend, our trysts never interfering with our business dealings. Neither of us were emotionally attached we certainly didn't want to hurt our partners or our marriages to break down. Our trysts were purely for physical satisfaction, and how satisfying it was, well for me, I assume it was the same for James. I couldn't believe the difference in my body, mind and soul since being enlightened to the joys of total sexual satisfaction. I felt rejuvenated electric and alive after complete and deep fulfilling orgasms...

I was addicted. I wanted more orgasms. I felt nymphomaniac, especially at home alone. I needed to be sexually satisfied. Surely such mutual pleasure can't be so sinful though be it illicit, especially if no-one other than the participants knows of the trysts.

My spasmodic trysts with a married man left me 'wanting' I longed for company in the evenings, I longed to be wined and dined, something I was never able to do with the tradie or James. I was alone for weeks at a time, daytimes were fine I was busy, it was the nights I yearned for 'a life'.

How can I meet someone suitable who wants the same as me? There must be heaps of decent married men out there who are lonely and yearning for the occasional company of a lady such as me who simply wants mutual friendship with no strings attached.

I knew I must keep my yearnings to myself, no way could I ever reveal my feelings to any of our friends, and no way would I ever allow myself to be intimate with any of our friends, my trysts had to be with guys from a completely different social set to ours. I had to keep my deceitful life completely separate from my family and our social life. Nare the twain shall meet.

I was so lonely I looked in the 'personal' column of the Advertiser the local newspaper, the only mode available to meet new friends, it was considered desperate and degrading to stoop so low as to use such a medium: well I was desperate so I secretly studied the ads. (no internet in these days).

I only wanted to associate with married men, so there would be no strings attached or demands as there could be from single guys. I deciphered which ads I thought were genuine and dared write. I felt comfortable with giving my contact address as a post box number obtainable at the Advertiser.

I don't really know what exactly I was looking for but this exercise kept me amused and something to occupy me in the evenings. I must have had good deciphering powers, the men I cautiously met always anonymously and always in a safe populated area mainly coffee shops or nice hotel lounges were businessmen and as cautious as I s about embarking on this daring venture. I carefully scrutinized these men and was surprised to find they were looking for the same companionship as I was.

I gathered myself a set of very select new friends totally devoid of anyone we knew, whom I absolutely trusted and respected as they did me. These guys all successful business men filled a huge void in my life. I learned a lot from these special friends, business wise and life skills wise. My relationship with each of them fulfilled me in different ways. None was as skilled at sex as was James who I was seeing less of because of personal traits that turned me off but I treasured their business advice and moral support.

I treasured the relationships I shared with these carefully selected guys, each one offered me support and valuable expertise in different aspects of business. It was invaluable to me.

I was a little deceitful with these friends, they knew I was happily married, but they never knew they weren't the only extra marital man in my life, they each thought they were my one and only confidante. I never lied to them, they just assumed. I knew there was safety in numbers, I didn't want to depend on just one person.

As cautious as I was a secret meeting at one of my friend's business premises one night could have blown my secret. As we were in the midst of enjoying ourselves we heard the deafening sound of glass shattering nearby; could have been the next-door shop, could have been the one we were in? He immediately jumped into escape mode.

"That was a window smashed. Where is your car parked?"

"Out the back."

"Quick, I'll let you out the back door, get in your car as quickly as possible and GO."  
I did. Fortunately no-one saw me and I never heard any more.  
Whew! You just never know.

Once again I couldn't tell anyone what I was secretly doing, I knew I had to do it alone and bear the burden alone. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I needed this exciting challenge in my life. I was addicted and I wasn't hurting anyone so damn it why shouldn't I enjoy myself. I was living and working in a man's world, so I felt justified in partaking of men's privileges.

I felt privileged to be associating with these successful business men who as well as mutual companionship gave me constructive professional advice assuring me I wasn't a failure (Bill's accusations had me believing I was), they freely offered support and constructive advice when-ever I asked. I so treasured the business acumen and assurance these special friends offered because I am sure I would have broken under the pressure Bill relentlessly applied.

How would I feel when Bill came home from Ballarat now? I don't know whether I felt horny or guilty, I think it was a mixture of both. I was so stimulated from my illicit escapades I wanted more and more sex from Bill and of course when he arrived home he expected to hop straight into bed and relieve himself, a ritual he expected as his rights which I was happy about and hopefully if I was quick would achieve the ultimate orgasm.

Bills attitude to me now was more superior and estranged; he was 'The Great Bill Hoad! Making South Australia Great!' I didn't care, I was happy he thought he was the superior one, let him prove it to himself. I demurely went along with his unfamiliar attitude, all the while gaining confidence with knowledge and support from my business friends and dare I say it becoming even more sexually aware. I didn't understand these wanton feelings overtaking me, but I just had to be sexually satisfied and there was not just one man who could do it.

I wondered if my nymphomania was due to my strict stance on abstinence before marriage?  
Or missing out on the eternal orgasm for so many years after marriage?  
Or the freedom of not being able to fall pregnant?

# Chapter 29

## Bliss and Blob

I saw an Ad in the Advertiser for a special Mediterranean cruise on the Oriana the cruise ship of the day, with the cast of the popular television soapy 'A Country Practice' who were filming a series on the ship. Ann Wills an Adelaide television celebrity was our hostess. This was an opportunity I just couldn't let pass; Bill agreed.

I thought this may be just what we needed to renew our relationship and marriage; it was sailing from Sydney in early June. Le-Anne had only been teaching at the Ballarat Academy a few months; would she feel confident enough for us to leave her to her own devices? She and Bill both said "Yes, it's only for ten days."

I excitedly booked the cruise.

We drove to Sydney via Ballarat to make sure Le-Anne was okay before we set sail. Shane looked after the Adelaide Academy and Mark the factory. What a wonderful reward for us to be able to have this lovely holiday knowing our kids were well qualified and willing to take on responsibilities with confidence, a fitting reward for all our hard work. We had never holidayed alone together since Shane was born, we felt we earned this holiday... well I certainly did.

I felt this holiday would be an opportunity to spend quality time with each other, I was sure it was what we needed at this time in our marriage. It would be a time for us to reflect and get to know each other again in a relaxed atmosphere away from all our commitments. It would certainly be a new experience to holiday alone with Bill. I was so looking forward to it.

We left Ballarat confident Le-Anne would be okay for a couple of weeks, it was a two day drive to Sydney, we planned to stay at a motel at Wagga Wagga the first night, drive into Sydney, leave my ZX at a service station for a service and taxi to the ship by 6pm, ready to sail at 7pm. We enjoyed a relaxed evening at Wagga Wagga over dinner and a bottle of wine and were refreshed and ready for the drive to Sydney next morning.

I had estimated how long it would take to arrive at the ship. I hadn't allowed a lot of time to spare, I didn't like waiting around. As we got nearer Sydney the peak hour traffic was like we'd never seen. Bill was in highway speed mode, next thing the line of traffic in front of us suddenly stopped; our car rammed the rear of the car in front of us pushing that car into the car in front; then BANG a car ran into the back of us; bang another car ran into the back of that. We braced ourselves for more bangs. Thankfully that was it.

Mayhem followed this five-car chain collision which we had started: accusations, traffic buildup, police, questioning, breathalisers, panic that the ship may sail without us. We were very stressed and concerned. Bill was relieved when his breathaliser reading was negative. He often wondered if his system was ever free of alcohol, luckily the previous day he had only consumed half a bottle of wine at dinner.

Everyone was very helpful; the tow truck took us and my concertinaed car directly to the nearest crash repairers who assured us they would do their best to have it ready for when we returned from the cruise. Then we needed to get to the ships wharf an hour drive away, we were due there in thirty minutes. The taxi driver responded to the challenge, we made it... just in time.

Our dream holiday had finally started. The car was a wreck but we were both unhurt. We settled into our cabin a basic standard room with double bunks and bathroom down the corridor, I was pleased we didn't have a bathroom in our cabin the smell would have made me sick.

We were happy as we sailed into the sunset and I was so excited. There were so many formal and informal activities on this cruise it was hard to choose which we preferred to partake of. Each night the following day's itinerary was placed in our cabin, we each planned what we would do, each agreeing to do what we enjoyed, which meant we did very little together, but we met at mealtimes.

Maggie Dence, me. Stewart Wagstaff on the set of A country Practice

Bill and I on our cruise.

Bill enjoyed all the art classes. He was a favorite with the teachers and other participants. I enjoyed the exercise activities and lying in the sun by the pool watching the filming of 'A Country Practice.' I wished desperately Le-Anne could have been in my place she would have been in her element as an extra on the set of 'A Country Practice', they were calling for volunteers. I didn't volunteer I needed to totally relax consequently I enjoyed watching incognito.

Ann Wills was a disappointment as our hostess, we saw very little of her, she only appeared for her designated official duties. She, her mother, and sister had The Suite on the top deck and professed to be suffering sea sickness. Her mother bathing in Ann's notoriety gushed around those she thought worthy of her presence. I said something (I can't remember what) to exclude me from her worthiness. Good, I can't be bothered with snobs.

The cast of 'A Country Practice' were lovely people mixing freely with the passengers; I spent a lot of time chatting with them. Cookie was always at the bar ready to share a drink and a chat, Stuart Wagstaff was his charming self as usual, and Maggie Dence was so sweet, totally different from her TV character, they were all friendly and charming. I wasn't a regular watcher of 'A Country Practice' so didn't have a close connection with the cast members, it was shown at 7pm. when mothers are doing dinner, but I certainly enjoyed mingling with the cast on the cruise.

Bill was happy, he seemed to be enjoying himself. I was pleased because something usually didn't suit him when he was away from home and it was my responsibility to put it right. This was proving to be a perfect holiday. Bill maintained he possessed psychic powers; had said to me at the beginning of the cruise "This holiday will make or break us."

I thought it a strange thing to say. I dismissed the thought. We were having a great holiday it would surely cement and strengthen our marriage which is what I expected and certainly working towards.

The fancy dress night had me unprepared. We hadn't brought anything to wear in the form of a fancy dress. The crew made suggestions how we could use 'stuff' on board, like sheets towels etc. I imagined there to be many ghosts and bathing beauties because everyone would have had poolside gear and everyone had access to sheets. I wanted to be different As I was basking by the pool it came to me, I would wear my lavish lurex gold frock and make a hat and handbag of Benson and Hedges cigarette packets which were all gold. I raided the bars, the rubbish bins, hounded B and H cigarette smokers to save me their empty packets. I went as 'All Gold' the Golden Bensons and Hedges Lady. Stuart Wagstaff had promoted Benson and Hedges cigarettes for many years; he sought me out and congratulated me on my ingenuity.

"I don't even smoke anymore." he wickedly confided to me.

"I don't either, I also gave up smoking."

"Good on you" he said as he pushed me to the front "Go on, get out there, you will win a prize."

I wasn't so sure. The judges weren't Australian and may not have recognised the significance. They did. I won a prize along with much applause especially from Bill and Stuart.

We enjoyed visiting Noumea, Fiji and Villa, we had never been out of Australia in fact we hadn't seen much of Australia. The small pristine islands dotted in the expanse of ocean were a wonderment to us, the weather was perfect, the coral spectacular. What a wonderful holiday especially with no responsibilities. We enjoyed the meals, so much choice. We had never seen so much food, a continual feast it seemed. This was such a dream holiday.

Bill was concerned when one of his testicles became swollen and very painful; it was getting sorer and more swollen each day. Finally he went to the ship's doctor who said it was very serious but nothing could be done about it on the ship; he insisted Bill see his doctor immediately we get home.

Bill was not only suffering much pain and discomfort he was very worried. I was also concerned but I wasn't going to worry until I knew what we were actually dealing with and then deal with it. We had to get home first; hopefully our car would be repaired and ready to go.

Arriving back in Sydney we knew not what to expect. We had to get through customs. We had bought many animal, shell, and wooden artifacts in Fiji. The Fijians thanked us profusely for "helping our people". When customs took all these goods we realised why we were thanked with so much gusto. We had no idea we weren't able to bring such items into Australia. A large turtle shell, other shells and wooden carvings were all confiscated. Bill was concerned about an expensive glass topped coffee table with a look-a-like exquisitely hand carved elephant tusk proudly displayed under the glass, which we now hoped was plastic and not ivory. Bill wanted the carving not the tusk. We were relieved to be allowed to keep this beautiful table with the exquisite carvings.

Was our car ready? No it wasn't and "wouldn't be for a 'week or two'.  
"We had to get home, and quick... to see the doctor. Bill was in a lot of pain; we now knew something was seriously wrong. I was able to get flights the next day, so we booked into a hotel for the night and flew home the following day, jetlagged and totally exhausted.

Doctor immediately referred Bill to a specialist who diagnosed it as cancer of the testicle which had to be removed immediately... like tomorrow. Doctor assured us if you had to get cancer this was probably the best to have because the cancer was external to the body and easily removed, he also assured Bill he would still have one testicle ensuing his sexual abilities wouldn't change.

Bill insisted on a private ward which he had. I was very worried for him; I was sure this would cause his depression to return and set him right back to believing he was dying.

The specialist assured us the operation was successful, though all the malignant cancer was removed radiotherapy was recommended to kill any cells that may be left behind.

Bill endured Radiotherapy, twice a week at Royal Adelaide Hospital for many weeks, after a few treatments he was able to drive himself to the hospital and park in the grounds in the designated area for patients receiving treatments, a huge bonus, normally car parking at the hospital meant a long walk from timed parking meters.

Bill endured this treatment without complaint accepting his fate philosophically for which I was so surprised and thankful. A few months later he was eventually given a clean bill of health, he was free from cancer. The operation and radiotherapy had taken a toll on him, it took quite a while for him to recover.

I was relieved he didn't go into the deep depression he suffered after his melanoma scare, in fact his reaction was quite the opposite, he became even more assertive and dictatorial toward me, he seem to come alive, he was self-confident, he was of the opinion he had survived two cancers, he was invincible, he had established a successful business, he was Bill Hoad who made S.A. Great, the television promotions regularly reminded us.

I loved this new Bill and was happy to follow his lead, hopefully now he would realise the financial predicament we were in and make some constructive decisions.

Wrong! It was my misunderstanding of Ballarat and bad financial management that got the blame. He demanded I mend my errors. He wouldn't accept the evidence I put in from of him of Ballarat's income and expenses.

"You don't understand. Put it right!"

In the meantime poor Le-Anne had been struggling along on her own for four months at the Ballarat Academy, struggling to keep her knowledge abreast and ahead of her students. The Geelong and Bendigo classes required a huge effort, just the travel was a major responsibility for her along the highways to Bendigo and Geelong each week. She had realised it wasn't worth travelling to Bendigo so she ceased those classes but continued driving to Geelong for classes. I was so concerned for her though Bill wasn't, it seemed he wasn't accepting reality.

One day on her way to Geelong she saw an elderly man approaching the highway from a side road, she expected him to stop but he didn't, too late! CRASH! Luckily no-one was hurt but her Laser was a write off. She couldn't do without a car so we took the Holden Kingswood (Mission Bus) to Ballarat for her to use.

Le-Anne lost confidence in driving especially along the highways at night. We stopped the Geelong classes, allowing her to totally concentrate on her Ballarat classes which she had to manage with very little support from Bill. I shudder at the pressure she would have been under, but in usual Le-Anne style she took it all in her stride.

Without the extra classes the Ballarat Academy became more in arrears each month. Bill insisted we had to give it time to build up. I couldn't see how this could possibly happen Le-Anne was running as many classes as she was comfortable with. I didn't know how long we could sustain this loss each month. Each time I tried to explain the severity of this loss to Bill I copped the usual accusations of not understanding how Ballarat operated. Tension was mounting. I didn't know how I could convince him it was impossible for me to balance the budget when we had no cash flow. The extended overdraft was over drafted, we were going backwards each month.

The Bank Manager had extended the extension, he knew we had collateral, though not secured with the bank. He was not happy. This was the era Paul Keating was leading Australia into the "recession we had to have".

Without me reminding Bill of our financial situation he was blissfully happy living in his disillusioned space; he had lived in a trance for years maybe the antidepressants which he still took plus additional 'boosters' affected him; his mind was always seemingly in the clouds.

I was relieved when after his second cancer he didn't revert to total depression so accepted the many prescription drugs he took and the alcohol he consumed.

As the doctor had assured Bill, losing one testicle would make no difference to his sexual activities; it didn't, except probably because of the radiotherapy he took longer to ejaculate which was great for me. I after twenty-two years of marriage was now sometimes able to reach an orgasm before he did, especially when stimulated from my extra marital stimulations. Bill was concerned it took him longer to orgasm.

"I like it that you take longer."

"Enjoy it while you can" he begrudgingly told me.

I thought it a strange statement, but yes I would enjoy his sustained ejaculation. Our sex life was great, well mine was, I couldn't get enough love making, or more to the point I couldn't get enough SEX. I had been awakened. I was enjoying my addiction to orgasms.

During Bill's depressions he found solace in art, creative art. He absolutely engrossed himself in unusual art projects. When he had his first cancer scare he spent months designing an armchair out of clay, though a masterpiece of tedious workmanship it was most impractical and his plans to mass produce this chair in resin from a template never eventuated it was gathering dust in storage. Another fad was welding, Roger had given him a crash course many years previous, he spent hours welding many elaborate decorative masterpieces used to display our signage. It pleased me that he was happy while producing these unique works of art, he always asked my opinion, I rarely had any criticism and if I did suggest this or that he took it on board.

Bill was sure his wood carved works of art could be mass produced from his originals designs, he was happy to spend as much time as necessary to create one intricate and special piece. The clay chair episode which occupied him for almost a year taught him to be more realistic, the large mantle mirror engulfed him for nearly as long but was a modicum of success though I was pleased he only produced twenty five of them; certainly the gilded one in the office/showroom and the cedar look-a-like at home in our formal lounge and the bone ivory with gold dust enhancing the carving in our bedroom complimented their settings perfectly.

The project Bill chose to embark and become totally engrossed in after his testicle cancer scare horrified me; he decided to re paint our beautiful enameled finish midnight blue Jag. It didn't need a paint job. Why couldn't he paint something that really needed painting, like the house?

"What color?" I asked

"Black!"

"Why do you want to paint it?"

"It's looking dull."

"It's an old car and a polish is all that's needed to restore its beautiful sheen."  
I often cut and polished this car until it looked like new; I enjoyed the results.

To my silent disgust and horror Bill started sanding the Jag; weeks of endless sanding by hand with fine sandpaper rendered the car a very sad look. I was even more horrified when he started painting it, bit by bit alternating a coat of paint with an extensive rubbing with wet and dry sandpaper. He worked tirelessly on this project for hours and hours spraying on many coats of paint, then wet and dry rubbing with fine sandpaper between each coat. I knew he was doing this as therapy and I was pleased he was happy being occupied while doing it, but what horrified me was not only what he was painting...but what he was painting it with... black enamel pressure pack spray cans from Woolworths, their 'home brand'.|

Woolworths home brand enamel paint. Many cans of it.

I was sure now Bill had really lost it (his mind), the drugs and alcohol must have had an effect. I daren't say anything, he was happy, and I was grateful he wasn't suffering depression like after his melanoma cancer. He didn't talk of dying so much either, a huge relief for me. He still believed he would die in his fifties justifying his attitude that he could do whatever he liked because he had a shorter lifespan than most and was entitled to do what-ever he pleased, but to ruin a perfectly good paint job on a prestigious car didn't make sense. I had no choice but to accept this radical behaviour.

So what if he ruins a perfectly good paint job? I told myself, I didn't care so long as he was happy. I didn't have to drive it. I had my ZX.

Bill went to Ballarat as soon as he felt well enough. I felt sure he would see the Academy wasn't a viable business proposition and certainly if he looked at the books he would see the debt accruing and do something about it. Le-Anne had made friends and was enjoying a social life, which we were pleased about, she was still a teenager she deserved a life.

Bill had bought a caravan and lived in it in her back yard. He seemed to look forward to spending more time there than Adelaide. I didn't mind one bit. I was busy and enjoyed every minute without having him to consider. I enjoyed running our businesses and leading an enjoyable social life. Mark assured me he preferred not having Bill there and reveled in total responsibility. Shane said he also liked it with dad away. I certainly liked it too.

I never ever did anything I was ashamed of. I was leading a man's way of life, there were needs my body demanded and I couldn't function adequately unless those needs were satisfied. I was surprised how easy it was for me to be able to discreetly fulfill my wanton desires.

I enjoyed my new friends and knew I held all the trump cards with them and used them to the max, I had the world at my finger-tips with no feelings of guilt. When Bill came home we would make love; after all the years of marriage I was now enjoying a more satisfying sex life with him due to his prolonged ejaculation, but I needed outside stimulation to enhance our union. I never realised what I had been missing through the years of our marriage. I guess what you don't know you don't miss.

I could see how a woman falls in love with an attentive lover who knows how to really satisfy her. Thankfully I was able to disassociate love from sex, an absolute necessity if extra marital affairs are to remain just that... extra. I had no desire to break up my marriage. I certainly didn't want to upset Bill or the children.

I had accumulated myself a lifestyle that enabled and empowered me to function to my utmost. I relished in my newfound confidence and lifestyle; no hurdle was too high for me to maneuver with first priority always being my family who were becoming pretty much independent anyway.

I was how-ever very concerned about the administration and finances of our business; I simply couldn't envisage how it could be resolved. Bill had always made these decisions I simply executed his ideas but now I was confused and felt he wasn't making practical decision like the shack he insisted we buy at Aldinga. I definitely wouldn't sign for anything I wasn't completely happy about consequently he repeatedly accused me of "suppressing the business."

During the sixties when our kids were little I felt so suppressed and trapped in a lonely mundane daily domestic routine that I occasionally considered leaving Bill especially after a bashing. I knew it was only a dream, in those days there was no support for women who left their husband besides it just wasn't acceptable to do so, marriage was for better worse, we obeyed our husbands, we pledged to 'obey' in our marriage vows, it was a standard clause in all marriages. I abided by my marriage vows for more than twenty years eventually finding a way around the vows in order to be happy and adequately enjoy myself whilst maintaining our family structure.

I now often dreamed of leaving Bill but knew it wasn't possible or even a consideration; he would have absolutely no idea how the businesses were administrated, no idea how to pay accounts, no idea how to cook, do laundry, run a household or even answer the phone. Bill had enjoyed living in his blissful world in his trance like state seldom coming alive to comprehend his surroundings, especially the true facts of the business.

Bill didn't want to know about our business administration or finances; he insisted that was my department. I simply couldn't comprehend where we were heading, all I could do was continue to manage the businesses whilst boosting Bill's ego and enjoying myself in secret.

Bill was happy to be left alone which I did though I knew I had to support and protect him and boost his confidence while making him think he was in charge and in control of our little empire. While Bill was 'in control' he was happy which contributed to a tranquil household, and I was able to get on with running the businesses and my life.

I didn't want to rock the boat, but knew I had to be aware of him suddenly snapping out of his trance like state and accusing me of outlandish misdemeanors, never accusing me of my actual demeanors.

I had never met another man like Bill but I had learned to accept his ways and get on with my life. I wished he could have been more of a companion but he wasn't, and so I, a master of making the best of any situation had inadvertently found myself leading a double life which I was confident I could secretly maintain; besides the business acumen of my new friends was invaluable, they advised and kept me sane. I am indebted to every one of them to this day.

With Bill and Le-Anne were in Ballarat, Mark and Shane doing their own thing I was mostly left to my own devices. I didn't sit home alone being morbid and lonely; I got out and about and enjoyed myself with my new group of men friends, variety was certainly the spice of my life during this uncertain period and each friend contributed different business acumen and advice which I gratefully took on board. I was able to adequately fulfill my responsibilities and keep sane with their help and support.

No-one suspected I had such a secret. If you want to keep a secret you must tell no-one. You must be a strong enough character to bear this burden alone: and it is a huge burden. My friends and I were always discreet and never made demands of each other. I was now not only working like a man and enjoying the same privileges as a man, but I was thinking as a man: well a man of my generation.

Woman weren't expected to be free or liberal thinking back then; women were expected to be subservient and obedient to their husband's demands and expectations. I was empowered by my new friends who boosted my ego and confidence. (I wonder if their wives 'obeyed' and were subservient).

I enjoyed these extra liaisons without any emotions wasted and certainly the 'L' word was never mentioned. I, as I'm sure these friends did, treated our liaisons as purely therapeutic and medicinal. These friends were in my 'other world', the world that kept me sane, in this world I was assured of self-worth.

I was ever so aware of maintaining my home and business life as was expected of me; especially being subservient to Bill I didn't want to upset him. It was no mean feat being subservient when I had to do everything involved with the businesses. I knew he was happy if left to do his own thing without anyone or anything interrupting him, and it was my job to make sure they didn't. I had become efficiently adept to managing the businesses all the while giving him the credit for their success.

Each time Bill came home from Ballarat we had sex and more sex. The more sex I had the more I wanted. This was a wonderful new revelation to me, my body craved orgasms, I couldn't get enough of them, if I wasn't sexually satisfied I couldn't function. It was like I was addicted to sex I had no feelings of guilt. I was hurting nobody! I was making my husband and selected man friends happy. Bill was happy, sex was on tap.

I was always careful to cover my tracks, always have an alibi and never leave any evidence which could reveal my secret. This was easy to achieve, Bill lived in his trance hardly aware of his surroundings, he never doubted my infidelity especially as I was always ready willing and able for sex with him, although I thought I had blown my secret the day a friend rang me and accused me in no uncertain terms of giving him "a dose of the crabs."

I was sure he had it wrong; it had to be some-one else he had caught them from. He was absolutely positive it had to be me.

"You go check yourself, then go to the chemist and buy treatment to get rid of them."

As he was talking I felt itchy. I checked, and sure enough little crawlies had invaded me. I was horrified and stunned. I felt degraded and filthy. I felt it was punishment for my sins. I couldn't begin to think who could have passed these critters on to me. How many others had I passed them on to? I was disgusted and mortified with myself.

The treatment worked instantly; the dead critters looked like miniature crabs; my knickers were full of them. YUK! What a way to get caught out. Bill was due home before the necessary follow up treatment. I would have to tell him.

I tentatively told him I must have got them from the toilets at squash as some other girls had. I thought this was a believable story because he once told me he had caught them (before we met) from the toilets while he was in National Service. He accepted this explanation without question but insisted he didn't have any of the horrible little critters.

"If I've had them you probably have them. You must use this treatment to be sure."

He certainly did have them; after treatment his white Y fronts displayed them in their glory, many more than I had, and much bigger ones. I felt so guilty passing these critters to him, especially as his crotch area was still tender from the radiotherapy treatment for his testicle cancer. Bill accepted the whole incident without question, I felt so relieved my 'extra' indulgences weren't exposed.

OMG! As I write this I have just realised... my guilt overrode the truth. I assumed it was me who passed the critters on but Bill's dead mites were so much bigger and more prolific than my baby critters, I must have contacted the mites from him: and I never once suspected.

OMG! Another light bulb moment, it has just hit me. One night going to bed I found a diamond stud earring in our bed, definitely not mine! It was much larger than any of mine. I pounced on it. Wow! What a find! Finders keepers!

I assumed Mark must have sneaked a lady in for an afternoon sojourn. I felt proud he befriended some-one who owned such a large diamond, well she don't anymore, its mine now.

Bill was noncommittal over the find which I thought strange... it was probably Bill who had the lady not Mark. Once again my guilt overrode my logical thinking even though I didn't think Mark knew anyone who would own such a large diamond.

I had one special man friend I'll call Peter, a married businessman, we became very close, we rang each other a few times each day, he was my main confidante, I off loaded all my concerns to him, he was my pseudo therapist. Ours was a very special relationship, though for me a very stimulating and frustrating relationship, there were no sexual advances at all. I had never met a man who could be so attentive and caring and not expect 'favors' in return. It was refreshing to know such a gentleman existed, but oh so frustrating. Just as well I had a few other friends who understood my physical needs without preamble.

Peter introduced me to computers. Commodore 64 was the only computer in the early eighties available to the general public. It had simple basic applications mainly used to play games on, a television screen doubled as the screen. Simple programs were being introduced. This was the era when economy was faltering, interest rates were rising, small businesses were forced to cut costs, the first cost cutting exercise was to do without a personal secretary (many personal secretaries fulfilled a double role with their bosses) and install a computer.

Many wives were recruited to replace the secretary and be trained into the world of computers, consequently many of our housewife woodcarvers were summoned by their husbands back into the family business to help through these tough times, their carefree 'idle housewife' image disappeared; they became stressed over the frustrations of the computer world and being employed by their husbands.

Peter owned a small business and replaced his secretary with a computer which he soon had working better and more efficiently than his secretary. He raved about the benefits of computers and promised to help me set one up. I bought one anticipating his help; sadly our relationship soured before he was able to set up a suitable program. The computer hadn't impressed me anyway I thought I could do my bookwork far quicker and more efficient without mucking around with a time-wasting gadget I didn't understand. Only progressive businesses owned a computer, well I had one, at least it made my office look professional and 'up- to date'.

Even though Bill and I enjoyed sex together we were still arguing about the Academies. I tried to explain we didn't have any spare cash. He was absolutely in denial that Ballarat was running at a huge loss and draining our accounts.

"Why is it that at Ballarat there is no stress?" he asked "I come home and you put stress on us all. I don't even want to come home anymore."

"Funny you should say that, when you are in Ballarat we are a happy stress-free team here too."

"That's a terrible thing to say."

"Well it's true."

Our quiet private dinners out together at restaurants always finished in a slanging match, he accusing me of not being able to balance the books, I accusing him of living in blissful denial in Ballarat with his head in the sand while its cost run us deeper in debt each month.

Bill absolutely refused to face reality. We were all happy when he returned to Ballarat. I guess I had my head in the sand too, although I knew we couldn't go on losing money each month I didn't know what to do about it, well I knew but the family wouldn't co-operate.

We all had to tighten our purse strings. I was in fact powerless and turned the family against me when I suggested we adhere to a strict budget. Lucky I was so busy and pre-occupied or else I would have worried myself sick.

Bill was blissfully adamant all was sailing along smoothly. I was the only drawback he kept reminding me. My helplessness and hopelessness was placated by my new found confidence. I relished in my confidence so much that I unwittingly overstepped the mark with Bill too often; it wasn't long before our cosy dinners at nice restaurants turned even sourer, fueled by alcohol.

We were both drinking more and more. Bill during the day at home in the shed where he was able to design without interruption with his flagons of port wine and bottles of whisky on hand to readily and absent mindedly sup on from the bottles; combined with strong anti-depressant and other prescription drugs obviously fueled a volatile time bomb. I also looked forward to my relaxant drink at home after work about 6pm, so by the time we went out to dinner we were both well primed.

When alcohol fueled I talked more confidently than usual about the Academy, asserting my opinions, inevitably by the end of our dinner we were primed enough to say stuff that would normally never pass our lips. Bill not only talked, he threatened and demanded me to accomplish unrealistic impossible achievements in a most unreasonable fashion, he couldn't comprehend there simply wasn't enough profit from the Academies to cover costs let alone live on. The Norwood Academy was running at a profit but nowhere near enough to cover the shortfall of the Ballarat Academy; I was absolutely shattered we couldn't discuss the running of Ballarat sensibly. I tried to explain we weren't covering our expenses each month but he wouldn't listen or accept anything negative about the Ballarat Academy. He continued in absolute denial.

What do I do? Maybe tomorrow he'll be more reasonable! He usually was, but whenever I thought we could enjoy a meal alone together the same accusations and demands were hurled at me. I must lay low. This is Bill's business I must promote him; his brains and skills are the backbone and success of it. My way of dealing with this situation was to do my best and 'see what happens'.

I knew something would have to happen sooner or later, our business or our relationship couldn't continue in this manner forever. I was so grateful for the sanity of my 'other world'. I am sure I could not have borne what Bill dished out to me without the support and advice from my 'friends'.

In desperation I finally gathered all the family together and explained our financial situation. None of us was paid a wage, there wasn't enough profit to pay family members a wage, instead we each had a cheque book which we used at will to buy what we needed, all from our one working bank account which I had to balance each month. This method of finances accrued by default as the businesses grew. I had never budgeted. I bought what was needed, my needs were basic and I couldn't go without these basics. I think I expected the rest of the family to think and spend money the same way. I was wrong.

I should have sought advice on how to establish our finances, not that I or any other family member would have headed advice given. Bill insisted we had enough collateral to extend the overdraft which I had often done. The bank was now making demands to me on paying the capital off the overdraft, not just the interest, but we could barely afford to pay the rising interest rate let alone any principal. Thus we continued getting deeper in debt. Bill never went to the bank, it was my duty to see to all that.

Bill decided we should let one of the rooms upstairs at the Academy to Julianne an artist who wanted to teach art, he thought art classes and woodcarving would complement each other while helping our financial situation. We cleared out the room with a sink and cupboard, ideal for an art studio. Julianne renovated this room into an attractive art studio. It worked well, we all got on well together, but it didn't solve our financial situation, the extra income was but a drop in the ocean.

My solution to solving our financial losses was to cut spending. I stressed to the family we must ALL pull our heads in and think twice before we spend money for the next twelve months. If we were all careful for a year we could lower the overdraft to a manageable level. I felt we could do this if we worked as a team and all co-operated. We decided the cheque books had to go, only Bill and I would have a cheque book, the kids would each be paid a wage, they in turn had to pay an equal amount each to pay off the large mortgage that was on Norwood taken out to buy the Ballarat property. I believed we could work our way out of this if everyone co-operated. I felt happy that I had solved our financial woes.

Shane's life revolved around sport; he played competitively every weekend with training during the week. Mark hung around with his friends, I'll call them Sue and Tom her fiancé. Sue a born organiser commandeered the group. Tony our young apprentice was included in the group. Tony's mother had been the Director at the Kindergarten our kids attended, she rang me at the Academy one day in despair, her son Tony though good with his hands was hopeless at academic studies she thought woodcarving classes may be beneficial to him. I absolutely understood because Mark had been in a similar situation at that age.

Tony excelled in woodcarving classes, he also helped in the factory; he proved to be an excellent worker. We took him on as an apprentice he became best mates with Mark.  
_Tony eventually bought that factory._

Sue showed much affection toward Mark, I would have loved them to become an item if Sue wasn't engaged to Tom. I loved Sue and Tom; they were both great people. I secretly thought Sue would be more suited to Mark than Tom and she'd make an excellent wife for Mark.

It was intriguing to watch the interaction between Sue and Mark, obviously Sue's parents were watching too, with great trepidation, they desperately wanted Sue and Tom to get married. They were quite verbal about the situation, no way would they accept Mark as Sue's partner. I wondered why? I decided they liked to control their kids, Tom was happy to abide by their every wishes, he was happy to do what-ever was necessary to please everyone especially Sue and her parents. Mark had a mind of his own, and it didn't always correspond with their way of thinking, but Mark didn't care he was his own man of which I was proud.

The pact I thought we made as a family to solve our financial situation wasn't working. Each person may have curbed their everyday spending, certainly I did, but during the next twelve months five cars were bought all from the communal cheque account, all encouraged by Bill.

We needed a delivery van so an economical Suzuki van as a run-a-bout was bought which Shane predominantly used for deliveries and transporting kits to and from the Academy and factory.

Le-Anne needed a reliable economical car to replace the Laser which was written off. The insurance refused to pay for the Laser because it was still registered in South Australia and housed in Ballarat, the sods used this as a loophole, of course it was my fault I had overlooked to notify the Insurance of the change of address.

It was during this year Mark bought a new imported Rocky 4WD Daihatsu which he had 'sooped up' before taking delivery. A raised hood, the chassis raised, springs strengthen, the motor hotted up, all these added another half of the cars cost to it. Bill and I were at a motor show, we saw a Rocky on display costing way less than Mark's.

"Why has my son's car exactly the same as this one but cost half as much again?"

"It's because of all the modifications and extras."

I had no idea Mark had ordered so many extras. These modifications caused many problems, which found him broken down in out of the way places, nevertheless he did many miles in this car, a lot of off-road travel, it served him very well and he loved it, but it didn't help our financial problem.

Bill decided he wanted a newer Jag. The XJ6 looked disgusting, the paint job he had tirelessly applied was fading and peeling, my much-loved Jag looked awful. I could understand his desire for another car, but I can never acknowledge the time and effort this hideous paint job took or the need to spoil the original quality enamel finish he had destroyed and painstakingly painted over with such inferior paint. He traded this tatty looking Jag in for a newer Jag; he was Bill Hoad making SA Great, he needed the prestige of a suitable car. It was my job to pay for it; as it was my job to pay for a Daimler Sovereign he exchanged his new jag for a few weeks later.

These additional cars incurred a large increase in the overdraft limit which I had extended and extended. I protested. I was outnumbered. My protests went to deaf ears. Apparently I was the only one curbing the spending. I had no idea where we were heading. Bill seemed quite indifferent to our financial crisis and carried on regardless seemingly in control.

I hoped his newfound confidence would lead us down the right path. I was at a loss to see any light at the end of the tunnel. We would need a miracle. I had no choice but to step back and see where Bill was leading us.

I doubted Bill's ability to get us out of this pickle, he had never looked at our books or taken an interest in them, he had no idea of how Shane and I run the business, he didn't want to know, and it was obvious he never looked at the Ballarat books.

I watched from afar with interest the interacting games unwittingly being played out with Mark, Sue, Tom and their friends; it was usually Sue who was the instigator, endeavoring to 'happen' to be alone with Mark at every opportunity. I unashamedly 'happened' to aid and abet these games. I thought Mark and Sue would be a dynamic team.

I could easily see the reasoning of Sue's manipulations I was doing exactly the same with my innocent extra marital liaisons. It took one to recognise one. How I wished Mark and Sue would confide in me, I would love to have given them my support and the benefit of my experiences.

Sue's mum asked me to accompany her to a theatrical show. Although we respected and thought a lot of this family I thought it a strange request as we had never mixed socially. She picked me up in her car we went to the show which we both enjoyed. On the way home she parked the car and said she wanted to talk. Whatever about? I wondered.  
What she told me shocked me to the core; in fact I didn't believe her and told her so.

"Well you'll find it's the truth sooner or later." She confidently insisted.

In no uncertain terms she told me Sue and Mark were having many secret liaisons. She detailed times and places they met after Tom had gone home. She adamantly told me her family would never accept Mark into their fold. Tom was the son-in-law they wanted. I don't know what she expected to gain by revealing to me what she believed was happening between Mark and Sue, maybe she thought I could control Mark as she controlled Sue.

Wrong! I had given my kids a free range of thought and deeds many years prior probably in primary school days. I simply didn't believe the stories she told me and told her so, though I was inwardly happy if there was an element of truth in her accusations that Mark and Sue were getting to spend time together, though be it clandestine.

I told Mark what Sue's mother had told me. I thought he should know what accusations he was accused of. Mark was absolutely furious, so furious he kicked Bill's prized coffee table, the one with the carved elephant tusk (plastic) set under glass he brought back from Fiji, so hard with his steel capped work boots the plate glass top smashed to smithereens.

Mark emphatically denied the accusations. I told him I didn't believe what I had been told but he seemed to think I was collaborating against him. I wasn't. I wanted my kids to all be happy I wanted what was best for them. I would always support my kids.

These events caused much unrest in our families. I didn't like it, and I'm sure none of our family liked it. Bill seemed to think I was making up the stories Sue's mum had told me. Why did she have to set me up to tell me this scandalous story?

Bill talked to Mark and was assured there was definitely nothing going on between him and Sue.

Life went on, the activities of Mark, Sue, Tom and their friends continued. It was obvious to me, since I had been alerted to the fact, something was in the air. Sue was a born organiser also a controller which I liked in a person until she started organising and controlling me... or trying to. I rebelled and didn't play her games. I didn't take kindly to Sue pretending innocence while organising me to accompany her and Mark on social events as if I was a chaperone.

One day as I was vacuuming Mark's room I come across a huge bulge under the carpet. I had laid this carpet in his room and I thought the underlay must have buckled. I lifted the carpet to straighten the under felt causing the bulge... Imagine my surprise when I found a heap of love cards and notes to Mark from Sue.

I was stunned.

I told Bill.

He didn't believe me.

I told him to go and have a look.

He stared at the telltale pile not saying a word.  
Next day all the cards and notes suddenly disappeared. The carpet wasn't bulging anymore. Bill defended Mark, insinuating I imagined seeing the pile of cards and letters.

I couldn't believe Bill's stance against me whilst protecting Mark contrary to the evidence before his eyes. Mark also took a hatred stance against me. I could not have believed our relationship had come to this. I absolutely understood Mark, I felt for him being in such an awkward situation. I wanted to support him in all ways possible but I was ostracised by both Bill and Mark.

The evidence I saw under Marks carpet proved Sue's mum to be right, but I wasn't about to give her the satisfaction of telling her, in fact I never talked to her about what I found. I never had any further conversations with any of that family ever again.

Bill refused to believe Mark had done anything wrong, he believed there was nothing going on between Mark and Sue, they convinced Bill there was nothing more than friendship between them. Bill accused me of causing trouble fabricating such a story. I was at my wits end. I wanted to support Mark too, but he was very aloof with me and supported Bill's stance against me and denied any evidence or liaisons with Sue.

The frustrating part for me was I wanted to help Mark work through this whole sordid mess, but he wouldn't let me, he wouldn't let me in, he wouldn't talk to me. I was also sad because I had become close to Sue in recent weeks, I liked her grit and determination, now we were estranged never to communicate again.

Mark and Bill treated me as if I was the enemy. I was at a loss as to why. Sue's family was also in turmoil, they were becoming estranged with Sue, so much so that she left home and rented a flat in a secret location.

I was concerned for Sue's fiancé Tom, such a nice genteel guy who rang me and apologised for the upset caused to our family. I told him things weren't good between Bill and me and I was blamed for causing this trouble. Tom assured me it wasn't my fault he had suspected something was going on between Sue and Mark for quite a while. Tom very sincerely told me "This is not your worry don't let this come between you and Bill. Don't let it upset your marriage."

It had! Something as stupid as kids love tiffs had caused a huge rift in our family. The arguments I had with Bill over the Academy now spread to...

"You are..........

"Meddling in the kid's lives"...

"Making all their lives miserable"...

"Always on their backs unnecessarily about an untidy house"

"You are impossible to live with!" as well as the usual...

"Holding the Academy back!".

"We'd be better off without you in our lives."

Our relationship had gotten so estranged I now seriously dreamed of leaving Bill, but would never had left him because though he had a new found confidence I knew he would never be able to cope, he had no concept of how our businesses functioned, it was way beyond his understanding, he had no idea of the extent of how or what I did for our businesses, and besides he wasn't interested in the mundane administrations, he didn't want to understand it, he wouldn't face the reality of our financial situation and now our family dispute.

"It's your department. You look after it! You'd better fix it." was his usual retort. I had to hang in there for the business's sake.

During this sad turn of events I couldn't believe Bill's superior attitude. I had wished many times that he would become more confident and assertive but this new confident attitude projected a superiority with the intent of intimidating me, it seemed he was trying to break my spirit. He had gained confidence in himself, it was like he suddenly came alive, he seemed happy and in control of this muddled situation, he was the great Bill Hoad of Hoad Woodcarving Academy making SA Great, he was living his dream and in his delusions he was in control of the business, the family and especially of me.

The pity of our situation Bill was living in a space of disillusionment; I think he really believed he was in command of a successful business and he was the successful business man. Mark was supporting these disillusions.

The evenings were particularly nasty, he was drinking even more now and becoming more abusive to me. He was totally unreasonable in his accusations and demands of me. I was completely at a loss as to where our future was heading. How do I handle this situation? I was devastated; I couldn't imagine how our marriage and businesses could survive.

How had our successful business, our happy marriage and family be in such turmoil? It wasn't because of my deceitfulness because no-one knew about my dalliances though I felt I was being punished because of my deceitfulness; even so I relied more and more on the support of my 'confidante' and 'extra' friends, who were only too willing to give me sound professional advice. Thanks to their advice I was able to function as well as I did, they assured me I was of sane mind and made me aware of my legal rights. I am absolutely indebted to them especially Peter who was always only a phone call away, he kept me sane assuring me of my sanity.

Le-Anne in Ballarat wasn't in the midst of this unsettling situation and she didn't want to know about it.

Mark supported Bill, they were both very offhanded toward me, I couldn't understand why; it seemed as if they blamed me for the unrest in our family. I was shattered, I didn't know what I could do to bring unity back to our family any attempts to do so were rejected.

Shane working with me was an innocent bystander, he couldn't help but witness the debacle and the many accusations and arguments.

I would have been totally distraught if it hadn't been for Shane, he did the books he knew the state of our finances and witnessed the nasty confrontations, he understood the situation I was in, he knew it wasn't my fault; he was in an uncompromising situation. He didn't want our family undergoing this stress any more than I did. I had thought we had a good relationship as a family and a good business.

I was at a loss as to how it could have gone so wrong. I was distraught. I believed I was being punished for my transgressions. I felt I had to accept this blame totally alone and wear it even though my friends' and 'confidante' assured me it was totally wrong to blame myself.

"It is not your fault." they continually told me.  
I was certain no-one knew of my wrongful dalliances and I knew I hadn't hurt or upset any-one along the journey into my new lifestyle, but my subconscious knew it as wrong.  
I was being punished.  
I had let down my Guardian Angel, she was punishing me.  
I knew She had looked after me since leaving home as a teenager.  
She protected me, and opened the way for me to have such an exciting fulfilling life, but...  
She obviously didn't approve of this, my 'new lifestyle'.  
I had also deceived my conscience.  
My conscience had always kept me on the straight and narrow path.  
I usually made sure I never went against my conscience (because my conscience is unforgiving) until...my wanton fanny took over and compelled me to go where it led.  
I now understood the saying I had often heard: -

'A stiff Prick has no conscience'.

Damn it. I will ride this through. I am not giving up my 'friends'. They keep me sane, their company and willing professional advice are invaluable to me, especially Peter my principal listener and acting pseudo therapist. I justified my decision by telling myself 'I am not hurting anyone' nor were my friends, they were simply a means of emotional and physical support which I desperately needed, even more now.

Bill was becoming more and more confident with himself and believed he had the right to live his life as he wished. I agreed. He wanted to be totally alone to design and create, he decided to go to our Aldinga beach house.

"To get away from the pressure you put on us all."

He (mistakenly) believed Le-Anne was capable of running the Ballarat Academy without his presence, thus he set off for Aldinga, telling us he didn't know when he would be back. He made the large downstairs room into a workshop setting up an electric band saw and his tools of trade around and directly on the pool table.

The only possible communication between us was if he rang from a public phone booth which he didn't. There was no phone connected to the beach house and of course mobile phones weren't even thought of.

Peace again with him gone. I worried about Le-Anne alone at Ballarat. I knew she would have been under enormous pressure with no support, she was only nineteen years old.

I couldn't imagine how Bill would cope at Aldinga or even feed himself I was amased he chose to live there. I would have thought Ballarat would have been the better and more practical option for him, he could at least support Le-Anne . No way would he heed any suggestion from me, he seemed to be past reasoning. I gave up. Eventually he came home very remorseful saying "I missed my kids."

The night he returned to Aldinga I was going to dinner then theatre with Jill I had booked tickets because Bill said he wouldn't be home. I said goodbye to him as he went to Aldinga and I to the theatre. Jill and I had a quick dinner and enjoyed the show, she was having marital problems and her husband wasn't at home so she suggested we go for a drink at the Hilton where we could sit quietly and chat, it was okay by me because Bill wasn't home either.

We relaxed in the comfortable lounge chairs in the pleasant surroundings of the Hilton Hotel, we chatted and chatted. I think we both needed to talk, we had no idea each other was having marital problems. This night as we discussed our husbands and their drinking habits Jill said "A drunk speaks a sober mind."

This saying still remains in my mind and over the years I sincerely hoped it wasn't true...wishful thinking I ascertain.

We had no idea of the time; it didn't matter anyway we had no-one at home waiting; we were absorbed in each other's similar problems. Finally about 2am we had exhausted ourselves having got heaps off our chests which was for me great therapy because I thought I was the only one with such problems and specifically caused by me because I was such a difficult person to live with. We went home to our empty houses.

Imagine my surprise! Bill's car was in the drive.

Why wasn't he at Aldinga? What was wrong?

He greeted me with abusive accusations

"Where have you been? Out with a fella hey? Caught you out didn't I? It's a wonder you came home at all. I knew I'd catch you being unfaithful."

He wouldn't listen to my truthful explanations. I told him to ring Jill. He didn't. He had doubled back from Aldinga with the intention of catching me out. I'm sure he wanted to believe his accusations. He didn't stay that night at home, he drove back to Aldinga even though he had been drinking all night.

It was becoming clear: it was practically written on the wall; he was looking for an excuse to get rid of me. It wouldn't happen through my dalliances I would make sure of that.

'You've got to be smarter than that Bill Hoad to catch me out'.

Living with Bill now was even more strained, his superior attitude and unrealistic demands surprised not only me but the kids as well. Bill and I avoided each other though had sex occasionally but virtually lived independent lives. He now presumed he had taken over control of our businesses, he was dictating orders, even though they were absolutely unreasonable and impossible to implement.

I only fulfilled realistic orders, when I didn't comply with his unrealistic demands he accused me of

"Holding the business back!"

"Ruining the business!"

"Causing a rift within our family!"

"We'd be a whole lot better without you in our lives."

I couldn't believe what he was saying and was concerned he had such outrageous thoughts, though I would have been happy out of his life, but not the kid's lives. I was happy he assumed the role of being in charge even though it was so uncharacteristic of him, I could only assume he was spurred in by alcohol and drugs, but I was worried about his unrealistic demands. I had no idea where we could possibly be heading? I was happy for Bill to be in control, but his solutions were simply unreasonable and undoable.

One evening I was laying in the outer family room on a bean bag on the floor relaxing after a grueling day at work trying to balance budgets, I passively approached Bill about the Academy financial problems which were rapidly getting worse as each car was bought.

As usual he wouldn't accept my explanation and flew into an uncontrollable rage, then he started bashing me as I lay on the bean bag.

I felt so defenseless as his piercing glazed eyes glared down at me with such venom as he relentlessly bashed into me not seeming to care that Mark and Shane were home and may witness this attack; he had never hit me in front of the children before.

He was cowering over me, bashing with all his might as I tried to defend myself on the floor in the beanbag. He was the most vicious I had ever seen him, his face had such a hateful determined look, his eyes were piercingly deadly with each thrash of his arm to my defenseless body. I was terrified unable to get out of the beanbag to escape as he continued to threaten and hit me.

I was so grateful the boys were home, I instinctively screamed out to them; they both instantly came rushing to my aid. It was such a relief to see Bill being hauled off me by my boys, one each side of him each with an arm held securely as they dragged him away. Never was I so relieved. I dread the consequences if the boys hadn't been there to save me.

The boys were going out that night Shane was concerned for my welfare.

"Shall I stay home with you? Will you be safe?"  
I assured him I would be. I knew Bill would as usual be docile after his outrage. He was.

It seems he stews and brews then explodes. I must be extra careful not to antagonise him to exploding point though I didn't think I had. His outbursts were becoming more vicious, dangerous and more often. Our marriage was quickly disintegrating. It was a very stressful time. |

Shane said "Mum I wouldn't blame you if you left dad."

If only?

Leaving was a flight of fancy for me.

I would love to be free to live my 'other life'.

To save my sanity the next day I took Fleur and went to Maslin Beach. I got chatting to a tall, well built, tanned handsome younger man, he was a charmer and literally swept me off my feet. Alas he was single. I would be breaking my rules befriending him, but damn it I was past caring, I needed deviation from my family predicament. Lawrie walked me to my car, we said goodbye and I drove home relieved there were no phone numbers exchanged, but maybe we'd see each other at Maslin Beach again one day.

The following day Lawrie rang.

"How did you get my phone number?"  
He had memorised it from the advertising boards on my car. I was impressed. I couldn't believe such a handsome hunk could be interested in me. I couldn't resist his charms. It was over two weeks before he rang again, full on charm, with a dominant attitude. He said he'd been 'away', then later revealed he had been in jail. My alarm bells should have alerted me to potential disaster, but his flippant explanation and charm alleviated any concerns I had. His stint in jail was over a woman who he wouldn't leave alone, she had him arrested.

Lawrie wooed pursued and flattered me, this was a new experience to me, just what I needed to keep my mind occupied and my confidence up. Larry emotionally dominated me, having a male dominate me was a turn on, especially the handsome hunk he was, he virtually consumed every minute of my spare time and more; when he said "come" I did. He would ring up and demand me to "Get your arse over here. I am horny!"

I did. I was his puppet. I couldn't help myself... because... he was, by a million miles, the best lover I had ever been with. He gave me total orgasms whether I felt like it or not. He was a total charmer, a true lady's man, and an excellent orgasmic deliverer. That's where his virtues stopped.

I enjoyed Lawrie's total devotion, it was a great source of distraction from my troublesome life, even though I knew I was playing with fire but I didn't care; I needed this distraction to cope with life at home which was becoming more and more unpleasant. I was the ogre. I was the cause of all the unhappiness and unrest within our home and businesses. Bill constantly told me so. With Lawrie I was a treasured princess.

I knew Lawrie wasn't the type of person I would normally choose as a friend, but the attention he showered on me, and the power he had over me was amasing. I couldn't believe I could be so gullible. I couldn't help myself. I knew he was a walking disaster and tried to finish with him but he demanded my presence, and though I didn't want to he managed to manipulate me and placate me with such delicious orgasms I was butter in his hands.

He confided in me, he told me of his conquests with ladies. He loved ladies... until they loved him in return, then he played games with them. He lived off ladies, not because he conned them but because they wanted to help nurture and mother him.

During the time I knew Lawrie he was never employed but one lady bought him a furniture removal business because she believed her and Lawrie were an item and could work together in the business. This was a joke, Lawrie wasn't a worker he was a lady charmer, a very clever one.

I was hugely entertained by his antics which he readily related to me. I know they were true because he encouraged me to listen in to his telephone conversations as he chatted and charmed unsuspecting women. One day the lady who bought him the furniture removal business rang me; we talked for hours on the virtues or rather non-virtues of Lawrie. He wasn't after ladies money, just their minds and bodies. He never asked for money from me, nor, I believe anyone, even when he was absolutely broke which was mostly always. He expected something to come along to 'help', and it usually did... in the form of a female.

Lawrie was a great source of entertainment for me, he related all his trysts and conquests to me in detail. I listened in awe to the phone calls he made to ladies, he was a charmer and they all fell for him. I couldn't believe how he could think up such outrageous schemes and achieve such conquests, he was very clever and a quick thinker. I told him if he put the same energy into a business as he did into women he'd be a millionaire in no time. "But" I told him "you would need a manager, and you would have to do exactly as the manager says."

"I try and do the right thing but there is this little head 'down there' that pops up and leads me along another path."  
This little head (in his trousers, which wasn't so little) ruled Lawrie, when it got the sniff of a lady... it followed... pulling Lawrie in its wake.

As entertaining as Lawrie was I knew I was playing with fire, he commanded more of my time than I was prepared to spend with him, when I told him I wasn't seeing him anymore he threatened to tell Bill.

He took photographs of us and threatened to send them to Bill. I was concerned because he had nothing to lose. I had broken one of my strict rules, becoming involved with an unmarried man. One night when I knew he was out with a lady I went to his flat, feeling very guilty and lowly I took the fly screen off the window, climbed in, replaced the offending film with an empty one, climbed out, replaced the screen and fled home. I couldn't believe I had let myself stoop so low to befriend such a worthless person. I wanted out, but I was trapped. At least I was safe from blackmail evidence.

Lawrie continued threatening me with these photos which he said he had developed and were very explicit. I was thankful I had destroyed these photos and knew he was making idle threats. I was so grateful I had lowered myself to break in and steal the film. When you have secret liaisons it is paramount to exercise great caution in order to keep your secret. I knew none of my male married friends would spill on me because they were all married and in the same position as me, besides they knew no-one I knew. Lawrie was a whole different dangerous ball game.

The biggest risk of me being caught out was phone conversations if they were overheard. We had bought a wonderful new device, a telephone answering machine costing $1200 plus a lengthy complicated agreement we had to undertake with Telecom (now Telstra). I thought an answering machine would be a huge bonus for our business. I had it installed at home to be sure I didn't lose potential woodcarving enquiries.

I was surprised how many people even family friends wouldn't leave a message, maybe only one in ten callers left a message. People seemed to be fearful of this wonderful new apparatus I thought was a great invention and huge asset.

This answering machine could easily have caused my secret to be revealed though I was continually astute and cautious, fortunately my perseverance with these cautions saved me from being found out. Lawrie delighted in leaving all sorts of suggestive messages on this machine, any time of the day or night, he didn't care if I was caught out, he didn't have a wife, he had nothing to lose.

I knew I was a fool, but I was trapped, Lawrie wouldn't leave me alone. The only thing that saved me was the police. Not literally. Lawrie had confided he was wanted by the Queensland Police. Yes, over women. When necessary I threatened to go to the police, these threats totally tamed him. I used them often. They were a great comfort to me.

One day he proudly told me the daughter of a policeman had fallen in love with him. "She is totally besotted. She looks at me with tears in her eyes and begs me never to leave her."

"Do her a favor and break off with her now." I sincerely advised him.  
He married her. At least it got him off my back.

Life at home was becoming more strained, it would have been intolerable for me without my 'outside interests'. Mark siding with Bill was a force I couldn't accept; they were both nasty to me. I couldn't fathom why, I loved my son, and I wanted what was best for him and all the family. I desperately wanted all my kids to be happy. I had told them when they were younger "You never have to worry about anything. If there is anything you are really worried about tell me and I will attempt to put it right. I now felt as if I was walking on eggshells. I couldn't do anything right.

The boys only came home to sleep, I couldn't blame them the atmosphere at home was awful. Bill constantly told me how hard I was to live with. I would have been totally distraught if I hadn't had my 'other life' providing me with an entertaining deviation from the reality of my business and marriage; a life where my friends held me in high esteem and boosted my confidence.

"Only I would ever be able to put up with you. No-body else could ever live with you. You'll grow to be a lonely old lady." Bill often snarled at me.

"I'll never be lonely. I like people too much."  
I was just so grateful for the sanctuary of my 'other life' which provided frivolity and fun and restored my faith and confidence.

One day Bill and I were having the usual discussion

"Where do I get the money to pay the bills?"

"That's your department, deal with it." He flung at me.

The usual accusations were also vehemently flung at me then he accusingly screamed at me

"You are ruining all our lives. We'd all be better off without you."

"I may as well leave home then" I dutifully dared to say "we are doing nothing but arguing."

"Yes!" Bill agreed. "I think we should separate, that would be the best for us all if you leave home."

I could scarcely believe my ears. Could my dream come true?

"Decide where you want to live and I will help you move."  
We actually sensibly discussed how we could separate. I could live above the Academy. It would be convenient for work; I wouldn't have to travel. I'd save heaps of time.

"Tell me what you need to make yourself comfortable there I'll do whatever I can."

I could scarcely believe what he was saying. I never dared hope a separation could ever happen let alone Bill condoning it. Surely he couldn't comprehend the full extent of 'separation'.

I was now positive he was living in a disillusioned state, the antidepressant drugs and alcohol had surely addled his brain. Him being only too willing to 'help' me move out of home was an absolute revelation. I would utilise his offer of help to the utmost, as soon as possible while he was still in this mind set.

For the first time in many years we actually had sensible discussions; our 'separation' was civilly settled between us. Bill agreed to 'help' me leave him. I couldn't believe my luck.

I went out to the kitchen and punched the air with my fist.

"You Little Beauty!" I inwardly screamed.

# Chapter 30

## The Separation

I knew I must never show Bill how happy I was to separate. I must maintain a sad dejected and broken persona to execute this separation without instilling his wrath. I must let him believe he is in control of our separation, he is the one kicking me out; he is the superior being in our separation, he is in control of the process of separating. It was obvious he wanted me out of our home and marriage. GOOD! I was happy to play his game though it was very difficult for me to act demurely and contrite, I am not a good actor I prefer to let my totally free and natural persona carry me through life, however I knew I must contain myself until separation was completed.

Bill was happy, the happiest he'd been for a long time he kept his promise to help me move and do whatever he could to make my new home as comfortable as possible. I knew I had to utilise humility and get as much help from him while he was in this frame of mind which was totally out of character for him. He had refused to do any work of any description on our homes for years and now he was prepared to do whatever I asked to have me move out of our home into the Academy. It was obvious he wanted me out of his life, I could not believe my luck, it was hard for me to project a depressed image when I was so happy.

I needed one of the upstairs store rooms at the Academy converted to a bedroom, Bill happily helped me renovate and wall paper this room, install intricate cornices and built to my specifications floor to ceiling wardrobes either side of the ornate fire place which I covered in drapes rather than doors.

I was happy; it had been many years since Bill had done so much practical work specifically for me. During these renovations Bill was the nicest and most co-operative he had been towards me for a long time. I would take advantage of his co-operation while it lasted and try not to rock the boat. We actually worked in harmony together until my bedroom was completed. I knew Bill's attitude towards me would sour when the reality of our separation had hit home to him. I knew I had to get as much work done by him as possible before reality hit him, but most of all I knew I must not show my true feelings about the separation. I must remain subservient and let him be the instigator; if he for one minute thought I was looking forward to the separation and happy about it things would turn sour... really quick.

The Woman of the Year Luncheon was held in Perth this year. We had decided earlier in the year it was too far to drive and Bill wouldn't fly or travel by bus, so for the first time I had planned to attend this function on my own. Great it would give me a chance to catch up with a friend, a real estate guru who had moved to Perth from Adelaide because the real estate market in Perth was about to take off. This guy was single, just a friend who didn't make demands of me, he had rung me a few times and said I should invest in Perth as the real estate boom hadn't hit Perth and properties were ridiculously cheap. I was keen to check it out, I had never been to Western Australia this was a wonderful opportunity.

I was excited to be going on my own, the first time I had gone anywhere without Bill. I would go by bus and break the three day continuous trip with a stop-over in Ceduna to spend time with mum, family and friends. This was a wise move. It was great catching up with family and the stop over certainly was a welcome break on such a long journey.

On the bus I got chatting to an older lady in the seat next to me, she extracted my life story from me. I poured out to her the problems of my marriage it was good to talk to a willing listener. Without hesitation she told me "Your husband is an alcoholic."

"No he isn't. He never acts as if he is drunk."

"His irrational behavior, decision making and outbursts are typical symptoms of an alcoholic."

She was adamant, but I didn't believe her because Bill never acted stupidly.

It wasn't until many years later that I realised she was right.

The luncheon took in a whole day, the activities and hospitality during the day was so well organised. Perth's VIP's turned it on for us. I was pleased I had travelled by road it gave me a true insight into how far Perth is from the rest of Australia. I couldn't help but notice the insular attitude of Perth people, I guess because they are so isolated from the rest of Australia; it almost seemed as if they didn't acknowledge the rest of Australia existed and having traversed across Australia by road I understood.

I enjoyed the freedom of being alone to savor the experience of the luncheon, of Perth, and catching up with my single real estate guru who lived in a lovely apartment at South Perth overlooking the Swan River. I was keen to learn as much about Perth real estate as possible.

Our relationship wasn't physical, probably because in Adelaide, back at his place after a cosy dinner at a quiet restaurant he asked if I would like to try some 'coke'. I thought he meant a drink. When I realised it wasn't a drink I said "No thanks! "excused myself and went home. We had kept in touch by phone strictly on a professional level.

I was interested to see the properties he showed me in Perth but wasn't overly impressed, nothing tempted me to invest. We had dinner and I didn't hang around, I taxied back to my hotel, I didn't want to find myself in a confronting position or being offered offensive substances, especially as he knew I was separating from my husband.

Back in my lovely suite in a hotel overlooking the Swan River I craved company. I wanted to share this lovely suite and my new found freedom. I browsed the local paper and found in the 'personal column' what I thought an appropriate request for a ladies company. It turned out I was right. I met the loveliest man, married, lonely and unfulfilled as I was. We had a wonderful few days, he discreetly showed me around Perth, and took me to select restaurants, being sure to be home when expected so as not to raise any suspicions.

We remained good friends with many long phone conversations, and sleep overs at his hotel when he stopped over in Adelaide on his way to the eastern states on business. He was one of the nicest men I ever met, so kind and caring. I often wonder what happened to him. I wish him all the happiness possible; he deserves it.

Bill had promised to have my new living quarters at the Academy ready for me when I returned from Perth, and I promised to move into them instead of home. This would be the formal separation I was looking forward to and am sure Bill was too; it was obvious as he was still being exceptionally nice and exerting himself to please me. I lapped it up and pretended to be contrite. I couldn't show my enthusiasm, I knew he wouldn't take kindly to me being excited, although he said to the boys "Mum wouldn't leave home unless she wanted to."  
How true!

I wasn't surprised when the work wasn't completed, but I moved in anyway. Bill told me to take whatever I wanted from home to make myself comfortable. I did. I was so excited to be starting a new life without having to cow tow to Bill, but I must remember to contain my excitement in order to get as much co-operation from him as possible while he was still in an agreeable mood. It was obvious he still wanted me out of home and prepared to exert himself to help me make the move. I demurely took advantage of his eagerness whilst pretending I wasn't on cloud nine. I knew his eagerness wouldn't last but while he thought he was in control of the situation he was agreeable to any of my requests. I told the kids I wasn't leaving them; they could come to my new home whenever they wished especially for meals.

It was hard work renovating my new home, I worked long hours. Inevitably I didn't sleep all that well, so instead of lying in bed thinking rubbish I'd get up and renovate, paint or wall paper thinking I'd go back to bed in a couple of hours, which never happened. I often worked from two or three in the morning till bedtime at night.

My completed pad was lovely. I loved it. I decorated my bedroom with delicate drapes and chandeliers in a dreamy feminine setting. I wanted to create a room that intimidated men. I showed my handworks to the woodcarvers downstairs and was surprised when one bold guy said "Intimidate men? It doesn't affect me that way at all."

It was great not to have to travel to work. I loved having a steep staircase to run up and down which I did regularly with the office upstairs and the Academy downstairs, I'm sure it kept me fit because it was the only exercise I did (apart from squash) and it never tired me.

It was also great not having to prepare meals for the family though I found it surprisingly hard cooking for just one after years of cooking for a family, even so I was happily settling into my new home above the Academy. It consisted of my bedroom, family/living/sewing room and the grand showroom/office which I loved working in plus a laundry and bathroom. I didn't have a kitchen and didn't want one. I had a small fridge and microwave in the laundry along with an electric jug and electric fry pan, quite adequate for me.

Julianne ran her art classes in the fourth upstairs room and wasn't there most of the time. After classes finished downstairs I had the whole building to myself. It was quite weird, I had never lived in a district shopping zone and the strange noises at night were scary. I felt safer when I brought the 22 rifle from home and kept it under my bed. Yes I would have used it if I needed to, but I would have heeded my mother's words. "Don't shoot to kill. Shoot for their legs, that will disable the offender and you can only be charged for manslaughter not murder."

I had thought about it, I would have shot through the window into the air first, I figured that would scare intruders off. Thankfully action with the gun wasn't needed.

I was surprised when one day the police knocked on my door, they wanted to register I was living alone and gave me advice on security. I was humbled by this and felt safer. I didn't tell them about the gun!

Mark and Shane, against my theory of curbing spending, had installed a two way radio between the Academy and the factory and all their cars. This new mode of communications was a boon to our business and I found a boon to me now living alone. The boy's mates also had two-way radios in their cars on the same frequency, it was like having company listening to the chatter of all the lads on the radio after work. I always knew where they were and what they were up to.

One weekend when our car park (my back yard) was empty of cars, a car full of lads dangerously did wheelies round and round the gravel destroying the car park. I was terrified they would crash into the deep cement garden borders and be killed. I radioed Mark and Shane then rang the police.

Before I got off the phone my place was surrounded by six cars all mates of Mark and Shane's who had heard my radio call. The offenders had fled. The police arrived much later. I was so appreciative of the two way radio the boys had to convince me to install. I felt safe in my new home.

One Sunday soon after I left home, I went to collect some of my belongings from Hectorville. Bill came out of the bedroom (our bedroom) saying "I've got to warn you, I have a lady here."

I was staggered. This convinced me to take all of my possessions from Hectorville. I removed everything that was mine, including the silver, china, linen and crystal which Bill had told me I could have. I even ripped down the drapes and pelmets I had made in the lounge and bedrooms.

"You don't have to go the extreme, she's not like that." Bill pleaded.

"I am not leaving all my handiwork for another lady to enjoy. She can make the place nice for you."  
_I still have the lounge drapes and pelmets proudly hanging in my current home._

My routine Pap smear test found a small growth which my gynecologist removed, fortunately thanks to regular tests provided by the government many lives were saved, including mine. I was closely monitored for many years, fortunately always given a clean bill of health. The gynecologist said I was in the middle of menopause. This was a shock. I hadn't considered I was old enough to be menopausal; he gave me a questionnaire to answer on how I felt, my moods, hot flushes etc. and a script for pills saying "you will take these for the rest of your life."

I accepted this without question. Six week later I visited him for a follow up and filled out the same questionnaire again. I was surprised to see the remarkable difference in myself, the moods and hot flushes had gone. How clever this gynecologist was to detect I was menopausal when I hadn't noticed _? I took these Hormone Replacement Therapy pills for more than 20 years until I reluctantly on medical advice weaned myself off them... then returned the hot flushes._

I found a small lump in my breast. I had to have it out. Bill believed he had psychic powers others wouldn't understand, he said he had a feeling someone had cancer and thought it would be him, he seemed relieved when I told him of my lump; he even appeared concerned. I wasn't, I wasn't going to worry until I knew what the lump was; sure enough it was nothing. I was pleased I hadn't wasted energies on worrying over nothing.

Bill was concerned I was spending so much time at the Academy in my new home and "not getting out and about".

He told me I should get out more and proudly said "You should go to the singles club I go to, it's only $3 entry, you can have my membership now, I don't need it."  
I couldn't help but secretly smile at his superior attitude.

"I would never go to that singles meat market. I'd more likely start my own select group."

Maybe it was just as well I didn't take his membership for the singles group, after I took all my things out of Hectorville I saw no more evidence of that lady in the house; in fact the house became an absolute pigsty.

Bill blissfully lived without realising an effort was needed to keep a home tidy. Mark slept in his room in the shed, Shane's sixteen year old girlfriend Lorita was there most of the time but no-one did any housework. I couldn't believe what I saw, everyone sitting in the TV room amidst overflowing maggot ridden rubbish bins, overflowing cigarette trays, empty bottles, dirty clothes, take-away food packages etc. etc. strewn all over the rooms. I was repulsed and couldn't wait to get out of this disgusting mess. I confronted Bill about the state of their living standards.

"Leave us alone. We are a happy household now." He proudly boasted to me.

Our separation was amicable but the problem of our financial state was getting worse. Something had to be done, and pronto. Bill suggested the beach house at Aldinga should be sold, we owned that freehold. I thought the Ballarat property should be the one we sold it was running more at a loss each month but Bill wouldn't hear of that.

We had built the beach house from the sale of the second home my parents bought for us at Kensington Park, it had been a good investment but we wouldn't be using it as a family again, we would sell it to pay off our overdraft. The 18% interest rate alone was now too much for me to find each month let alone any of the principal that was still escalating out of control.

It was sad to be selling the beach house but now our family was split we would never use it again as a family. I went to Aldinga to get the house ready for sale. I couldn't believe what I saw. The downstairs room Bill used as his workshop was an absolute mess, band saw off cuts woodchips and sawdust all but covered the beds and pool table. It would take many barrow loads to clear the mess out. I went home and told Bill I'd sell it when he cleaned it up. He was the one who mostly wanted it sold so he quickly cleaned it out. It sold easily at the conservative price we put on it, just enough to cover our overdraft and give us a clean slate.

We were finally debt free apart from a small house loan on Hectorville, and the large business mortgage on Norwood my current home. The Ballarat property and the factory at Kensington were freehold. This was a huge load off my mind even though I had to keep the Academy running and pay all the running costs and mortgages which the kids had been subsidising from their wages.

I was happy to be free of the responsibility of Bill; his independent attitude dismissed me from the responsibility of looking after, protecting and promoting him. I was freed from supporting him by his new found independence. Good. I can now without guilt lead the life I yearn for, freedom to do as I please. But I knew I must still protrude a wistful demure profile. I must not let Bill see how happy I was.

I continued to worry about the state of the living standards at Hectorville, but was told by Bill to stay out of it, he insisted he was running a happy household, and he had...

"a lady friend in mind who will take your place."  
He said this lady was capable of doing everything I did, and also everything I didn't do that he expected me to do.

I wondered who on earth this wonder lady could be. I felt so worthless, but I mustn't let his cruel words upset me.

I had lots of friends new and old who supported me, especially our long time family friends who saw Bill's unrealistic attitude developing and witnessed the demise of our family. I was rather taken aback when I realised our situation was obvious to our friends and rather humbling when they offered me their full support.  
_They are still my very dear friends._

I found out who the 'wonder lady' was. She was a tenant from earlier years who we befriended, a lovely lady who had recently separated from her husband and was currently attending woodcarving classes.

Shane and I watched with interest and made it as difficult as possible for Bill as he tried to woo this lady during her attendance at our classes. I thought it a huge joke because I knew this lovely lady would never consider Bill as a partner. It never eventuated, years later she told me Bill had proposed and she declined.

Bill visited all our unattached female friends trying to form a relationship with them, his persistence became a nuisance to them, they didn't want his attention. I know because they couldn't wait to ring and tell me, and offer their support to me. I didn't feel so worthless now.

A few of the ladies of our friends who had broken marriages and I became allies, they each befriended me, we were support for each other. Pam who lived at Netherby and I became good friends, we spent a lot of leisure time together, and accompanied each other on many outings, also Barb A and Jill.

I had never had a special lady bosom friend, I simply had lots of friends, especially males whom I related to more so than females. I was touched that Pam seemed to claim me as her 'best' friend. We used each other as a sounding post to off load the bad experiences we each faced with our husbands during this awful time in our lives.

Pam had been seeing a physiatrist since her marriage breakup and had gained confidence in herself. I didn't need to see a physiatrist to gain confidence I simply needed to prove to myself that I wouldn't grow to be a lonely old lady. I knew no one would ever be able or want to live with me and I was planning my future as a single lady, but I was determined I would never be a lonely old lady, as Bill had convinced me I would.

Living on the premises at Norwood I could now manage the Academy on my own. Shane was considering leaving the Academy I couldn't blame him the atmosphere was not a pleasant environment. He wanted to buy into a courier business. I offered him the Suzuki van and enough money to buy the courier business. He excelled at this business and was happier away from the stress of family arguments.

Bill was happy, he believed he was in control of me and our businesses, he relished in the recognition of being Bill Hoad making South Australia Great. I could never have imagined the advertising clip I instigated and encouraged him to do could eventuate to these extreme circumstances and his delusions of grandeur. He was The Bill Hoad of Hoad Woodcarving Academy making South Australia Great. He didn't have to attend work, he had his dream car, he had me out of his home and his life, and he had a cheque book from our shared account which I had to manage. He was living in a life of delusions, he had no concept of the reality of our business or financial status.

I was aghast at the large amounts of the cheques he regularly wrote. I questioned him about them. Apparently he had a lady friend at Elizabeth costing him heaps to woo, especially the fuel his Daimler used travelling to and fro. I wasn't about to work the Academy for Bill to spend all the profits on other ladies, if he wanted me out of his life it was all or nothing, he had the factory and the Academy at Ballarat both properties freehold, he was the great Bill Hoad, let him prove his greatness and fend for himself. I closed the joint cheque account and opened a separate one for the Norwood Academy which paid all the businesses accounts and the mortgage loan for the Ballarat property; I told him to do the same for the other two businesses which he was supposedly in control of.

Bill had never contributed to the administration or productivity of running our businesses he believed he shouldn't have to work he was the producer of designs and prototype models for instructors to follow; besides he was Bill Hoad of Hoad Woodcarving Academy making South Australia Great, if he was so great let him earn his own money. I had finished financing him, I had done it for twenty-two years, it felt right to close the joint accounts.

Bill didn't work, he didn't administer his businesses, as he run out of funds he'd sell another valuable artifact we had bought over the years and pieces of furniture he had made. Luckily, at his request, I had most of our furniture in the showroom/lounge at the Academy or that would have been sold as well.

"What am I going to live on?" he asked. "I haven't got anything left to sell."  
I had lost all respect and patience with him.

"Try working, or go to the doctor and ask for an invalid pension, admit your brain is stuffed." I dared say.

He was still taking the original antidepressants plus another 'booster' type drug, plus blood pressure pills plus other prescription drugs I have no idea what for, all these cost him a thresh hold of $240 per year, then the government paid the rest, it seemed farcical to me the Government supported drug addictions. I couldn't believe Bill's addiction was financed so readily by the Government; he reached the $240 thresh hold in a few weeks then the Government paid for his drugs the remainder of the year. Mixing the cocktail of drugs with his daily intake of alcohol, lots of it, I figured surely his brain was affected and maybe that accounted for his outrageous and unrealistic demands and expectations.

I had lost patience with him, and respect. I was relieved he wasn't my responsibility anymore. Let him be responsible for himself. Maybe he would come to realise how much I did for him. I wondered how the 'new lady' he expected to install in my place would cope? I couldn't help but think of Bill's quote "You reap what you sew."

Settlement of assets and finances had to be agreed on; this is where we disagreed, in fact we had many heated arguments. I knew Bill would be scheming something, but now he would have to execute the schemes himself. I was no longer obliged to follow his orders.

Bill now believed he wouldn't live to see his 60th birthday, he was nearing fifty and passed the age he originally thought he'd die.

He often told me "I am determined to make sure my kids get their rightful inheritance and not some other snoozer who you hitch up with."

Bill insisted we owed it to the kids to give them a business and a property each; he had it worked out.  
The Kensington property and factory he said had to go to Mark  
The Ballarat property and Academy to Le-Anne.  
The Norwood property to Shane.  
Bill would retain the family home and live there with the children.  
I would live upstairs at the Norwood Academy and run that as I had previously been doing.  
I didn't agree nor did either of our solicitors.

I thought we should divide our assets up between the two of us then individually decide what we should do with our halves. I wasn't in favor of giving property to our children at such a young age with the probable chance of them losing it if their future relationships broke down, as was happening all around us. I must have inherited some of mum's foresight.

Bill emphatically told me that whatever future legacies we inherited from our parents would be our own we wouldn't have a claim on each other's inheritance. I expected this to be the norm and was surprised he even brought it up, although maybe he was worried I may lay claim because although Poppa (Bill's step father) had never had spare cash he owned his home freehold on a valuable block not far from Adelaide CBD. We supported Poppa after he retired, he found it difficult to live on the meager pension of that era, although he owned his home outright and was asset rich he was cash poor, just owning a home in those days was financially draining with the aged pension the only income.

Eventually after years budgeting Poppa's home would be sold for an amount he could never have comprehended and too late for him to benefit from the excessive profits. Bill knew this and was relying on this windfall to be solely his.

My mum on the other hand had sold her home when she moved back to Ceduna Retirement Village and transferred the second family farm (Murt's) to Roger and Angie. The proceeds from her home dwindled to nothing as the cost of living skyrocketed. Bill had benefitted from my inheritance over the years when dad bought us our first home, then the one next door in 1962, then the second mortgage on our Hectorville home in 1969, there would be no more inheritance for me: the pot was bare. Bill had reaped the benefits of my inheritance, and now he expected me to turn the properties over the children.  
Wrong Bill Hoad!

Mark was supporting his father especially since the rift over Sue and her mother, I guess he owed Bill an allegiance in return for the support Bill gave him over me at that time. Sadly Mark was still treating me with the same disdain and nastiness as his father, this stance towards me made me really sad, but I had to get on with trying to stay sane through this unsettling time.

I thank my lucky stars or Guardian Angel for the support of many friends, especially my new male friends whose free professional advice and support I could not have gotten through this traumatic life change without.

As time went on Bill and I agreed to disagree and things became really nasty. Bill became vicious with me when I wouldn't accept the settlement of the properties to the children. I stood my ground and demanded my half share. I felt entitled to half our properties besides I had to plan a future for myself. Mark sided even more so with Bill.

We attended a family court mediation session together. I refused to agree with Bill's unrealistic terms of dividing all our assets between the children. I knew I was being bold to dare disagree with Bill but I also realised I wasn't obliged to 'obey' him anymore.  
I was determined I had to stand my ground.

No way was I prepared to walk away from our little empire which had not only consumed my entire inheritance but much blood sweat and tears. I had to provide and make a life for myself I had to plan my future.

I was surely entitled to more than Bill expected me to accept.

I definitely didn't agree to giving the children a property each at such a young age and nor did the solicitors including Bills.

Bill was so furious with me, as we walked out of mediation he cornered me in an isolated hallway of the courtrooms and viciously threatened me.

"I'll break you yet. I'LL BREAK YOU YET."

This was a very miserable time for me. I was exhausted physically and mentally, but I was absolutely determined Bill wouldn't break me. Squash was my salvation, it was totally unrelated to work and it gave me an opportunity to exert my frustrations by bashing the ball as hard as I possibly could, it was the best therapy for me, also the support I received from the many friends I had made through squash was invaluable.

I remember feeling at the end of my tether having lunch at a local restaurant with Maria the owner of the squash courts, Sevvy, Joy and Sandy, all very good squash friends, where I poured out my woes. I ruined this lunch for them, usually our lunches were carefree and full of fun and laughter but my stress put the damper on it. I will always remember the words Sandy said to me. "Eunice! You are a survivor. You will pull through this."

The other girls confirmed Sandy's words which had a profound effect on me. I thought if they believed I would survive, then surely I would, though at the time I wasn't at all sure.

A new season of squash was starting. I had resigned from playing competition this season I felt I had too much on my plate, besides I didn't have any spare energy for competitions.

At practice one Saturday Maria firmly announced "Eunice, you are playing comps (competition) Tuesday nights."

"No! I can't play this season."

"We need you to play. I have you in a team with Sevvy, Matilda and Mandy."

"Okay."

I knew these girls would be a heap of fun. They were, we had heaps of fun and grew into a united team. There were only four in a team so with even numbers every point literally counted. We egged each other on we supported each other through every stroke. We partied long and hard after the matches finished. We won the Pennant that season. We were very proud. I played my best squash ever; I worked out all my frustrations on the court. I am forever grateful to Maria for bullying me into this team, she had the foresight to realise it was the best thing for me at that time.

My recipe for not worrying was to keep occupied. I must get out and about. My business friends were of great comfort to me but the scenario had changed, they still trusted me but my needs had changed. I was now free to do what I liked without secrecy or discretion; I wasn't about to wait around for married men to call when they got an opportunity.

I attended all acceptable venues suitable for singles, and joined specific singles organisations I thought were appropriate for me. I had no desire to attend the singles group Bill had offered me his membership of; anyway he was probably attending himself again now.

I was surprised to find how much stigma there is placed on single people, especially ladies. For goodness sake, just because one is separated from their husband and become 'single again' they are still the same person as they were when married and 'socially acceptable'. But no: that was definitely not the public perception of 'single again' women, in the eighties they (we) were virtually tainted, and an outcast; this came as a huge shock to me. I didn't feel a less worthy person because I separated from my husband but this was the public perception which infuriated me.

I loved wining and dining. There was a popular organisation that catered for single people to dine out in groups at better restaurants. I loved this concept, it wasn't simply a 'meat market' it was an enjoyable evening over dinner with other likeminded people.

I attended as many of these dinners as I could. I made a lot of new friends, mainly women, who like myself were businesswomen and single again. The problem for me with this group was the dinners were only held during the week.

Saturday nights were particularly lonely for me, and as it turned out for most of the other business singles. If only there was something similar on weekends...

Why don't I start a group and provide outings that suit me? I'm sure it will fill a void for many other singles as well?

I decided to do it. I would start a dining group specifically on Saturday nights. I thought about it, I planned it. I rang Le-Anne in Ballarat to get her thoughts she was enthusiastic and encouraging.

I decided to call myself Alana Lee for the purposes of this group and keep my real identity secret. I didn't want Bill to know I was planning to start such a group, I felt more comfortable while he thought I wasn't coping very well with our separation. It was getting extremely hard for me to pretend to be forlorn when I was so happy to be free.

Alana Lee put a little ad in the advertiser offering dinners for business single folks on Saturday nights. The first dinner was eventful and uneventful. There was one guy who was obviously a con man and thief who took advantage of 'a new gal on the block'.

Although I was very happy with the success of my first function, the thief could have ruined it except for Kevin an astute single businessman who regularly attended singles functions, he knew of this thief and uncovered his dishonesty.

I was worried about going home alone this night because the thief knew where I lived. Kevin offered to come home with me and I was grateful, just as well because the thief came to my front door, we didn't answer the door so he stole a hanging pot plant. I could not believe the audacity of this person as we clearly saw him walk away with the plant.

A few days later I saw this thief loading his old, battered car with cartons, without thinking I walked right up and confronted him about his thievery. I caught him unawares he was taken aback and made as hasty a retreat as he could saying he was leaving the state. Good, he was never seen or heard of again.

Nevertheless I was happy with the success of Alana Lee's first function. The memberships grew; I was right in supposing Saturday night was the favored night singles looked for company and what better way to spend it than over a nice meal in a nice restaurant with the added bonus of meeting likeminded folks. Many new friendships were formed and yes some romances. I enjoyed hostessing the evenings and meeting the folks who were all in the same situation I was, once in a solid successful marriage and now 'single again' for whatever reasons.

One of my business friends helped me set up a program on my idle Commodore 64 computer which needed to be attached to my television for a screen once the basic program was set up. I felt very with it and a 'trend setter' even though I thought it would be much easier and quicker to manually do my work as I always had. Never mind it looked professional and an apt addition to my growing business.

This our first Xmas as a separated family was a sad time. Our beach house was sold so this year I looked for a holiday house to rent over the holidays. I found a lovely three bedroom, two bathroom home on the Esplanade at Seaford. I invited all the family for Xmas day including Bill because I actually felt sorry for him; and for dinner I invited special single friends from the dining groups who shared the costs.

+Bill was taken aback when he saw the lovely home I was enjoying, especially as his living standards had deteriorated dramatically without me around to 'make' it all happen.

"What is this costing you?" he hissed at me.

He was even more taken aback when Alana Lee's friends arrived for dinner in their Volvo's, Mercedes etc. I was a bit concerned what he was thinking. Had I made a mistake inviting him?

'Too bad I thought, I am on my own now, I can do what I like. I don't have to answer to him anymore.'

My forty sixth birthday. Le-Anne rang from Ballarat.

"Happy Birthday Mum! How old are you this year?"

"I've aged a few years since my last birthday I'm forty-one this year."  
She giggled. I had been thirty-nine for many years. I refused to be forty, but I allowed the trauma of the separation to have taken a two-year toll on me, though I was feeling fit and well.

One Sunday morning after weeks of hard work I felt I finally had my new home set up to my satisfaction, I was proud of it. This Sunday after a successful Alana Lee dinner the night before I felt I deserved a day off to go to Maslin Beach and relax, it had been a while since I had been there and I knew Fleur would be wondering about my absence from home and lack of beach outings. Yes I would treat us both to a relaxing day at our favorite beach.

I desperately missed Fleur's company in my new home but it would not have been fair on her living indoors with no safe yard to escape to. I was so looking forward to our day at the beach. As I collected her from Hectorville I called out to Bill to let him know I was taking her. I noted he had a strange look on his face.

We had a lovely relaxing day. I was feeling refreshed and looking forward to doing something exciting in the evening.

On the way home I drove past the Stag Hotel on East Terrace in Adelaide's East End to see if any action was happening. I knew a jazz band was playing upstairs, sure enough many of Alana Lee members spotted me from the balcony (I was easy to spot donned in bathers in my ZX with the targa top off.)

"I'll be back after I've been home and changed." I called up to them from the open car.

I raced home.

I unlocked and opened the door to...............

Disaster!

My just completed newly decorated home was trashed. All the locked doors of the hallway had been smashed in with a hammer from the Academy downstairs, all the furniture in each room was upended, the smaller pieces thrown with force into the opposite walls, all the mirrors on the walls and glass in the china cabinets had been smashed, the television screen was smashed obviously with a hammer, there were hammer marks indented in the carved furniture. Only a few selected pieces escaped vandalism, even stuff I stored between big cupboards and the wall was pulled out.

Nothing was stolen except my leather bag a student had made for me which I used for collecting the fees from the students. I had banked all the money and it only contained loose change.

Fortunately Julianne's art room, though the door was smashed in, nothing was touched. The offending hammer from the academy was left leaning neatly up against the wall amongst the disarray and devastation.

I ran outside scared and distraught.

What do I do?  
I ran into my neighbors, an elderly couple living next door and asked them if they had seen anything untoward?

"Yes. We saw HOAD 01 there this morning."

The penny clicked. Bill's Daimler's number plate was HOAD 01.

That accounted for why the building hadn't been broken into, Bill had keys to get into the building but not the rooms which were now my home. The locked rooms that Bill didn't have keys for were the only doors that were smashed and splintered with a hammer to get into. It also accounted for Bill's strange look that morning. I knew I shouldn't have let him see how well I was coping.

How glad was I that I wasn't home?

Of course; now I could see it as clear as day, only the doors Bill didn't have keys for were smashed, the stuff I stored in the narrow space between the cupboards and the walls were pulled out because this was where we hid cash at Hectorville. Everything that Bill had made was untouched, everything I had made was trashed including personal possessions I had bought for my new home. Glass cabinets, mirrors, television, computer, had all been smashed with a hammer, there were hammer indents everywhere, every hammer indent said clearly to me 'Bill was here!'

He was after money, he obviously hadn't organised the finances of his businesses. Why was I not surprised?

I knew he would explode if he thought I was coping okay but I hadn't expected him to go to such extremes, he was sicker than I thought.

There was one saving grace. The only thing he didn't up end was a large wallpaper covered kerosene box of shoes on the floor of the built-in robe he built for me, under that box I had stashed eight $100 notes from Alana Lee's dinner the previous night. When I lifted the box the lovely $100 notes were all smiling up at me. How lucky was I.

"Serve you right Bill Hoad; you didn't deserve them anyway."

I rang the boys. I rang Pam, they came. Pam took one look and went home, it was too much for her. The boys helped me clear away the broken glass and mirrors. Mark took the recoverable furniture to the factory to repair. Le-Anne was in Ballarat. Lucky her!

Bill's threats very nearly came true: this vandalism very nearly did break me. I was totally exhausted from weeks of renovating and settling in and now I was back to square one. I had to start all over again. I felt completely spent.

I called the police. I told them I knew who the culprit was. I didn't tell them who. They said I could lay charges, but it meant attending court and pursuing a lengthy legal system, they gave me a few days to think about it. I did.

I realised if I lay charges on Bill the Insurance Company wouldn't pay. They don't pay for damage the owner does to their property. Bill and I were still joint owners the policy was in both our names. It would be best if I simply claimed the insurance which was quite considerable. I did.

I was expecting the insurance cheque any day when it suddenly dawned on me the cheque made out to W.T & E.W. Hoad would be sent to the address of all our correspondence 4 Henry St Hectorville. I rang the Insurance Company. Yes it had been posted yesterday. It would be delivered today. It was noon, the postman delivered mail in the mornings. I must get to Hectorville immediately and collect the mail before Bill did.

I hoped he still kept the same habits, not getting up until well after midday. He obviously hadn't changed his habits there was no sign of life. I quickly collected the letter out of the letterbox and off I raced. How lucky was that, he was so close to receiving an unexpected windfall, one he didn't deserve.

Bill got off scot free from this destructive rage, he convinced the kids it wasn't him, by the time they confronted him many hours later he was calm and serene again, back to his normal staid stoic self, which was common to the cycle of his rages. I realised my generosity in asking him to spend Xmas day with us had shown him I was coping very well, way better than him.

I knew I had to pretend I wasn't coping on my own or he would retaliate, but I thought enough time had passed when I asked him to spend Xmas day with us. Out of the goodness of my heart I invited him rather than leave him to spend Xmas day alone. I wouldn't be inviting him again.

Mark repaired most of the furniture at the factory but never admitted Bill was the perpetrator.

"It is probably some of those people from your dining group." he suggested.

"It's someone who knows what is mine and what is Bill's, and someone who has a key to the building, and someone who doesn't have keys to my rooms."

As it happened, the week after the break in Bill and I both had a pre-arranged appointment together with our solicitors to discuss settlement. My solicitor, a squash player friend advised me not to lay charges over the break in and devastation, he was keener to sort out settlement at this appointment.

The break in was discussed, Bill's solicitor asked if Bill needed to go to the Academy at all?

"No. He hasn't done anything constructive there for months, he only comes to take apparatus for Ballarat and he has all that now."

Bill agreed and said with the solicitors as witnesses.

"If it puts her mind at rest I won't go to the Academy again."  
The solicitors drew up the papers and Bill signed it in front of us then and there. I had an intricate alarm system installed, upstairs and downstairs. I now had plenty of warning if anyone was in or around the property, especially downstairs if I was upstairs. Bill never set foot in that property (the Academy and also my home) again... now; back to the original reason for this meeting with our solicitors; sorting out settlement.

Bill still insisted we had to give a property to each of the children. I absolutely wouldn't agree I felt I had contributed far more to our partnership than to walk away with nothing. I didn't think it appropriate to give the children a property each, and both our solicitors agreed with me, besides I could see huge problems in the future with our kids partners and possible separations.

Bill didn't believe he had a future, he was still convinced he would die in his fifties, he told me many times he would make sure his kids received their rightful inheritance and not some other snoozer, he told me I would have to learn to live on what the children paid me each month as a token for the properties given to them.

I didn't want to be dependent on the children paying me money, how ridiculous anyway. I wanted to be free to look after my own affairs.

I was adamant I should be entitled to half of our assets. I also wanted to be free of the complex cobweb of Bill's scheming.

I definitely wanted to be totally devoid of any influence Bill had over me.

I wanted to settle with half of what we owned which was slowly diminishing as the spending increased.

I had no qualms about expecting half of what was left of our assets which had all stemmed from my father's inheritance.

Dad's generosity started us off with two freehold properties and the balance of our Hectorville home over the bank loan.

I was pleasantly surprised when Bill's solicitor said to him "Leave the children out of this, they will be OK."

Bill sacked that solicitor.

Nothing was settled that day. As my solicitor and I were walking back to our car we noticed Bill's Daimler Sovereign had a flat tyre. Poetic justice we both thought. You reap what you sew.

Bill was furious with his solicitor; he convinced the children to pay him the money they were paying to me to cover the loans. They would now pay the money directly to Bill for him to live on; this meant I had the full responsibility of paying off the hefty loan on the Norwood property which we embarked on to buy the Ballarat property as well as the extra cash Bill insisted we borrow at the time.

"He had to have something to live on." Mark said.  
This confirmed to me that Bill was after money when he broke in and vandalised my home.

It was now my responsibility to not only pay all the running costs of every business but also pay the loans as well. I was near breaking point... BUT... I won't!

I was busy sewing one day when I heard someone come in the front door and go into the office. As I walked into the office to greet the newcomer I met this well-dressed man walking out looking agitated and in a hurry, my senses were alerted. I walked behind my desk to check my handbag, it was there but my purse was gone. OMG! It doesn't rain but it pours. I thought of ringing the police.

"No damn it" I thought "that's wasting good time."

I saw the gent walking into the car park of the supermarket opposite. I got in my car and sped across the road as he was attempting to drive out. I pulled up right in front of him. He could go no-where. He jumped out of his car and attempted to run, but I jumped out as well and stood my ground firmly in front of him.

"Hand over my purse and you will hear no more of this." I heard my voice of authority say to him as I looked him in the eye.

He dived into the front of his trousers, pulled my purse out (it must have been in his underpants... yuck) threw it at me and ran.

Good! Mission accomplished. I was glad I didn't stop to ring the police. I probably wouldn't have got my purse back intact with all credit cards, I D's etc.

Mum had paid my fare to fly to Pt Lincoln this Australia day Tunarama weekend; we would both stay with Mrs. Oats. Never had I been more in need of my mother after the harrowing experience of the break-in and the aftermath of cleaning up, she met me at the airport and I fell into her arms and bawled and bawled. Mum couldn't believe how shaken up I was. I didn't want to go anywhere. I didn't want to talk to anyone. I just wanted to sleep, which I did.

I flew back to Adelaide slightly revived having been nurtured and fed properly. I hadn't been eating properly since I left home. I thought it great not having to regularly cook meals for the family. I found it hard to adjust to shopping and cooking for one, it was so strange for me, but I thought it would be a good chance for me to lose weight. I did! Probably too much: I was weak through lack of nourishment.

Returning back to the chaos after the few days of total rest I felt more able to face the restoration job ahead of me. It took a few weeks to restore my new home back to its former glory.

I felt safe now with the alarm system installed and Bill banned from the property. I knew he wouldn't bother me again because he didn't know how the alarm worked, nor did Mark who wouldn't come in unless he asked if the alarm was de-activated. Mark was bitter because Bill was banned from my place and I wasn't banned from his.

"I haven't broken into any of his properties and trashed them. I'm not a threat."

Divorce was easy, we both wanted a divorce, though I don't think Bill was aware I wanted one even more than he did. I gave my solicitor instructions to file for divorce and a cheque of $240 the cost of a divorce at that time. I simply signed a few papers, and hey presto a few weeks later my solicitor presents me with my Decree Nisi (proof of divorce) and to my surprise the very same cheque I had written of $240.

My clever solicitor had accepted Bill's application for a divorce. Bill was so keen to be rid of me he paid for the divorce. I chuckled at that little win. It was the quickest positive reaction I had ever seen from Bill.

Settlement was a prolonged process, we couldn't agree. I knew Bill would be scheming something. I offered two solutions of how to divide the properties and told him to take his pick of the one he wanted. No he wouldn't accept either. He was intent on giving the children most of our assets insisting "I don't want some other snoozer getting what rightfully belongs to my kids."

I stuck to my guns and demanded half our assets.

Bill now had a new solicitor. Our solicitors conferred.

"He does procrastinate so." Bill's solicitor said to mine.

This period of time was nasty. Bill made life as unpleasant as he possibly could, he emphatically dictated to me how settlement was to be... with the promise of assets going to the children and of course they naturally supported him. I couldn't blame them, but I wasn't about to agree to such an unrealistic settlement.

I felt justified in expecting half our assets. I even thought I should be entitled to more than half because my complete inheritance had been invested in these assets, and in recent years frittered away with luxury 'boy toys' on cars and in the factory.

Bill's argument against me being eligible for even a half share was that I wouldn't have got any inheritance if I hadn't married him.

My mother said she expected me to get half of the assets, no more, no less. I would have been happy with half but Bill refused to agree.

My solicitor said we should each get an even half and when we agreed on who got what he would execute it.

I got to the stage of refusing to discuss it with Bill, my final words after each discussion which inevitably ended in a heated stalemate "We'll see what the courts say."

I was free of Bill's demands and threats, but the settlement was a huge worry, it took the pleasure and flippancy out of my single life. I was exhausted from renovating, and re renovating, I was running the Academy which I enjoyed doing, I loved the daily company of the students and Alana Lee's social gatherings, but the bitterness within the family over settlement was taking its toll.

I was sad and lonely especially winter time on Sundays so it was good, Poppa as he had been doing for years visited Hectorville every Sunday, now he called in to me at Norwood as well. One Sunday Poppa came to visit me straight from Hectorville, he was very upset.

Poppa had let himself into Bill's home as he had been doing every Sunday for years, and was appalled to find Bill and a lady in bed together. Poppa just couldn't comprehend how Bill could be so inconsiderate to be found in bed with a lady when Bill should have expected a visit from him on this day.

I was not surprised, it was what I would expect of Bill but I was so sorry for Poppa to have experienced this unpleasant happening. Poppa wouldn't go there again. The kids were never there anyway these days.

I regularly arranged a meal at my place for Poppa to see his grandchildren whom he absolutely adored and lived for. Poor Poppa I think our marriage breakdown was a bitter disappointment to him. I made the effort to visit him regularly, we both enjoyed these visits. I always invited him when I had the family around for a meal.

Mum made a trip to Adelaide to see what was happening. I was worried how she would take our separation and was surprised she accepted it unconditionally. I discovered older people handle upsets and life experiences better as they get older.

I was disgusted with Bill for trying to get mum on side by telling her I had a boyfriend, he had never asked me, he had often wrongly accused me, he was trying to alienate mum from me. Mum questioned me. I truthfully said "NO!"

I didn't have a boyfriend, Bill was grappling at straws, he grappled the wrong one. I never had a boyfriend in the context Bill suggested.

My brother Roger also supported me expressing I should be entitled to half our assets. My cousins came out of the woodwork with moral support, some I hadn't seen for many years. I was so humbled by everyone's concerns and genuine caring support of me.

This period of time was so distressing, even so I loved living and working in the same premises, it saved me heaps of time.

I soon realised I had no reprieve from the businesses especially as the Academy was open from 9am to 10.30 pm week days and Saturday mornings, so for a reprieve I often booked into the Hilton Hotel at day rates from 10am to 5pm where I totally relaxed and enjoyed special me time. If I didn't invite a 'friend' I utilised the gym sauna and spa where I totally relaxed and orgasmed in the spa. I could not function efficiently without my body orgasmicly relaxed.

Mark was becoming more and more distant with me. Bill assumed control of the situation and me, I let him think he was controlling me and accepted the unpleasantness with fortitude, knowing it was in my best interest to do so.

I knew Bill would continue to do his utmost to destroy my comfortable independence if he thought I was doing okay, even though he was banned from the Norwood premises he managed to make me very uncomfortable with threats and innuendos.

I held onto the words Sandy had said. "Eunice you are a survivor. You will pull through this."

I firmly believed 'Out of all bad something good will come from it.'

I clung to the thought of 'something good' happening. I thought I could expect something really good because I had been through heaps of really bad.

# Chapter 31

## Aunty Ethel

Not one to sit and mope, when I felt morbid I visited people who I knew would appreciate a visit. Elderly people who lived alone and sick people in hospital so appreciated a visit, they were heaps worse off than me; I found my visits not only cheered them it cheered me as well and made me feel worthwhile.

Mum told me Aunty Ethel was in Glenside Hospital, a hospital for the mentally ill. Aunty Ethel was mum's brother Will's widow, they had led an introverted quite life, pretty much hermit style since losing Colin their only child in a tragic truck accident when he was fifteen years old which Uncle had unfairly blamed Aunty for.

Aunty Ethel now had her own room at the Salvation Army multi storey home in Light Square in Adelaide. I had visited her there with mum, she was very happy there. Occasionally Aunty needed to be hospitalised and was admitted to Glenside, in mum's words "she'd go funny".

On mum's instruction I went to visit Aunty. What an appalling place it was. I was cautiously escorted through many security doors in this dreary establishment; we passed by many sad cases of desperate forlorn looking patients.

I didn't recognise Aunty she had been there a few weeks and by all accounts was left there to die. The Salvation Army had admitted her, cleared her room out at the home and some-one else now lived in it. They had locked aunty away in this appallingly depressing establishment. I was very cross and more so when the Salvo's told me she would never be well enough to return to her home. If she stayed in this establishment she most certainly wouldn't.

I was appalled at Aunties condition she had no glasses, no teeth, no hearing aid, no personal belongings and no hope. She couldn't see hear or eat she was going downhill very fast. Who could possibly survive under these circumstances? I stamped my feet and made it be known this treatment was totally unacceptable.

It took me some time to gain Auntie's trust she was a very frightened frail old lady. My tantrum over the state of Aunty didn't go unnoticed; a government welfare lady rang me and said she would look for Auntie's belongings and more suitable accommodation.

A bed in a private nursing home on Hackney Road quite near Norwood became available, some-one had died and Aunty was offered this room. It was a lovely private room in a home for the elderly I thought Aunty would be happy to spend the remainder of her days here being properly cared for with love.

I got Aunty out of the Glenside hell hole, none of her personal stuff could be found including her valuable engagement ring, though a thin copper band which I am positive wouldn't have been her original wedding ring was on her wedding ring finger.

Aunty loved her new home. I arranged new glasses, hearing aids and teeth. I bought her new clothes, soon she could eat see and hear again, she totally revived and could easily have returned to her room at Salvation Army. TOO LATE!

It was an absolute miracle to see aunty respond to love and care, she was loved by the staff at the home, she was such a sweetie. I felt privileged to have the opportunity to befriend her and understand her and gain her trust. I think she forgot I was her 'sister in laws' daughter because she didn't speak highly of Ivy Freemen (my mother) "she was so bossy and everything had to be done her way."

Although aunty had seven siblings only one sister was still alive though old and frail and couldn't have helped aunty, she was so grateful for what I did. I felt responsible for aunty and helping her was good for me too, especially the positive results I achieved; it proved to me I wasn't as worthless as Bill convinced me I was and it helped deviate my thoughts away from the nastiness looming around settlement of our assets.

Aunty had made the Salvation Army executives and beneficiary of her will. She was not one bit happy how they put her in Glenside left her there and cleared her room out and installed someone else in it. Auntie's total asset was a bank account of $5000, she wanted me to take charge of it; she also wanted to change her will. I wouldn't let her leave all the responsibility and funds to me I insisted her sister should be the beneficiary; everything I did for aunty I did with her sister's approval utilising auntie's money to buy all necessities to make her comfortable.

I suggested to Aunty she purchase a pre-paid funeral plan, she agreed. This was a great idea because when the inevitable happened everything was in place, even if I were away all would be taken care of.

Interest rates were very high I suggested to aunty we invested $5000 at 16% in Term Deposits at her bank. Aunty had no conception or even interest in her money, she trusted me implicitly. This bank account grew, her sister was in awe; I made sure I always kept her informed.

Auntie's attitude to her money made me realise how easy it is for older people to be swindled, she simply had no concept or interest in her money and I suspect this would be the case for many elderly. I was only dealing with a small amount, but even if it had been millions of dollars I'm sure auntie's attitude would have been the same.

As I am 'advancing in years' I am understanding how little wealth means to the elderly especially to those who are too ill or incapacitated to enjoy life's pleasures, or any elderly person because they (we) are too tired to partake in most activities and happy to stay in the safe haven of home.

A word of advice to the younger and healthy... don't save up for your old age! Do it now!

Aunty lived happily in this home for about five years, it was a pleasure to visit her, until she started complaining about a man frightening her and coming into her room at night. The only man at the home was the owner, though he didn't live there I had often seen him there; she was so scared of 'the man' she made herself ill. When I visited her she desperately clung to me begging me to take her home with me, begging me to take her away from there and that awful man. I had to force her away from me to make my escape, she wouldn't listen to reason; I felt really bad. Maybe she was 'going funny' again?

Aunty got worse, she became more frightened, suspicious, and violent, she continually complained about the man coming into her room. We thought she may have had a stroke but tests revealed she hadn't, the tests showed there was nothing wrong with her.

Why had my quiet loveable aunty suddenly deteriorated so, changing into this violent lady raving about an imaginary man? She was taken out of her lovely private room and put in a dreary ward with three other elderly demented ladies.

"Why?" I questioned and was informed she was too ill to occupy a room on her own. She had become continually agitated and uncontrollably upset especially when she saw the owner of the home, so much so she was sedated.

I was at my wits end how to handle her now, she rejected me. I felt really bad. I just had to leave her be. I had no concept of what caused her demise. It was somewhat of a relief when I received the phone call from Matron to say she had peacefully passed way. She was at last at peace. Matron asked if I wanted to go and say goodbye to her, I declined even though Matron assured me "she looks so peaceful lying there with a rose in her hand."

I don't handle dead people very well. I couldn't bring myself to go and see her. I thought I had done the best I could for her when she was alive, in fact I brought her back from the dead and assured her of a quality life for most of her final days for which she was grateful. Aunty was very happy until the last few weeks; these last few weeks really saddened me and I felt so helpless.

The pre-arranged funeral was the best thing, there was no stress at all; it was handled with expert professionalism though attended only by auntie's sister, the nursing home matron, myself and John (the man who you will later read about). I was saddened to think some-one could live a life for eighty plus years without making friends, even descendants of her large family didn't bother to attend, nor representatives from Salvation Army who she had served for thirty odd years.

I was able to quickly settle auntie's affairs. Public Trustee with who she had her will didn't want to know about it; $5,000 wasn't worth them getting involved they left it entirely in my hands. Auntie's sister was so grateful I did it all, and pleasantly surprised when I gave her a handsome cheque.

Auntie's death affected me in a strange way. I grieved. I couldn't understand why I grieved so. It wasn't so sad she had died; she was near the end of her life and she had lost her will to live, she was at peace now. I had her ashes buried in the grave at Ceduna with Uncle Will and Colin, even though Aunty said she didn't care where they went.

I was very upset. I cried a lot, for seemingly no reason at all. It was a few years later when studying to become a Lifeline Telephone counselor and learned about grief that I understood my feelings at the time of aunties death. I hadn't grieved over the ending of my marriage. I had been so determined to be happy and keep myself busy which I did, with gusto. Auntie's death triggered off the necessary grieving process I hadn't allowed myself to accept at the time of my marriage breakdown.

A few months after Aunties death the newly appointed matron approached me with alarming statistics about the management of this nursing home. The gentleman owner was suspected of fiddling the books and the resident's pensions. I had thought something wasn't right when aunty was there, but I didn't think I was in a position to ask questions. I wasn't familiar with the administration of such a complex. Matron asked me if I would be willing to go through aunties payments which was all of her pension in order to prove fraud and take this man to court.

I wasn't willing, I had made Aunties last few years some of the happiest she had known, I didn't feel up to participating in a fraud case in court. I declined without reservation.

Many years later it was made public that emotional and sexual assault of the elderly was not an uncommon occurrence in nursing homes. I was horrified. My thoughts went back to aunty and how terrified she was of "a man, that man" who came into her room at night; she was so scared she became very ill though tests showed there was nothing wrong with her. Aunty deteriorated to her eventual death after her accusations of "the man coming onto my room at night" which I thought she was imagining. I now wondered?

Oh if only at that time I had the slightest hint that this despicable crime was more common than I could possibly comprehend I would have sought justice. My poor darling Aunty: I let you down I am SO Sorry.

# Chapter 32

## Single Again

Becoming 'single again' was a huge shock for me, even though I looked forward to leaving Bill along with the arguments and the stress, the actuality of being alone and realising that now I was totally responsible for my future sent a wave of panic through me... for about two minutes.

I set about planning my future. One thing I was certain of, I was not going to marry again and commit myself to 'obey' another man. I had become too independent. I didn't need to marry for security. I was confident I would manage on what-ever settlement Bill and I agreed on. I had always adapted to what-ever challenges I was confronted with.

I was sure I could face any future challenges more efficiently on my own without having to consider any-one else and just as well. Bill had convinced me I was destined to live the rest of my life alone "No-one else could ever put up with you."

Okay I would spend the rest of my life living alone but I was certain I wouldn't be lonely. I would damned well make sure I wasn't lonely.

Now I was single and free to do what-ever I pleased; I led a demure life. I didn't crave for excitement and 'extras' in my life. I was too busy getting settled, though I did need sexual satisfaction, which was readily available from my special friends. I never rang them, I didn't have to, they rang me often and I would choose if I needed their company depending on my needs at the time... be it sexual or professional.

One of these friends now separated and living at Norwood just a short walk away rang me one morning at dawn "Listen! It's daft! You one end of the street, me at the other, each masturbating, get your arse over here and let's get our act together."

I dutifully got out of bed and jogged to his place, as I passed the elderly couple next door sitting on their verandah I noted their approving smile and wave, they obviously thought I was keeping fit doing an early morning jog. I wondered did they notice the extra zing in my step as I jogged home?

I treasured the convenience and friendship of this man and I'm sure he did as well, it provided us both with mutual sexual satisfaction. One day I saw him in the supermarket, well I wasn't sure it was him I had never seen him dressed. I cautiously and curiously approached him; it was strange meeting there in the supermarket I felt as if we were total strangers with absolutely nothing in common... well certainly not out of bed. We continued enjoying our special convenient relationship, satisfying each other's needs without any other communications or commitments whatsoever.

I enjoyed the diversity of my many 'extra' friends. They were a great solace to me, even the ones living interstate who regularly rang for a chat. I never felt lonely, quite the opposite, I felt enriched by the many friendships, I cherished them all.

I had fallen in love (I thought) with Peter my pseudo therapist through our many conversations, but I was so frustrated with our relationship because that's all it was, conversations which though comforting and stimulating left me in such a frustrated state, so frustrated I instigated a union at a top hotel. As I was driving into the multi-level car park the power steering went on my 280ZX, my baby was a monster to steer; not a good start to this 'union': it wasn't the 'dream' I expected.

Peter it seemed expected me to be the instigator and leader of this regimented meeting, he obviously had assumed because I was an extrovert and leader in my everyday life I was also a leader with lusty frolickings during sex.

WRONG! I am a submissive lover, brought about (I think) from my pre marriage years of trying to suppress and fend off sexual advances from fumbling boys and during my marriage I never had to 'turn on' my husband because he was always ready and usually finished before I got started. I had spent more time suppressing men than arousing them. I wasn't at all adept in the art of seductions. I was totally devastated and all my illusions of 'love' for Peter dissipated.

I realised then how important a compatible lover is. I was so frustrated that while dining out with friends that night I met the owner of the restaurant a very interesting guy who was pitch black. I dared without even knowing his name accept his invitation to go home with him to spend the night. He drove me in his latest model Mercedes convertible. I felt very dare devilish and excited.

This night was a first for me in many ways including this man's insistence he wear a condom. I had never had sex with a man wearing a condom. I was a little insulted because he thought he needed to wear a condom (how head in the sand was I?) but I accepted it gracefully thinking maybe he was protecting me.

He was a businessman, very successful, very rich and black as ebony. I never saw this man again, but I was compelled to relate this escapade to Peter. Why? I'll never know. Consequently Peter was devastated and our relationship waned dramatically, he became distant maintaining he had never had a lady cheat on him so blatantly. I didn't feel I 'cheated' because our relationship was comradeship and companionship; anyway I knew I could never continue a relationship with an incompatible lover, though I did so miss our long discussions and his loyal friendship.

I flew to Pt. Lincoln again on this Australia day long weekend to meet mum, we stayed with Mrs. Oats. This year mum arranged for a cousin in law to meet me at the airport, and to 'entertain' me by driving me around showing me the sights of Pt. Lincoln.

I was wary of this cousin in law as a young child, and nothing had changed. He made clumsy overtures which repulsed me now as much as it had scared me as a kid. I in no uncertain terms firmly put him in his place. I wasn't an innocent child now and I certainly was not an easy target for unwanted innuendos just because I was single again. I didn't like the guy; never had.

I was bold enough now to tell mum of the advances he made to me and of his smuttiness that scared me as a child, she wouldn't believe me, she scoffed at me "Don't believe you. He's never done anything like that with me."

"Of course he wouldn't with you mum."  
I emphatically warned her never to put me in a one on one situation with him ever again. She didn't. I can imagine her reaction if I had told her when young of my feelings about this man. My instincts had correctly warned me to say nothing!

On the Saturday of the long weekend I waited with the crowds in the main street of Pt. Lincoln to watch the annual parade. Imagine my surprise when coming towards me was Ted (my first love and fiancé) a passenger in a vintage car. He was immaculately dressed and as handsome as he ever was, except his black curly hair was silver white, still as thick and curly as ever. I was surprised to see how well preserved and well-groomed he was. He didn't see me. I felt the need to talk to him and thank him for respecting me during my innocent teenage years.

I found his number in the local directory, mum would not have approved so I rang from a public phone box; I knew he was married so was discreet. He wanted to meet me. We met on the beach and talked and talked. I told him how I appreciated his respect of me; he agreed we weren't meant for each other, he said I'd grown way beyond him. True I had, but I remember and appreciated him as an honest kind caring person. I thanked him and wished him all the very best.

The weeklong Grand Prix for the first time was held in Adelaide in 1985; the circuit abounded Norwood, for three weeks the city and nearby locations were caught up in the frenzy of the Grand Prix causing much inconvenience especially for us locals.

The city was abuzz, like I'd never seen Adelaide. The night before the big race I thought I'd go into the city and soak up the atmosphere, after I had closed the Academy in I went. Excitement filled the air, it was infectious. I didn't want to go home. I'd go to a night club, funny now that I was free to go whenever I liked I didn't, but tonight I went to one of the two popular night spots in Light Square.

I was feeling good everyone was in a happy frame of mind. Soon I was in deep conversation with a business man from Sydney, in Adelaide specifically for the Grand Prix; we had so much in common, though he was still married. This guy was the first man I asked back to my home. I felt it was safe enough because he would return to Sydney the next week. Apart from the actual races we spent the weekend together.

He took me to a popular restaurant high in the hills overlooking the lights of Adelaide. It was so romantic. I was sorry to say goodbye to him, but he promised to keep in touch.

He did, often, by phone.

"How about dinner Saturday night?" he asked one day.

"That would be lovely. Where?"

"Lygon St in Melbourne."

"But I'm not in Melbourne."

"Nor am I. I'm in Sydney. We can meet in Melbourne."

This is exactly what we did. How exciting it was to be able do something as ridiculous as that? I love the fact I was now able to partake in spur of the minute unusual escapades which I thoroughly enjoyed.

We got together on the few occasions he was in Adelaide on business. There was never any emotional commitment, simply compatible companionship which was all I wanted and all I would allow. I know he was grateful of my independent attitude as well.

It was months before our settlement was reached. I don't know how Bill afforded to pay his solicitors, he would have spent so much time remonstrating and procrastinating incurring exorbitant costs. My solicitor (I now realise) would only talk to me when there was constructive stuff happening, he ignored me over emotional stuff, which frustrated me at the time, but I can see how it saved me many hundreds of dollars. My account was only a couple of thousand dollars, the insurance payout from Bill's vandalism more than covered it; in fact the payout was way more than my solicitor's charges. Another little win for Eunice!

Settlement was finally decided for us by the family law courts. I was told in no uncertain terms by a mediator in a private meeting in the family law courts what I could expect from the judge if our case went to court. I expect Bill to have been given the same advice in his similar private meeting with a mediator.

It was decided Bill would get the Ballarat property and business, the Kensington property and business, and the Hectorville home. I would get the Norwood property and business, although the Norwood property was now worth more than any of the others it also had a huge mortgage on it, the total amount of the cost of the Ballarat property and extra cash added to its existing mortgage.

I was handed a burdened property but I was happy to be completely separated from Bill. I knew on my own I could manage the mortgage payments; I would make it work.

Bill should have been happy he had two freehold properties and two businesses, and the family home with a minimal mortgage. I was the one with a valuable property, but with a loan Bill thought was impossible for me to maintain.

I know he believed he had a win and his promise to "break you" would eventuate because he believed I wouldn't be able to meet the mortgage payments. He had no comprehention of administration. I wasn't perturbed. I was freed from his web. I was now completely independent of him. I would make the repayments my first priority, I would not lose this property. I was totally responsible for it. I would succeed.

I was now the sole owner of the Norwood property and branch of Hoad Woodcarving Academy. I knew it's worth and potential, I also knew being solely mine I would be able to run it the way I thought it should be run without trying to accommodate Bill's demands, and most importantly without five people drawing from its coffers each with cheque books.

I was so happy settlement was finally decided. I could put a closure to that part of my life and get on with my new life running the Academy as I thought it should be run, along with Alana Lee who was becoming even more popular and productive.  
I was independent. I felt FREE.

Bill obviously wasn't happy he vehemently told me I had to give the Norwood property to Shane. Without any compunction whatsoever I took great delight in vehemently telling him

"You can't tell me what to do anymore. If you want to give property to the kids you do it with your share. Leave my share to me to decide upon. You have three properties three kids, surely your head is not that f....d that you can't work that out.

I needed a cleaner. The cleaner I had at Hectorville wouldn't travel to Norwood, she wouldn't even clean Hectorville now and I don't blame her it would have been a daunting task besides Bill expected me to pay her!!!

On recommendation from a woodcarving student I chose a young married man a good worker prepared to do any type of work but couldn't get a job. Rodney lived at Brighton a two-bus trip to Norwood. His first day found me up scaffolding in the family/sewing room hanging chocolate brown silk drapes from a hoop around the chandelier to completely cover the whole ceiling. I was creating a unique dining room. I realised this task was a two-man job. I was pleased when Rodney arrived.

"What are you like at hanging drapes?" I asked.

"Don't know I have never done it, but I'll try."

Rodney was a great help; he was keen enthusiastic and enjoyed doing something totally different. The cleaning waited until the next week.

I transformed this room into a seductive romantic dining room. I papered the walls with gold embossed chocolate brown velvet wall paper and installed fitted wall to ceiling mirrors in the alcoves either side of the original fireplace surrounded by an elaborate carved wooden mantle.

I was beginning to appreciate this property as my home, although we bought it seventeen years earlier at land value intending to demolish the building, it was now in good condition due to gradual restorations; and on prime real estate. I was proud to solely own the property and felt justified making it comfortable and spending money to do so. I needed a private deck.

Julianne had vacated her art studio room after the break in. I was pleased to have upstairs completely to myself even though I would miss the rent. I decided Julianne's room with the sink would be my kitchenette/living room. I had a deck built off this room over the car park using the window as a doorway. I loved this deck; it was sheltered private and outdoors. The rest of my backyard was a car park with no privacy. I felt very comfortable in my new home.

The roof leaked; it caused the ceiling in the upstairs hallway to collapse. The roof needed replacing; now I was solely responsible for the income from the Academy and substantial profits from Alana Lee I found myself able to save, more than I could have envisaged. I could afford to spend money on the property and was prepared to do so. I had a new roof put on and the insurance mended the caved in ceiling.

This started the ball rolling I wanted to freshen up the exterior paintwork. I started painting at ground level, painting the doors, windows and lattice trims, slowly working my way up. I was just about to my height limit on the scaffolding when a student saw me as he drove past "This is no job for a lady. I'm sending a painter around tomorrow."  
He did.

This painter was a godsend he finished the painting and recommended a craftsman who specialised in restoring heritage homes to their original state and for a ridiculously low cash price. Wow! I realised I owned a lovely heritage style home! It was a villa unique to Norwood of English design and architecture; it was well worth my while to restore it, besides I liked my premises to be well presented.

The recommended craftsman, a dedicated hard-working ethnic gentleman (I'll call him Jim because I can't remember his name) suggested he pressure spray and point the bluestone walls to remove the peeling paint thus restoring the beautiful original blue stone exterior. We came to a cash agreement and he would do the work when he had the time usually on weekends. He did the front wall. I was so impressed; the building had taken on a whole new look with the aged bluestone restored to its original glory.

Jim was a genius and I trusted him. I told him to do the whole building at his leisure whenever he had spare time. I would come home from a weekend at the Seaford beach house and find a wall restored, it was such a pleasant surprise. I'd ring and ask him how much it cost then he'd come and collect the cash. I felt so blessed to have such a dedicated person helping me.

Thank you who-ever and where ever you are, my property at 45 Gorge St Norwood was totally renovated and looking lovely displayed in its landscaped grounds. I was so proud of my restored home. Who would have thought the original old derelict home we bought with intention to bulldoze could be restored so beautifully?

My property at Norwood South Australia

I had restructured the loan on my property to one I could more easily manage. It was hard to convince the bank manager to grant me a loan. I didn't have a credit rating. My status was Mrs. Bill Hoad. Eunice Hoad didn't exist in the business world where credentials were important. Did I see RED? I gave that bank manager the wrath of my fury.

"I, Eunice Hoad have solely managed all our finances since the day I married Bill Hoad in 1962 when I unwittingly gave up my independence and become Mrs. Bill Hoad. Bill Hoad wouldn't have a clue of what I have done and what's more he's not interested in the mundane business of finances. I see now I have wrongly given him an excellent credit rating; well, be warned if you ever loan him money don't come to me when, not if, when, he defaults."  
I took a breath "Now are you going to restructure our loan solely in my name or not?"

The bank manager was taken aback, he knew I was telling the truth, he had already rang me over late payments on the Hectorville loan of which I told him wasn't my responsibility any more, it was Bill who was sole owner of that property and solely responsible for the loan which he had defaulted.

Even though I convinced that bank manager of my worth I decided it best to sever dealings with that bank. I successfully restructured a manageable loan with the bank next door. I realised it was an uphill battle for a woman in the business world. Well I wasn't going to be down trodden. I would demand equal rights, I had as much business acumen and expertise as most males and I was prepared to prove it verbally and publicly.

I relished in my freedom, free from fear of retribution from Bill, I could do as I pleased. The Academy was running smoothly, our family disruption hadn't affected the Academy, the students never knew of the traumas I had been dealing with. I loved working downstairs with them, people of substance contributing to a happy environment which I enjoyed participating in as well as Alana Lee on weekends.

I realised as I was now the 'boss' of the Academy I should learn how to carve so joined the classes and learnt woodcarving. I had purposely avoided learning to carve but now woodcarving was solely my business I felt I should know what it was about.

The students thought it a joke when I joined them in classes. My first project was a bed head. I needed a bed head for my new bedroom upstairs. I was surprised how easy carving was, and all these years I had thought it an art strictly for talented folks. Of course me being me and always vocal I loudly announced "This is easy, and I thought you lot were so clever."

Luckily they all took it in good spirits. I had a great rapport with the instructors and students.

I missed Fleur; I decided to get a budgerigar a suitable pet for my lifestyle. I chose a beautiful blue one and called it BB, beautiful blue bird. I taught it to talk it was great company. One day I came home from lunch with a friend and it was dead in the bottom of the cage.

"What will I do?" I mourned.

"Get another one." My lunch date quipped.

I wasn't thinking about getting another I was wondering what to do with poor dead BB. The aviaries I got BB from admitted they were having problems with diseases and allowed me to choose another. I chose another blue one and called it CC which succumbed to the same fate. I went back again and chose a yellow budgie which looked like a canary. I called it DD. I hoped they wouldn't continue dying and I'd run out of alphabet letters. DD lived.

My freedom allowed me to openly date whom I wanted to date and when I wanted to date. I had many one night stands simply because you have to have a one night stand to see if the first date is worth a second date, and did I have some fun. My man had to be successful, confident and above all a good lover. I discovered English gentlemen were puny lovers, too prissy and exact. Australians were mostly gruff and selfish. Italians were a bit kinky. Europeans were different. I remembered Leanne's girlfriend's mother advice when her relationship with an ethnic lad broke up. "Keep to your own kind."

I enjoyed many a dalliance; one with an Indian businessman until he moved interstate. I knew nothing about him we never spoke to each other in long conversations but he was obviously a successful business man, he drove the latest Datsun sporty Skyline, we spent time in luxurious apartments the likes of which I never knew existed in Adelaide and he made love to me for hours at a time, and suggested if I had the time we could make love continually for days, only stopping to grab a bite to eat. I believe he was quite capable but I didn't think I had the stamina let alone the time. I didn't particularly like him as a person but his love making prowess completely held me totally spellbound.

I had a friend in Sydney, a single guy who lived in an apartment overlooking Sydney Harbor, the first time we met was at Sydney airport where I had a stop-over for a couple of hours, he intended driving me around Sydney to see the sites, we never left the airport car park, we got to know each other intimately so much so we got together whenever he was in Adelaide which he endeavored to do often. He was absolutely enthralled to drive my Datsun ZX around the Grand Prix route which I practically lived on. He eventually moved to Perth where we caught up when I was in Perth.

While swimming at Maslin Beach one day, this slim tanned muscled guy boldly approached me and asked if I would have lunch with him. I liked his forthrightness so much so I didn't hesitate. "Yes." He was in a semi relationship so discretion was called for, especially when he was at Maslin Beach with his lady. I loved slim taut muscled men with an all over tan. WOW! Muscled lean men all seemed to have large penises even before erection. I deduced with no fat on the torso it allowed the penis to hang free without having to protrude through layers of fat or 'beer bellies'.

I really liked and respected one guy I met through the personal column in the Advertiser, Alvin (not his name.) (I can't remember his name anyway) was an enigma to me he was the Proprietor of a larger company and happily married, he was so kind and caring and I knew he would have been a good husband to his wife, and I respected him for it.

I enjoyed his company and tapped his brain often for business advice, which was invaluable to me, as well as his friendship. He owned many industrial properties and drove a late model luxury car with a telephone installed which depicted the height of success in those days. Mobile phones were only an idea back then and a phone in the car was rare. I enjoyed Alvin's authorative attitude and actions, he was generous with his support and advice, we met often but mostly discussed business which I appreciated and tapped his expertise and learned so much. We were never intimate; I am sure intimacy would have ruined the friendship we shared.

I enjoyed a long relationship with an official in a prominent sporting team. I enjoyed hearing the inside gossip and carry-ons of the players. This guy though much younger than me was married to his second wife, our meetings were discreet, always during the day. We'd go to lunch at a nice restaurant then make love, no... fucked somewhere usually in the car in a remote spot, we were always relaxed after a delicious meal with a bottle of good wine and didn't care where we sort mutual satisfaction.  
One day this guy informed me he was getting married again.

"What? I didn't know you had separated."

I then proceeded to give him a stern lecture on marriage.

"Why do you need to marry? You are mad. You are obviously not good marital material."  
We continued meeting occasionally. So much for marriage vows!

I was glad Larry was out of my life, he was certainly bad news, nevertheless I had not found another guy able to match his lovemaking prowess, and I had certainly shopped around. It seemed all the successful guys were accounted for and not exceptional lovers anyway. I never had the remotest yearning to enter into a serious relationship with any of the men I had met. I was positive I would spend my life as a free roaming spirit, one who no-one would want to commit to a relationship with. I realised no-one would want to live with me let alone make the commitment to marry and spend the rest of their life with me, I was impossible to live with; Bill was right.

Well I would compromise living alone by enjoying myself in the lifestyle I had developed, having to answer only to me and my conscience. I was very comfortable with my lifestyle and also very comfortable with my conscience. I now knew what staid older folks of my era meant when they said "I'd love to be a teenager again and know what I know now."  
I felt as if I was reliving my teenage years... and knowing it all!

I was so enjoying my newfound freedom and independence but it was becoming obvious to me guys found it difficult to accept an independent lady. Too bad! I wasn't going to pretend to be someone I wasn't. I had spent too many years trying to be what Bill wanted me to be, I was now enjoying simply being me and if it meant spending the rest of my life single, so be it.

The more I dated the more disillusioned I became. I never met anyone I wanted a second date with. I never met a man whom I was prepared to totally commit myself to or a guy who wanted a commitment with me. I was absolutely convinced I was destined to spend the remainder of my life single and was happy to accept being single especially with the casual friendships of the distinguished gents I had accumulated and respected.

_I have only touched the surface of this aspect of my life, maybe my dalliances in detail could be another book. It would maybe make interesting reading????? But not for the faint hearted_!

No worries I could please myself. I had discovered a powerful confidence in myself. I would make a very comfortable future for myself; I was sure I could succeed at any project I undertook. I had a unique home, a successful business, a popular persona business. I was respected by everyone, popular, and had loads of friends.

I was happy though there was a void in my life with no one special person whom I could share my good fortune and happiness with. I would have loved to be loved and cherished for 'just me' by a Mr. Right. I hadn't met Mr. Right and I didn't expect to. I was sure a Mr. Right for me didn't exist. Never mind I would turn adversity into an advantage as I found myself automatically doing when faced with seemingly impossible circumstances.

Nothing is impossible! I loved a challenge and transforming dire situations into positives for me was rewarding. I would become a devoted successful powerful businesswoman.

# Chapter 33

## Alana Lee

Alana Lee was becoming more and more popular she kept me very busy organising outings each weekend, the members now totaling near a thousand. I was happy to be kept busy on weekends and all week answering the phone as I talked in length to every new member. I was creating a busier and more fruitful social life for myself though it was more work than play which I was happy about and I was gainfully mixing with many other business singles whilst providing them with a friendly noncommittal social life, the likes of which had been lacking in Adelaide. There was no limit to the heights I could take this business. Alana Lee had proven the need for such a dining group by the enthusiasm of her members as my personal research had shown, and my intuition had proven to be right.

Adelaide surely was ready for Alana Lee's social group, we dined at better restaurants with more and more attending each week. I would expand these outings to weekend adventures and short holidays, even overseas trips. I knew there was a huge need for a business providing companionship to 'single again' folks to not only dine but holiday with, and Alana Lee was just the person to take advantage of this opportunity.

I devoted all my spare time to this dining group so much so that I had no personal life which didn't worry me I was happy being Alana Lee and hostessing successful functions. This was my personal life and it made me happy when many of the members expressed their gratitude after the functions. It was satisfying for me to see so many previously sad and lonely folks happily chatting and laughing over a lovely dinner as I busily floated around introducing folks to each other and making sure no-one felt like a wall flower.

Alana Lee had very strict rules mainly with Eunice. Alana Lee was a whole different person to the newly discovered Eunice; Alana Lee was more like the original Eunice... straight and square with strict morals she never wavered from.

Alana Lee never dated any of her members or allowed any of the guys 'special favors'; she always perceived to be the ultimate business lady while excelling in her public relations role as hostess; consequently she was seldom propositioned confirming what Bill had convinced me of.

"No-one could possibly live with you; you'll grow to be a lonely old lady."

Well he may be right about no-one wanting to live with me but I certainly wasn't lonely nor would I ever be. I had proven I had the ability to make friends, and be paid for doing so. Many of Alana Lee members including ladies had become friends, real friends. YES: without benefits.

I ran this business from the upstairs lounge/showroom/office of the Academy now my home so I couldn't promote the address; only trusted members were privy to my address therefore knowing about the woodcarving classes downstairs. I wanted to keep Alana Lee totally separate from the Academy; I didn't know what impact 'a singles group' might have on the affluent students.

I would continue to lead a double life, Eunice to the woodcarvers, and Alana Lee in my new role in the single world. I would enjoy playing both roles. It was a challenge I looked forward to. I had a separate phone line installed where I could freely talk as long as the clients wanted without fear of missing calls for the Academy. I had many inquiries: many callers were in the same position as me newly single and desperately wanting company especially on weekends.

There were also many unsavory and desperate callers which I expected and was prepared for; I was so glad I was now more worldly wise and not the ignorant innocent person I once was. I was well prepared for the desperate callers ringing all hours of the day and night blatantly expecting sex not only between men and women but women wanting women and men wanting men.

I explained to all the callers what Alana Lee was about; she catered for busy business singles who wanted to socialise and dine with other singles simply for a pleasant night out without any commitments. I stressed that was the sole purpose of Alana Lee's mission... nothing more. Of course there was a continual stream of weirdo's calling whom I quickly gave short shrift to.

I was adamant Alana Lee's name would always be associated with a respectable reputation and I spent hours and hours on the phone promoting her respectability because it was a foregone conclusion that anything associated with 'singles' was perceived as 'smutty, which made me very angry. I very smartly quelled the callers who alluded to anything other than what Alana Lee genuinely offered.

I must say I was rather surprised as to how many desperate deranged and bold folks there were out there requesting outlandish sexual demands. I was so pleased I run the business strictly through the phone without an address attached to it. I certainly couldn't have coped if people came to my door all hours of the day and night. I turned the answer machine on during the nights otherwise I'd be on the phone 24/7. Word was spreading. Alana Lee was becoming well known, respected, successful, and very popular.

The dinners held on Saturday nights proved to be a huge success, word spread, each Saturday the group got larger. Alana Lee was becoming as popular in Adelaide as I predicted. I, alias Alana Lee provided a much needed classy social environment for busy business 'single again' folks to enjoy each other's company in a non-committal gathering over dinner in popular restaurants. I felt proud that I offered the opportunity allowing so many busy singles to meet each other. I was filling a void for busy business singles as well as providing weekend activities for myself.

Many friendships were made. I was so proud of myself and lapped up the accolades that were freely given. Plus a huge bonus for me, I was making money due to so many members and large attendances at the dinners, the only overheads I had was the phone and postage for the newsletter I sent out each month.

The Academy wasn't affected; I did most of Alana Lee's administration out of general working hours. It was great I could utilise my home/office to its greatest potential. I had given up the idea of utilising the computer for my businesses. I found it was far quicker to keep a handwritten file on all members. I still used my old typewriter and photo copier with the help of one of my members to prepare the monthly newsletter which I sent by snail mail to each member. Emails weren't even a dream then.

I had over a thousand members who paid a fifty-dollar lifetime membership, I charged five dollars above the cost of each dinner, my opposition was fifty dollars membership annually and a ten dollar profit per person. I sent out a monthly newsletter with the functions, venues and costs listed.

I had a good rapport with the restauranteurs, they welcomed large groups and provided me with tempting set menus at special prices. I never included drinks at these dinners the members were responsible for their own drinks.

Alana Lee was now pretty much a full-time occupation, free time for me was non-existent but I didn't mind, word had spread quicker than I could have imagined, 'she' was very popular, her phone line ran hot. Alana patiently spent many hours day and night explaining the legitimate nature of her group to the many hopefuls who rang expecting something seedy and illicit which they expected to be on offer, many of the callers desperately wanting sex, men and women with pleas and all sorts of strange requests. By the time I firmly explained to them I only organised large groups of singles to dine out, their sexual desires had obviously been quashed because they apologised and quickly hung up.

I was continually amased and had my eyes wide opened by some of the strange phone calls and requests Alana received. It absolutely reiterated my decision to only operate from a telephone number, a post office box number for mail, and an alias.

The connotations attached to 'singles' was disgusting, it was assumed all 'single' organisations were introduction agencies. These connotations made me angry, although I provided a source for people to meet and get together I was NOT an introduction agency.

I could plainly see how an organisation such as Alana Lee could easily diverse to cater for the huge demands of emotional and sexually frustrated folk willing to pay anything for company and sex. There was a huge lucrative business out there waiting for unscrupulous persons to rip these desperate folks off.

I never wavered from my stance of running anything more than a dining group and the more it was suggested I diverse to provide more 'services' the stronger the stance I took to oppose any activity that could mar Alana Lee's good name. I was proud of 'her' reputation and determined to uphold her morals.

Connotations of 'singles' really hit home when I went to my bank to apply for a Merchant Bankers right to accept credit cards. I was told by the manager "We don't do business with Escort Agencies."

I was livid: so livid I went across the road to the opposition bank, talked to the manager who instantly accepted my application along with all my bank accounts which I immediately transferred from the offending bank. If I hadn't been so busy meeting the demands of Alana Lee I would have taken this story of rejection and the misguided conception of 'singles' to the press. It would have made headlines and been great publicity, but I knew I wouldn't be able to cope with the extra influx of inquiries and subsequent new members. I was battling to manage the many members I had.

This was the era seemingly solid marriages of the middle to upper class circles were breaking down, many people were separating; it was becoming acceptable for married couples to go their separate ways. Most of these marriages were from the days couples never lived together before they married and a woman promised to obey. As equal rights for woman were introduced it changed the rules, men were confused and woman took advantage of their newly appointed equality and freedom. I know; I talked to many of the 'single again' folks who not only wanted to attend my functions they wanted to simply talk and pour out their problems.

I was in the position of a counsellor but I had no idea how to counsel people. I knew I should study to be a counsellor, but I simply didn't have the time or the energy to spare. I plodded on facing each challenge with anticipation as it arose.

Alana Lee was growing at an alarming rate, I could never have imagined how successful it would become; mind you I worked hard at getting even number of males and females at the dinners which attributed to Alana's success. Women answered the newsletters promptly and booked their preferred functions, men on the other hand didn't, but when I rang and reminded them they willingly accepted and came happily along.

I catered for the maximum amount the restaurants could seat, usually fifty to eighty people. Although money wasn't my motivation for starting this business I found myself making huge profits with memberships and functions. I was astounded at Alana's success. I decided I'd invest some money, a new experience for me because I'd never had spare cash.

It was suggested I should invest in a high percentage 'at call' account. I did. I deposited $16,000 just a few weeks before the massive stock market crash. As soon as I realised the seriousness of 'the crash' I immediately withdrew the money now depleted to $11,000 against the advice of the company. I was happy to get out what remained and cut my losses. I can't believe I was stupid enough to invest at such a ridiculously high interest rate return. I learned if it seems too good to be true it usually is. A fool and his money are easily parted.

My favorite dinners were the ones I had at my home with selected invited members. We started with hors d'oeuvres and champagne cocktails upstairs in my grand lounge/showroom where everyone mingled and got to know each other. I then passed around a menu, the guests gave me their orders and I quietly rang the order through to the restaurant across the road, stating our time of arrival. At the allotted time I announced "Main course is being served, please adjourn to the dining room."

Everyone stared at me as I walked to the front door, ushered them outside, across the street into the restaurant where their meal was immediately served. This was how I always entertained my personal friends for dinner as well. I didn't have a kitchen, and I found Alana Lee members and Eunice's friends all enjoyed this unusual concept. I certainly enjoyed doing 'dinner parties' like this, especially large dinner parties, and the restaurateur loved it even more.

I enjoyed a good relationship with this restaurant, the proprietor/restaurateur unwittingly taught me the epitome of discretion; before Bill and I had separated I had dined there with different guys as well as Bill and the restaurateur never flinched or said anything to any of them including Bill. I privately thanked him profusely.

Inevitably the restaurant changed hands, I never had the same rapport with the new owner who applied to the council for an extended license with a night club to remain open until late morning. I shuddered at the thought of the noise and arguments extending to daylight hours, it was scary enough living and sleeping across the road when a mob of unruly drunks were behaving in a dangerous manner as they stopped at the pie cart opposite for a late night feed.

The Salvation Army hall next door to the restaurant formally opposed the application, they complained of the rubbish, urine, and graffiti they had to clean up around the hall each morning. I formally supported their opposition along with other nearby residents. We won.

We were not the flavor of the month with this new owner who soon moved on to another venue in the city where he opened a night club for singles. Great! I would enjoy going to this new club as an independent patron without having to organise anything or anyone. It would be my night off.

The first time I went to this night club many of Alana Lee's members were there, they introduced me to other folks who had heard of me and wanted to become members. Next thing I am confronted by the owner who in a superior downgrading attitude said to me

"I don't want you here soliciting my patrons."

I was not only gob smacked but furious. I vent my anger to this ethnic upstart who was so short in stature that standing firmly upright I was looking down at him "Now listen here Mate: I am not soliciting; I am here to enjoy myself, I can't help it if these folks want to talk to me. Mate I am warning you, you are dealing with no lady here"

I pointed to my nether region

"I have balls under this skirt."

Well, I have never seen anyone do such a back flip. I don't think he'd ever been confronted so by a female. I knew I had got my message well and truly to him. The next time I went to his venue he greeted me at the door with a handshake took me to the bar and asked what I would like to drink. We companionably enjoyed a beer together. I had achieved a satisfying victory.

I used the line "You're dealing with no lady here mate, I have balls under this skirt" many times when I felt I was being downgraded by a male. It never failed me.

Occasionally I held a formal dinner for very special invited members in my newly decorated dining room which comfortably fit twelve people. I used my silverware, crystal, fine linen, twelve setting Royal Albert dinner service, and Rodd silver cutlery set. These dinners had to be meticulously planned to suit the capabilities of my basic kitchen facilities and my limited culinary skills, although they were enjoyed by the members, there was too much stress and work for me without a justifiable profit. I needed volumes of people to make my efforts financially worthwhile. I hated cooking anyway. It was far easier for me to arrange to eat out especially having no kitchen and only an electric fry pan and a large convection microwave oven I had bought specifically for these dinners. Then I had to hand wash all the dishes because I never had a dishwasher, well I had one I had brought from Hectorville, but nowhere to install it. No! it was way too much work for so little return.

The members encouraged me to have a house party. I was reluctant at first but with their offer of support I decided to re-arrange downstairs making the woodcarving academy into a suitable venue.

The open classroom proved to be just that. I charged a nominal amount each and supplied everything. These evenings were not only successful but financially viable; they were so popular I held one a month at the Academy. I invited special people to assist me with hosting. Le-Anne enjoyed helping when she was in Adelaide, she was a great hostess and ambassador. I couldn't believe how much profit I was making and how successful and popular Alana Lee had become.

I was adamant Alana Lee would always be a respected group of singles who genuinely sort company and a nice meal. I continued to work hard to achieve this and the members appreciated it. In the comfortable atmosphere over these meals many friendships were made including some betrothals.

I, Alana Lee was so proud to provide the venues and functions allowing so many lonely 'singles' to meet many other 'singles'. I continued to impose the strict rule to myself of which I adhered to without exception; I treated every male member as a client. I never allowed any more than friendship with them. I didn't have to. I had fulfillment in my life from my 'extras' friends who catered for my personal needs totally independent of Alana Lee.

I made many close friends, both male and female. I respected them very much, especially Kevin and Ian who each had established and owned their own successful businesses, their business acumen was invaluable to me. Ian an entrepreneur had taken a new concept, Mobile Auto Care, and promoted it into a successful business in Adelaide which he eventually sold and moved to Western Australia where he successfully introduced the same business. We each had a special affiliation with each other. The last I heard of Ian he was planning to build a yacht and sail the world. Kevin was a staunch supporter and advocate of Alana Lee; his successful chain of Pet Shop businesses were proof of his business expertise which I often tapped into; he was a very popular guy and faithful Alana Lee member who supported and advised me.

My commitment and dedication to Alana Lee returned not only a handsome income, but provided me with the exact social life I craved for on weekends when the Academy was closed. I was in my element and it rewarded me with a great sense of pride of my achievements. I felt my members were family, I treated them with respect and enthusiasm and I received the same vibes in return which injected confidence in my ability to become a respected worthwhile person. I embraced the responsibility of so many people relying on me for their social life and interaction with other singles.

I was humbled because Bill had convinced me I would spend the rest of my life alone because I was too difficult to live with, well it may be the case that no-one could ever live with me but I would make sure I would have a lot of people around me. I would never be lonely and the surprising bonus of this 'social life' was the monetary benefits which unwittingly flowed in.

The only mistake I made with Alana Lee was my conception of being two separate identities. Adelaide was too small to allow this to happen, but it didn't matter, Alana Lee had earned a respectable reputation, many prominent people now attended my dinners and obviously spread the word. 'Single again' woodcarving students from downstairs cautiously questioned me about the functions, and inevitably attended functions. The conception with the woodcarvers was "If Eunice is running it, it must be okay."

"You must remember to call me Alana Lee at the functions." I warned them.

Most of Alana Lee members never knew my real name, which is what I wanted, those who became good friends of course did. I was given much encouragement and support from members who had become good friends.

One capably lady offered to edit and produce my newsletters a huge help I really appreciated these special friends I had unwittingly made.

My life was busy and fulfilling, I enjoyed hosting the functions, and I was making as much money from Alana Lee as I was from the Academy. I was able to save as well as adequately reduce the loan Bill thought would cause me to lose the Norwood property. I couldn't believe how easy it was to run successful businesses and make and save money with just me being in total control and handling all the finances.

I didn't start this business for money, it just happened allowing me to completely renovate my Norwood property into a stately home, so much so the Norwood Council in their wisdom nominated it to be Heritage listed along with many other homes in the area that had been lovingly restored. I did not want the restriction of a heritage listing on my property and as I discovered nor did the other owners. We en mass objected to council and finally succeeded in avoiding being heritage listed.

I wanted to travel. What better way than organising a group. Travel Agencies were happy to oblige and offered me a free trip with each group I took. How easy was that? Even though I had not travelled out of Australia I wasn't fazed. My first trip was to Singapore because it is an English-speaking country, I escorted a small group and we all enjoyed ourselves immensely, we did all the touristy things.

I was impressed by the beautiful orchids everywhere throughout Singapore. I bought some for my motel room which at the end of our stay I couldn't leave behind so took them with me thinking they would never be allowed into Australia. They were. These orchids took pride of place in my lounge/showroom and remained fresh for a few weeks.

I had a good rapport with the wood carvers I enjoyed the bantering and camaraderie. Bob and Alex attended classes each week, they were both air traffic controllers in Royal Australian Air Force, they asked me if would like to go the Officers Mess Ball at Edinburgh at the RAAF base in Adelaide on 16th September 1987. Would I like to go? I'd kill to go to that. It was an infamous ball only selected people ever got to attend, then only by invite.

"There is this guy we work with in the air traffic control section who always goes to these balls but doesn't have a suitable partner this year, he and his wife separated in January, he has a farm in the Barossa Valley, he is a nice guy, not your type, but he is good fun, you'll have a good time." Bob assured me.  
Yes I knew I'd have a good time, just being at the ball would ensure me a good time.  
Bob told this guy "she's good fun, but not your type."  
Bob said this guy wanted to meet me before the ball and take me out to dinner.

Damn! I didn't want to get to know him or go to dinner with him before the ball. I wanted to go to the ball on a blind date because then I wouldn't know that I didn't like him and I'd be able to enjoy myself unreservedly; if I didn't like him I wouldn't enjoy myself so much.

Of all the dates I had been on, not one of the dates interested me enough to want to go on a second date with them. I was the queen of one-night stands. I was fed up with being disappointed with each date. I had decided I wouldn't go on any more dates.

I would decline any dates from this guy, but I would partner him to the Ball and have a 'ball'.

I was fulfilled hosting Alana's functions. I was destined to remain solo for the rest of my life. I had accepted I would remain single forever. Hoad Woodcarving Academy provided me with a business, Alana Lee provided me with a fulfilling social life, and my special friends satisfied my sexual desires. Even though I sometimes yearned for that 'someone special' in my life, in fact I dreamed of having someone special to share my joy and prosperity with, I knew he would have to be some super human who could tolerate me; he also had to be distinguished but with a bit of devil in him and most importantly a good lover.

I knew this was only a dream no-one could possibly put up with me, even if I found the man of my dreams I wouldn't be the lady of his dreams.

I looked forward the Officers Mess Ball, I would enjoy it, but I would decline if this guy asked me out to dinner, I didn't want to attend the ball with someone I didn't like, I'd much prefer to attend the ball with a total stranger than a man I knew I didn't like because of a date I didn't want to go on.

I was attending the annual Campbelltown Ball, two weeks before the Offices Mess Ball and a Charity Ball at the Convention Centre the week after. I had asked the best ballroom dancer from Alana's members to partner me to both balls; he was honored and was looking forward to accompanying me, and had hired a limo to transport us. I was so looking forward to these two popular balls with one of Alana's trusted friends.

Twas the season for Balls. I loved the glitz and glamour of Balls, I loved the lavish gowns, and I loved dancing. I would walk over hot coals to attend a ball but would prefer to be with some-one I liked.

8th September 1987. The twenty fifth anniversary of my failed marriage; Bill's and my Silver Wedding Anniversary date. What do I do today? Certainly not sit around being morbid.

I rang James and offered to use a 'rain check' I had been fobbing him with for weeks. I specified 'just lunch' I knew he would have liked more than just lunch, but I had been completely turned off him, our relationship was now strictly business we had a lovely lunch and I raced straight home, alone. What do I do now? I didn't want to be home alone on this night, the 25th anniversary of my defunct marriage.

The phone rang. "Hello Eunice, its Bob. Are you free for dinner tonight?"

"I sure am."

"My work colleague who you are partnering to the ball would like to take you to dinner, I'll put him on he'd like to talk to you."

# Chapter 34

## John

"Hello, I'm John Neale; would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"

"That would be lovely. Thank you."

'Anything would be better than staying home alone on this night, the night of my Silver Wedding Anniversary. I will still go to the ball with him, and enjoy it, even if I don't like the guy' I thought to myself. I did not want to spend this night at home alone.

I didn't even change for dinner that night in fact I was quite blasé about this date, but it was better to have company, any company this night than spend the night on my own.

I answered the doorbell when it rang at precisely the allocated time. I was pleasantly surprised at what greeted me, a dapper tall slim man immaculately dressed in a well-fitting suit with not a hint of a 'beer belly'. I was impressed. I invited him in and showed him through the Academy downstairs.

I never missed a chance to promote the Academy and this would be the only chance he would get to have a look, besides air traffic controllers had proven to be good woodcarvers, maybe John too?

He seemed interested and said all the appropriate things. (I now know he wasn't a bit interested, he and wood don't get on).

We had a drink in my impressive showroom/lounge upstairs before we left for dinner, the orchids I brought back from Singapore which John commented on taking pride of place on the mantle.

"Singapore orchids?"

"Yes I've just got back from Singapore."

"Bob said you had so I thought we'd go to a Thai restaurant tonight, if you like Thai food."

Do I like Thai food? "I just love it."

John ushered me into his clean (which impressed me) Ford Cortina opening and closing the door (this also impressed me). He told me we were going to the Thai restaurant in Rundle Street, I was impressed, this was an especially good restaurant; he maneuvered the car expertly into an appropriate car space of the attached multistory car park. I was feeling very comfortable with this date so far.

He had bought two bottles of wine, a red and a white, it was a BYO restaurant (efficient forward planning I thought) he asked the welcoming staff who seemed to be expecting us, to put both bottles in the fridge.

'Dick head' I thought 'putting red wine in the fridge!'

The same smells of this restaurant were still in my nostrils from my Singapore trip, they renewed my senses. I felt good. John asked if I would like him to order for me and was there anything I didn't like. I didn't like coriander (then) (love it now) so he ordered in Thai an amasing variety of delicious dishes.

John explained the wines he had brought along. We'd start with the white wine, and then the red Beaujolais a light red wine which must be served chilled.

"Oh. He does know what he's talking about." He also let slip he ran the car through the 'carwash' on his way to pick me up (not so impressed).

Over dinner I learned he retired from RAAF in 1982 but was still actively working as an Air Traffic Controller as a reservist for a maximum of one hundred days a year, excellent tax free money to compliment his Defence Forces Retirement and Death Benefit payment and the income from his orchard.

During his time in the RAAF he was posted at many different bases so didn't purchase a property until he retired. His families' first home at Para Hills was sold to buy 'JayanDee' (John and Di) a forty acre apricot orchard in the Barossa Valley where he and his wife Di of twenty six years lived until they had separated the previous January, John now lived alone on the farm.

They had two children 26 year old son Peter (Pedro) married to Anita with two boys four year old Mathew and Adam a toddler who lived in their home at Para Hills where Di had moved to and 23year old daughter Sharyn and her one year old daughter Samantha who had left 'JayanDee' after many disputes, he loved his daughter but wouldn't tolerate her rebellion against his house rules.

John was resigned to the fact that although he loved 'JayanDee' it would have to be sold to pay Di her half share for settlement, he wasn't bitter over the separation. I thought he was handling his situation very well; he was very confident and comfortable within himself. I liked that, it was refreshing, most single again people I had met were lonely disillusioned and desperate with heaps of baggage.

John had no baggage. I liked his sureness confidence and leadership qualities. After we had eaten (and drank the two bottles of wine (twice as much as I usually drink) John suggested we go for dessert and coffee. He drove me to this quaint coffee shop in a quiet street in Unley that specialised in deserts. I was impressed. I didn't know this quaint place existed. We enjoyed delicious deserts and drank coffee. I needed to sober up a bit and get my head around this date.

We arrived back at my place about one in the morning. I asked him in for a drink. We sat in my living room each in a single chair of the new cane lounge setting I had bought, which turned out to be very uncomfortable, so uncomfortable in fact I'm sure it kept my virginity intact... well certainly it did whilst entertaining in my living room. We talked and talked. The more we talked he more we realised how alike we were, and how often our paths had crossed without us knowing.

We both come from similar family lifestyles with the same values and ethics, John was also brought up in the 'country'. Houghton and Rockdale quarry between Athelstone and Montacute where his father worked and his family lived in a house provided by the quarry until they moved to Edithburg on South Australia's York Peninsular.

As teenagers we attended the same dances in Adelaide, as young married couples we, each in our own groups, attended the popular Uraidla country dance each month. No alcohol was allowed at these dances, consequently we often popped over to the Uraidla pub across the road, we can each remember the other's group at these dances and at the pub whilst all enjoying ourselves. Although we weren't aware of each other back then we are sure we would have danced together in the Canadian Barn dance (a dance of changing partners).

We also discovered during our marriages we had both been a bit naughty, but we had both accepted the true facts of our flailing marriages and learned to make the most of our situations.

We discovered we each hung in our marriages but partook in extra marital activities through incompatibility and boredom until our partners each kicked us out. We had so much in common it was uncanny. The uncanny thing being our ages, there was less than a fortnight difference between us. We were both Aquarians.

At 4am. John decided he must go home. All the while we had been sitting in separate chairs, there had been no physical contact, but I felt a very strong connection, something I had never felt with another man... in my whole life. John got up and walked to the front door, I followed... cursing that damned uncomfortable cane setting.

"Goodnight. I enjoyed your company; I will pick you up at seven o'clock on the evening of the ball."

Oh! The ball, I had forgotten all about that. I reached up and gave him a passionate 'thank you for the evening' kiss to which he responded.

'Good, he does have some feelings.' I thought.

Then he was gone.  
Bob was now dating my friend Pam; they had met at an Alana Lee dinner and became very good friends. I saw them both the day after my dinner date with John. With great curiosity they both asked at once.

"How did it go?"  
I'll never forget the look on their faces when I said "Good! I liked him."  
Bob had warned us both we weren't suited to each other. "Definitely not your type"

"But!" I continued "I never fucked him and he'll be a rotten lover and that will stuff it all up."

"You should try it more often. Get to know your men before you fuck them." prudish Pam admonished me.

"I have to have a one-night stand to see whether I want a second date."  
I didn't like fumbling tentative lovers, in bed I was definitely the follower, much to some guy's astonishment, my lovers had to be confident considerate and know a ladies G. spots. I was sure John was shy and fumbly.

Bob was gob smacked that I even liked him. As John later explained he was a different John at work to the one I met, John's work persona was always straight laced and very professional.

I was really looking forward to the ball, and seeing John again, but that was eight days away... an eternity. Maybe he'll ring me? He didn't.

Two days later... Damn! I'll ring him and thank him for the lovely dinner.

John said he also enjoyed the evening and asked if I would accompany him to his nephews wedding in Melbourne in four weeks. This invite took me by surprise. I asked him what his family would think of him taking a perfect stranger interstate to a family wedding.

"Oh, they don't mind one bit. I've already asked them."

This response staggered me; he must have similar feelings to mine if he's told his family about me. I readily accepted but only on the assurance that his family approved.

I thought 'We'll probably stay in a motel so he must have confidence in himself to suggest spending a few days together.' 'Well it doesn't matter whether he's a good lover or not, I enjoy his company and I will look forward to going to Melbourne with him but first I will enjoy the ball'.

The following Sunday my impatience got the better of me again, I hadn't heard from him so I rang to invite him to a roast lamb dinner I was cooking that night. This was the first time I had invited any guy to my pad for a meal.

John obviously had something special for me to be so bold. I was disappointed when he declined because Pedro and family were visiting him, so I was pleasantly surprised when a few minutes later he rang back to accept the invite "if it is still okay with you?"

IT WAS!  
When John told Pedro and Anita he had declined a roast dinner invite from a lady, they encouraged him to ring back and accept because they were going home anyway.

I had the roast almost cooked in the electric fry pan in my ultra-basic kitchen when John rang. His car had broken down just north of the RAAF base.  
He gave me three choices

He could limp to the base and I could pick him up there and bring him back for the roast dinner.  
I meet him at the RAAF base and we go for dinner somewhere nearby.  
He taxi to and from my place.  
I didn't want to waste my roast meal, I chose option one.

He gave me directions to get to the RAAF base. I quickly carved and served up the roast in readiness to reheat when we arrived home.

I had never been in the vicinity of the RAAF base so I got lost a few times, the directions John gave me weren't too helpful, though the security instructions he gave me to get into the base were successful.

I finally much later than planned, arrived at the Officers Mess where John was at the bar patiently waiting with a delicious long cocktail which I instantly drank... then another... and another... and so on...We were both very happy. It was way past dinner time. We were way past eating. I was way past driving. We were both way past anything... sensible.

"We are going to make mad passionate love tonight." John whispered in my ear.

'Wow' I thought. This sounds promising, but we'll see?

John steered me to a room in the Officer's quarters not far from the Officers Mess, a basic room with bare necessities and a single bed, the bathroom was down the hall for communal use. My roast dinner was forgotten. We never did get to eat it. We never got to eat anything.

What a mind-blowing night this was. We literally made love all night. I enjoyed many multiple exotic orgasms, even when I thought it was impossible to have another John's expert lovemaking brought me to an even more sensual orgasm... all night long... until dawn, the sun was rising. I had to get back to the Academy. I never had a change of clothes I hadn't expected to stay overnight. I couldn't go to breakfast in the Officers Mess looking like I was.

John cleverly organised for a steward, which was way beyond a steward's role, to bring us coffee and toast in this room. I was grateful to eat something. I snuck out to my car hoping I wouldn't be seen; it wasn't politically correct for me to be seen coming out from Officers Mess Quarters; solely a man's domain.

I felt exhilarated, revitalised, energised, depleted, and daringly insane, madly in love and totally spent. I got in my car in a trance like state, in such a state that I should never have been driving. I was oblivious to the world. I was moving as if in a dream, I almost crashed into a car on the base because I wasn't aware I wasn't the only one on the roads in the Base where normal traffic rules apply. The driver of the car just shook his head at me, not unkindly, just enough to bring me to my senses enabling me to concentrate on getting home safely, which I did and promptly went straight to bed, after popping the untouched roast dinners in the freezer.

The night of the ball arrived. We hadn't seen each other since our night of lovemaking at the base; we both needed this time to recover and now were both fully refreshed, madly in love and looking forward to the ball.

John arrived early at Norwood to pick me up looking a million dollars in his white summer Mess kit with meddles attached. He gave me a long-stemmed red rose and a poem he had written since our last date... the night of loving thus consummating our relationship. I just melted. I was hooked... lined and sinkered.

I love sharing this poem. It is just so special. I have it framed surrounded by the red rose which I pressed as a special keepsake.

ODE TO SPRING LOVE.

By John Neale

to

Eunice Hoad

Ah sweet adult love how I adore you,

Or is it only spring right from the start,

Ah sweet adult love let me implore you,

If it is, then please don't tamper with my heart.

Some cynics may say we are on the rebound,

But you and I both know we've been around,

My heart and head maybe up in cloudland,

But my feet are firmly planted on the ground.

I hope this joy (I feel so good inside me),

Is a lasting thing of beauty for you too

For this love affair that we have started don't you see,

Is a rare and lovely thing that is shared by very few.

So let us save this evening as we play dear,

Let me be in your embrace at break of day,

We can love each other without fear dear.

May this springtime last forever and a day.

Meet John! Orchids for me. Poem and rose. Off to the Ball

The Ball! It was a spectacular event, with everything beautifully presented and organised. The food was divine, the Mess was transformed into a wonderland, the ladies were resplendent in their lavish new gowns, but what impressed me most of all were the men, all proudly attired in their formal mess kits as befitting to their rank, even though the woman looked resplendent I thought the men way outshone them with their stunning attire, but then I had never seen men dressed in formal service uniforms.

John and I floated everywhere; we were on cloud nine. John's colleagues all commented how well and happy he looked. I realised he was a respected and valued officer though retired. I discovered John was a good dancer I floated along with him as he maneuvered me through many tricky steps around the dance floor and just loved it.

I absolutely fell in love with him even more as we glided around the dance floor to the music of a top band which finished at midnight when a second band took over and played until dawn when breakfast was served. We left at midnight exhausted, retreating to the VIP suite in the Officers Mess quarters where of course we made very passionate love for a long time.

I don't know how John wangled it for us to have 'the' VIP suite on this night, but he did. I think love shone through. No-one can resist a lover.

I was so happy. I couldn't believe I could be so lucky to find such a compatible partner. I thought I had it made, he could live in his home, I could live in mine and we'd get together when it suited us. John was everything I had dreamed of in a man and to top it off he was by far the best lover I had ever had; after all I was well qualified to judge.

I had well and truly shopped around, and I am not one bit sorry I did.

John's farm was almost an hour drive from my place. My first visit to his farm was an invitation to dinner a few days after the ball. John gave me directions and said if I passed Wolf Blass winery I had gone too far, his farm abutted it. I left after work and sure enough I found myself passing Wolf Blass's, so turned around and found the turnoff into his farm which was overshadowed by the winery. I arrived right at dinner time.

His farm was pretty much all fruit trees, mainly apricots with a traditional German cottage nestled amongst the trees with a huge shed near the house. I was amased on walking into the clean and tidy comfortable country kitchen to see the table in the centre of the huge kitchen set for two with a crisp freshly laundered and ironed tablecloth, appropriate cutlery, china, crystal and accruements, but the most impressive thing was the vase of beautifully arranged fresh flowers and lit candles taking pride of place. OMG. I could not believe my luck in meeting such a gentleman. Thank you Bob!

The table setting was just the start of the surprises for this night. John ushered me into my chair at the table and poured me a glass of champagne. He worked away in the kitchen chatting all the while. He served delicious homemade soup with a small crispy roll, we chatted nonstop until he served up the most amasing roast I had ever seen.

Roast beef with horseradish sauce (I had never heard of it) and a variety of veggies I never dreamed of roasting, beetroot, sweed, turnip plus the usual potato, pumpkin carrot and onion accompanied by a gravy boat of steaming gravy. How delicious it was, and I heartily devoured it because I hadn't been cooking for myself and had lost quite a bit of weight. A tasty liqueur ice-cream and strawberry parfait desert finished the delicious meal which had been accompanied with appropriately selected wines.

I hadn't moved my bum off the seat John had ushered me into when I arrived. I was so impressed and star struck; but I was completely blown away when I realised there was not a dirty dish in the kitchen (no dish washer either), he had cleaned and washed up as the evening progressed and I hadn't even noticed. He was a wonder man and seemed to be really enjoying himself. I couldn't believe anyone could enjoy cooking so much. I hated cooking.

I drove home next morning on cloud nine after a lovely meal and mutual sexual saturation. I couldn't wait to tell my woodcarving students about this wonder man I had met, what a great cook and lover he was. I loved to share my good news with people, they all commented on how happy I looked. I felt good too. All my sexual desires had been satisfied in the most satisfying way, through love.

I didn't need my 'extra' friends anymore. John knew about them, we had no secrets, we had poured our hearts out to each other, we had both been bits of rascals, so understood each other's needs. I told each 'extra' friend as they rang, about John, although they were upset to be losing my companionship they were happy for me and understood. I severed all relations with them. I know if ever I saw them again the mutual respect would still be prevalent.

John and I were besotted with each other. I knew his lovemaking expertise would have a hold over me forever I was butter in his hands even though he smoked, though sparingly when he was with me.

I as a reformed smoker couldn't stand the smell of cigarettes. I told him I would never live with a smoker, and I seriously meant it.  
Pam accused me of giving him an ultimatum.

"I have not given him an ultimatum. I have simply made a statement." I emphatically told her. I absolutely could never live with a smoker, but it didn't matter, we could make love very often and each live in our own homes. Though I knew I didn't want to be with any other man ever again I thought living in our own homes would give us each our own independence.

HIV Aids a new deadly disease had recently been reported in Australia; neither John nor I had taken precautions from sexually transmitted diseases so we decided we would undergo Aids tests. We each went to our respective doctors. My Doctor when I asked for an Aids test said "NO, you don't need an Aids test, only people with multiple partners need an Aids test."

"U'hum doctor." I confessed "I have had multiple partners: and " I continued " I make no apologies for my promiscuity because I believe orgasms are the best cure for many problems especially stress, and if everyone was absolutely sexually saturated it would be a healthy world and you doctors would be out of business and the mental hospitals would be empty."  
Doctor thought about that or a while then cautiously said "Mm you could be right."

"I know I'm right Doc."  
Doctor then proceeded to give me a lecture on all the other nasty diseases transmitted by sexual activities. I had no idea, and I'm pleased I didn't. I don't know that I could have abstained even if I had been aware of the dangers of STD.

The tests for us both all came back negative.

We felt rather smug about having a clean slate, especially with us both having been so promiscuous. We had each other now and could enjoy a healthy sex life together without fear of being contaminated.

I thought I had better ask John to my place for dinner. I did, but no way was I going to reveal my lack of cooking prowess. I asked him to dinner "Eunice style."

He accepted telling me later he thought I may have been a vegetarian, him being a meat lover a vegetarian would have been hard to accept.

We started with cocktails in the lounge/office sitting on the red lounge setting Bill had made, John knew of the traumas and hassles I had been through and we cheekily decided to christen the three-seater lounge in the most degrading way. We did! And enjoyed it! Giggling madly I tied a bow around John's penis, he lay out on the lounge and I took a photo. I dreamed of sending it to Bill, but of course I never did.(I still have that photo.)

Back to dinner... after we had gotten dressed we continued enjoying cocktails and hor'douves. I could see John looking a little concerned there was obviously no sign of anything being prepared for a meal. It was my turn to surprise him.

"Are you ready to have dinner?"

"Yes I am."

"Well let's adjourn to my dining room."

John was looking even more concerned and confused. I opened the front door and led an astonished John across the road to the restaurant where a table was especially prepared for us. We enjoyed pampered silver service and an excellent meal.

I never cooked for myself, I thought it a waste of time I had too many other more important activities to contend with; besides eating made me fat. I was enjoying being slim again. John knew I didn't cook for myself and worried I wasn't getting the right nourishment. I couldn't go to his place as often as we would have liked because of work commitments so one week night he rang and told me he was bringing a cooked dinner to my place and all I had to do was set the table.

I hurriedly finished work and set the table adorned with lit candles in my chocolate brown seductively draped dining room.

The meal John brought blew my mind, three different casseroles of delicious food, a salad and a home cooked fruit pie. I just had to share my pleasure, so raced downstairs to the class of evening students and invited them up to have a look at my laden table and meet my wonder man.

They were all so impressed. John was an instant hero. I was filled with pride. How could I be so fortunate to meet someone as special as John? I desperately wished everyone could meet their absolute soul mate. It took so little to live an idealistic lifestyle with the right compatible partner, and I am convinced there is one for everyone... if only they could meet... well... Alana Lee was doing her best to give folks opportunities to meet their sole mate.

We were looking forward to attending Rob (John's nephew) and Tracy's wedding in Melbourne. As it happened I had prearranged to take Alana Lee's group to see the musical show 'Cats' in Melbourne the previous weekend. Alana hosted the group for two days in Melbourne culminating at the theatre to see Cats.

It was a successful weekend and on the way back to Adelaide I got off the bus at Ballarat where John and his mother were waiting for me at Le-Anne's. John had driven his mother in my car to Ballarat where Le-Anne would meet my wonder man and his mum. Le-Anne immediately liked John. She was very happy for me, as was all my family and friends.

I had met John's mum the week before. I immediately liked her, she was so different to my mother, she was a happy soul, cheeky and broadminded, she understood the fever John and I were in and we could talk comfortably to her about absolutely anything.

The wedding was lovely. I met all John's family; I loved them all they were a warm fun-loving jovial lot. I felt engulfed in their love for each other. John's mother and her sister Merle from Sydney obviously shared a special connection. John's sister Jan the mother of the groom was a special lady, she had single handedly raised her four children after the breakdown of her marriage when the children were very young.

Julie-Ann, Jan's only daughter was a bridesmaid, the epitome of extrovertedness (the stupid spell check says this is not a word, but it is. I just invented it;) it describes Julie-Ann to a T. Julie-Ann's two children Jaimie-Lee and David were also in the bridal party. Jan's two youngest children Philip and Danny played their roles as ushers with pride.

The bride looked lovely, the groom looked proud and happy. We all enjoyed the reception and the party that lasted well into the night. I felt a part of John's family very much, and they welcomed me into their fold.

Of course we made long love in our motel room that night we couldn't get enough of each other. I did so enjoy having orgasms on tap.

John and I drove back to Adelaide on our own stopping over in Ballarat. John wanted to buy new clothes, we asked Le-Anne to help him choose them, she knew the shops and was up-to-date with fashion trends, we felt like 'born again trend setters'. John was happy to try on the clothes Le-Anne chose, Le-Anne was amazed John was willing to consider purchasing clothes of her choice, his slim figure suited these trendy outfits, her father was ultra conservative and wouldn't have gone into such a trendy shop let alone wear the clothes. John bought many of the clothes Le-Anne had chosen; he always looked good in them and said he felt good.

On the long eight hour drive back to Adelaide of course we had to stop by the roadside for some light relief and orgasms, we made a nest in the bush out of sight from the road and...

We spent every spare minute we possibly could together, mostly at my place and when I was able to get away from my commitments at John's. We seldom spent a night apart, we couldn't stand being apart we seemed to be kindred spirits, he encouraged me to be absolutely myself even to the extent of openly farting instead of trying to conceal as I had always done prior to meeting John whose mother had taught him 'where-ever you be, let your wind go free'.

John accompanied me to Alana Lee functions, the woman all asking if he had a brother; well he did, but an attached one who lived in the Murray Lands of South Australia. John was very popular with Alana members, especially the females, but he was very much spoken for and definitely not available.

I spent as much time with John on his farm as I could, I was able to absolutely relax there, John waited on me hand and foot. I was quite blown away one day as I was sun baking sheltered by apricot trees in the nude of course and very relaxed when John brought out a beautifully presented ploughman's lunch platter, he stripped off and we both sat starkers in his orchard under the shade of the fruit trees enjoying this delicious lunch along with a bottle of good Barossa wine, followed by what comes naturally. I was in heaven and so in love.

John and I on Anaconda 2

'The Stocky' the local pub at nearby Stockwell was John's hang out, he spent a lot of time there with the 'locals'. I met them all and enjoyed their company.

There was much singing at this hotel, we, Phil Lamb, Penny and John, Terry and Lorna all of whom became firm friends often breaking into song for no reason at all, with the patrons either joining in or staring at us in amasement. We unofficially named ourselves the BUMS. The Barossa United Music Society. Many a fun night we had at this pub with the publicans becoming friends and providing excellent counter meals which we usually ate in the dining room with a bottle of good Barossa red... or two... or three.

John invited me to join a group from 'The Stocky' to spend a Sunday sailing out of Pt. Adelaide in the Anaconda 2. This yacht had competed in the Sydney to Hobart Yacht race. The weather was perfect, the day was so enjoyable. I felt like a princess sitting on the bow of the boat in John's arms as we sailed into the ocean. I had never been on the ocean on a sail boat it was magical. I met the skipper of the yacht (and wore his captain's hat as I steered the yacht) PBBO as he called himself. 'Poor Bloody Boat Owner.'

I accompanied John to many social functions at the Officers Mess at Edinburgh RAAF Base, the first formal dinner I attended where protocol is strictly adhered to I was a blubbering mess wondering how-ever I would remember all the protocol and formal stuff John had insisted was mandatory. I decided I would just stick by John's side and follow his lead; copy everything he did and say nothing. I was on tender hooks hoping I wouldn't do something wrong and embarrass him.

I think I did a good job, I kept as low a profile as I could while observing the pomp and ceremonial goings on, the food was delicious and the wine flowed... and flowed, everyone was happy and becoming happier, soon all pomp and ceremony disappeared and the evening finished up as informal and boisterous as it could possibly be with a room full of intoxicated folks. I was never worried again about protocol.

One memorable formal dinner I was seated directly opposite the South Australian Governor Dame Roma Mitchell. What a lovely down to earth lady; we chatted nonstop, I really enjoyed that function.

John had three Maltese Terrier dogs, Puffy was pregnant. These dogs were four legged people in John's eyes and of course slept on the bed with him... and consequently... us. On the nights John slept at my place I was on tender hooks at each groan pregnant Puffy uttered as she tried to get comfortable between our feet and the two other Malts. I was so relieved when John rang one morning after a rare night he stayed at his place.

"Congratulate me. I have become a grandfather. Puffy had five babies early this morning."

"Where?"

"On my bed."

Thank goodness I thought.

"I've had to completely strip the bed and take the blankets and padded velvet bedspread to the dry cleaners."

These puppies father was Pedro's Jack Russell, they were lively, healthy, fluffy, adorable messy, and a lot of work, but John loved them and tended to their every whim. They were a huge responsibility. I laughed a lot when John explained how he tried to bath them in the warmth of his kitchen on his carpeted floor, there were drenched puppies running all over the house.

John realised he couldn't keep so many puppies; he gave them away to good homes. Penny chose one and called him Ewok he was much loved, the others we took to Norwood and put a sign out the front and soon the puppies were all placed with caring people. John realised even his three adult dogs were a tie, so he eventually gave them to selected friends whom he knew would love them as much as he did. I had DD my budgie which John adopted in lieu of his dogs.

The first squash night John stayed at my place he chose to stay at home even though I invited him to come along and watch us play and enjoy the camaraderie after. Squash was very much a team effort, encouraging each other as we played our matches, usually finishing quite late. This night as we were relaxing as usual over supper and a few drinks. I was anxious to get home. At midnight much to the surprise of my team mates I announced I was going home.

"Why so early?"

"I have a man waiting for me in my bed?"  
There was no way they could entice me to stay longer, they were all happy for me.  
As I approached home the place was lit up. All the lights were on.

"Whatever is wrong?" I wondered.

John met me at the door. "Where have you been? I have been worried about you. Ring me if you are going to be late"

"I am not late! I am early! No, I won't ring you... unless I'm in trouble."

I wasn't about to give up my independence and answer to my movements especially when it involved squash.

Xmas was approaching. I had booked the beach house at Seaford for two weeks over Xmas. John and Bob offered to cook us Xmas lunch, Pam and I would be guests as well as Pedro and his family and my kids who had met John and really liked him.

What a lovely Xmas lunch the boys cooked. Pam and I couldn't believe the confidence and co-operation between John and Bob as they prepared the delicious meal. John had brought his Weber (we had never seen one in use) and expertly cooked a whole stuffed turkey; a leg of pork complete with crackling and roast vegetables which they served with steamed greens.

The pudding and brandy cream was an even bigger surprise. John had made his traditional family cloth pudding a few weeks prior, which was boiling in the pot while they made brandy cream which was to just die for. This meal was the most sumptuous Xmas dinner I had ever had, everyone enjoyed it so much, especially the pudding. My kids were as gob smacked as me at the efficiency of John and Bob, though they weren't keen on Xmas puddings and had to be coaxed into trying some liberally coated with the brandy cream, they loved it, everyone loved it.

What a lovely Xmas season this was. Our kids all got on so well, we had such a good time together with lots of fun and laughter. Mark and John got on so well, especially over a few drinks, well quite a few drinks actually. Mark and John's bonding healed my relationship with Mark. I was so happy and content.

John's Xmas pudding and brandy cream is still expected to be served every Xmas, and is, with the leftovers heartily devoured for breakfast the next morning.

John had to return to the farm to pick and dry the apricots, quite an exercise, all the fruit ripened at once and had to be picked before it became over ripe. John's mother, Pedro and family and some of their young mates stayed over to help, they had done it previous years and each had their allotted chores. I was there for some of the time but wasn't allowed to do any work. I was an honored guest.

I watched with a critical eye; I had dried many apricots from Poppa's prolific tree over the years. I couldn't stand waste and after I'd filled all my preserving bottles and made jam and chutney I dried the remainder; it was always a busy time of the year for me and the fruits of my labour was always appreciated.

John had a production line of helpers cutting the fruit and placing them on the trays while he led another gang picking the fruit. I was surprised at the amount of fruit left to waste when John announced "knock off time" at 4.45pm. Everyone downed tools and relaxed with a beer, leaving half buckets of ripe fruit and half-filled trays which rotted overnight and were thrown out. The full trays of fruit were placed in a room sized dehydrator dryer before placing them in the sun to completely dry. I thought all these young folk worked well together and were so polite especially to me, so much so I commented on their politeness. I later learned Anita had threatened them to behave and not swear in front of me. Shame! I would have felt more at ease if they had been rowdy and crude, as they were at the 'shed party' at the completion of the harvest.

Drying the fruit in the sun was a huge chore and could take a few weeks especially if the days were dull. The many trays had to be taken in each night to avoid the damp night air, and the likelihood of rain, it was a constant commitment and hard work. John couldn't leave the farm until the apricots were dried to perfection and delivered to Angus Fruits. I was surprised after all this work and commitment with expenses taken out the profit was no more than Alana Lee made on one popular event night.

The harvest finished only just in time to go to Pt. Lincoln to see mum on the Australia Day weekend of the Tunarama Festival. Mum of course wanted to check John out. Phil's wife originally from Ceduna knew mum and wagered a bottle of champers with John that he wouldn't be able to win her over, he was sure he would, so was I.

John hired a private plane and one of his colleagues 'Flash' would pilot it to Pt. Lincoln. Wow what an experience. We, with Flash's wife and baby son settled into the five-seat single engine Cessna. Flying over Adelaide after Flash had run us through the safety drill Flash asked if we were thirsty.

"No we are OK thanks."

"Pity" he said "I have a cold bottle of Champers here."  
Well! Yes! We instantly developed a thirst. All except Flash enjoyed the champagne as we made the fifty minute very pleasant and memorable flight to Pt. Lincoln.

Mum met us at the airport and asked John if he would like to take over driving her car.

"I do like to have a staff." she said.

John had won the wager.

This was a great weekend. John paid for the plane, I paid for the accommodation in a hotel for us all in return for Flash piloting us, he hired a car and his family explored Pt Lincoln while John and I spent time with my family including Roger and Angie who also came (I suspect) to check John out.

I think they were suitably impressed especially when John offered them a flight over Pt. Lincoln with Flash readily agreeing to pilot us. I was so content and deliriously happy and it showed, everybody commented on how happy and 'well' I looked.

"You mean how I have put on weight?"  
I had gained a few kilos with John's delicious cooking and 'force feeding'.

"No No you look good you needed to put on some weight."

Shane, one night before we went out to dinner and 'piss up' (as he called it) seriously said "While we are still all sober there is something I want to say"  
he stood directly in front of John looking him in the eye said "I have never seen mum so happy, but if you ever hurt her just remember I am a big boy."

My heart swelled with love for my son who could not have shown his feelings toward me in a more meaningful way, even so I laughed as did John. I had no concerns about John 'hurting' me, as I knew the depth of his feelings for me.  
Many years later we reminded Shane of his threat.

"Yes and I still mean it ya bastard."  
John still chuckles over it; such is the camaraderie between them.

John's divorce and settlement was pending. As is usual settlement couldn't be agreed on. John loved the farm but would have to buy his half from Di if he wanted to stay there, or sell it and share the profits with her. He said he couldn't afford to buy her out. I thought he could, if he didn't go to the hotel so regular, what he spent at the hotel could easily meet a mortgage payment for his share of the farm. I dared suggest this to him, but then questioned him if he really wanted to be tied to the farm and the responsibilities of it for such a small return.

He decided he didn't want to be tied down; he would sell the farm. I was pleased he made this decision; I thought it was the right one, the farm was a huge commitment with little return.

9th May 1988 Shane's twenty first birthday; he wanted to have a party at his home at Hectorville with a pig on the spit which John and Pedro offered to prepare and cook. Bill also lived at Hectorville in his separate quarters, I wondered how he would accept John and Pedro, but it was all okay, they avoided each other and I certainly made sure I never came in contact with Bill.

Shane and Lorita prepared and planned for the party, they did such a good job, it was a great party, the pig was cooked to perfection everyone literally 'pigged out', even Fleur. Next day we had to take Fleur to the vet, she was almost paralytic, she couldn't stand let alone walk, we were so worried. We found she was overdosed with pork; dogs shouldn't eat too much pork it is poison to them. Fleur recovered and we learned a valuable lesson, don't feed dogs pork it is way too rich for them.

Pam and I had planned a holiday in Queensland this winter to coincide with the Brisbane Expo. Pam had a Time Share apartment on the Gold Coast, she had invited me to accompany her and also stay with her mother for a few days in Brisbane to attend Expo88.

We considered whether it would be appropriate to ask Bob and John to join us. We put it to them; they both thought it a great idea. It was agreed. The boys would fly independently to Brisbane and hire a car for us all. Pam provided the accommodation. I was the lucky one, I just went along.

We were all looking forward to this holiday so much. Pam's mum lived not far from the Brisbane CBD right near a railway station which took us directly to Southbank where Expo88 was held.

Expo88 was a wonderment in itself. I felt privileged to have had the opportunity to experience this amasing event enhanced by the hospitality and location made available to us by Pam's mum.

The boys drove us to the Gold Coast in the hire car. The luxurious two suite apartment overlooked the ocean where we each had our own suite. We each went our own way during the day and had dinner together each evening. What a wonderful holiday it was. We all got on so well and immensely enjoyed each other's company, we were good mates and agreed we'd do this holiday each year utilising Pam's time share apartment.

John suffered from bronchitis, it was during one of his attacks I suggested he give up smoking, I assured him it would be beneficial to his health, and if he was really serious about quitting smoking now was the time to quit, he couldn't smoke with bronchitis and a new relationship would help to keep his mind occupied and give him an incentive.

John took it on board, gave up smoking and never had another smoke or bronchial attack: to this day, he thanks me from the bottom of his heart.

John and I both had the holiday bug, we wanted to travel. I saw an ad for a caravan, we looked at it, it was an older van but quite roomy, seventeen feet long and eight foot wide, we felt comfortable just sitting in it, we decided we'd buy it, well I would buy it, rather Alana Lee would, she had enough petty cash. John towed it back to the farm behind his Ford Cortina. We shared all the costs of our adventures together in order to maintain our financial independence, but I offered to buy the van.

John suggested we have a practice holiday.

"We'll go to Pt Hughes for the weekend." I thought it a good idea.

"Great! Where is Pt Hughes?"

It is in the copper triangle of York Peninsular one hundred and seventy kilometers from Adelaide, perfect for a trial holiday.

We were passing through North Yelta, a tiny village near Moonta when I spotted a small run-down cottage 'For Sale'.

"That could be quite cute if all the rubbish and additions were cleared away." I flippantly said as we passed it. I was always on the lookout for properties especially now that John's farm looked as if it would soon be sold. I was encouraging John to put his share of the farm straight back into property before it frittered away, which it surely would.

We set the van up in the caravan park high on the cliff overlooking the sea at Pt. Hughes. It was great, we felt very much at home in this roomy van. John caught enough fish off the jetty to feed us for the weekend, he taught me to catch fish as well. On the second day it was rainy and windy, we couldn't fish.

I suggested "Let's have a look at that cottage for sale I saw at North Yelta."  
There was nothing else to do so John agreed to go along with me. We inspected the property on government leased land making it impossible to purchase unless you had cash, banks wouldn't lend on leasehold land therefore the property was priced accordingly and very affordable at $25,000.

It needed heaps of work and a good imagination as to how it could be renovated. John needed coaxing, I could see the potential and told him I'd help, we could renovate together. John didn't like the home being on leased land but I knew it wasn't an issue in fact it was more of an advantage and suited John at this financially uncertain time as his marital affairs were being settle. When the farm was sold and all settlements finalised he at his leisure would be able to freehold the property.

The cottage had been empty since its elderly owner was admitted to a nursing home over a year earlier. The owner's son and wife lived next door and desperately wanted the property sold, it was a huge liability for them they were getting older and wanted to move into Moonta town.

The cottage was built in the early 1900's of mud and stone by Cornish miners who immigrated to Moonta to work in the mines, a typical miners cottage with a bull nosed verandah across the front. The front two rooms were quite grand consisting of a large bedroom and parlor both with very high elaborate pressed iron ceilings, the parlor featured a lovely wooden ornate fireplace. The second two rooms were a step down in reality and status but also with the original sloped pressed iron ceilings though not so high as the front rooms, one room a smaller bedroom the other a living room with a Metters No.2 wood stove built into the fireplace.

The back portion of the cottage comprised of a kitchen and bathroom with ceilings so low tall people had to walk with care and duck to go through the doorways. These meagre back rooms were the first to be built, then as the family grew the middle two rooms were added and finally when finances allowed the grand two rooms were built on the front, explaining the differing levels and architecture of the cottage with each addition having its own character and individuality.

The building was in poor repair, very original and pretty much unlivable. The present owner bought this property in 1923 for eighty pounds, included in the bill of sale was the Metters No 2 stove and a galvanized iron water tank. John now has a copy of this bill of sale. The home's only renovations was the crudely built closed in front verandah and very dated wall paper which was peeling off revealing large cracks in the fragile walls.

I don't remember how it actually eventuated but I know I executed my real estate know how and convinced John who wasn't keen, to buy such a rundown property and on leased land .I went into negotiation mode.

We left Pt. Hughes with John having signed an unconditional contract for $18,000. I had emphatically told him it was a very good buy and investment at that price and with a bit of effort we could make it livable and besides he could easily afford it when the farm was sold.

The owner's family was pleased to have it off their hands even at the greatly reduced price I negotiated. The leased land was an added bonus for John because it kept the value of the property way down and I knew the government wanted to off load leased land and encouraged and helped people purchase land these homes were built on by offering ridiculously low interest loans.

The agreed purchase cost of this cottage was so low that if the farm didn't sell before John had to pay for it he could cover it with bridging finance. He didn't have to, his farm sold and settled well before settlement date.

I helped John move his share of marital possessions to Moonta, a few car and trailer loads. I had to wangle my work commitments, and was happy to do so to be with John. We were both so madly in love. Nothing was too much effort; we glided through the tasks with ease and anticipation of his new home though John was most concerned about its decrepit state. I wasn't. I could visualize how it could easily be renovated by DIY or DIO (do it ourselves).

I was busy at the Academy on the settlement date of John's farm, the last day he would spend there, this day was a very emotional day for him, it was the end of not only his marriage but his farming dreams. After handing over the keys at midday he went to the 'Stocky' to say goodbye to his mates.

At closing time it was obvious he couldn't drive. The publican didn't have any spare rooms for the night so he drove to Phil's place nearby. Phil wasn't home, so in his drunken state John decided to drive to my place an hour drive away.

I was at home having finished the day's work wondering what John was doing. I finally went to bed, only to be woken up by banging on the front door. It was John holding his belongings including his 22 rifle which he kept in his car, looking very dejected and spent.

"You might not want to let me in." he sheepishly said.

"I had an accident in the car. I pulled out onto the highway and didn't see the car coming. I ran into it."

"Just as well there wasn't one coming the other way." I said.

"There was. I hit that one too. Miraculously no-one was hurt. I blew .021. I was lucky the police didn't lock me up, they would have except for my service licence; they kindly dropped me back here."

I berated him for being so stupid as to drive after spending the afternoon in the pub. As disgusted as I was I was ever so grateful no-one was hurt, especially John. I gave him such a hard time over his stupidity.  
Shane quietly said to me "Mum lay off him or you'll lose him."

"If I lose him over this I don't want him."  
Shane opened his arms, pointed to his shoulders and said "These are broad! Use them to vent your anger, I'm tough, I can take it, just lay off John."

John lost his licence for fourteen months and was fined $1200. To our dismay the insurance company wouldn't pay a cent for any of the damaged cars because of his alcohol blood reading. I hadn't realised the small print stated that insurance payouts were subject to zero alcohol blood level. John had to pay for not only his car but the two others he had hit as well. He suggested he'd declare bankruptcy. I knew that wouldn't work, he'd just sold the farm and had received his share of the sale in cash and had paid for the cottage, he wouldn't qualify for bankruptcy.

This drunken escapade was a very expensive exercise. He never drank and drove again.

I was now the sole driver in our duo. I warned John I wasn't going to be a taxi to drive a drunk around. I wasn't about to give him a free ticket to drink without consideration. He never abused my generosity to transport him around he managed his situation very well, though one day as I was driving my car with him in the passenger seat another driver did something stupid, John pushed his window button down (a novelty for him) leaned out the window and abused the driver. I was horrified. My car was easily recognisable, I was quite well known. I didn't want me labeled with this abusive behavior.

"Don't you dare do that in my car again... ever!" I warned. He didn't.

Although John's car was soon repaired I preferred to drive my car, I had gotten too soft to go back to driving a manual with no power steering. John because of his DUI charge couldn't get an insurance company to insure him; finally my broker was able to find a company to insure his car on my good reputation. This was a very embarrassing time for John and I supported him. I loved him so much. John's property settlement only just managed to cover the cost of purchasing the cottage and repairing the three cars.

The cottage needed a massive renovation job which John and I physically tackled ourselves with love... for the cottage and each other. It had to be completely rewired which proved to be a lengthy process mainly because it was difficult nailing the electrician down to complete the job.

A new kitchen and bathroom were mandatory with new plumbing throughout. We searched second hand shops and garage sales for kitchen and bathroom goods including cupboards sink and vanity which when cleaned and painted proved more than adequate. The plumbing was easy, John was able to do most of it with the help of a retired plumber living next door.

We stripped off the wall paper and mate Phil a master plasterer patched up the massive cracks. Although there were no living white ants in the property much evidence showed there had been, John replaced what had been destroyed including the parlor floorboards. John wanted to replace much of the building like the doors and window frames which were made of bits and pieces and the pressed metal ceilings which were rusted and falling down, I knew it would be cost prohibitive and practicality impossible. I said if he could secure the ceiling to the rafters I could mend the holes, the shoddy timber works we successfully covered in fresh paint. I quoted mum's words many times "Paint covers up a lot of sins."

It sure did.

As we made the cottage livable it needed furnishing: on a strict budget. We hunted second hand stores and classified ads where John bought an old polished cedar wood double bed, wardrobe and matching dressing table for the guest room, it looked great in the freshly painted nipple pink and labia trimmed room with matching pink lace curtains and frilled bed cover which I made from cheap exquisite lace I found. The effect was stunning and matching the décor of the era of the cottage. John bought a second hand solid Noblet (well-known Adelaide furniture makers) extension table and four chairs for the kitchen (which we still have) and full length fridge miraculously matching the freezer he brought from the farm, the kitchen was large (a rare luxury we now realise) enough to fit a side by side fridge/freezer.

The living room needed a lot of work we could see into the kitchen through the cracks in the wall, the rusted Wunderlich ceiling was falling down. Phil painstakingly patched and plastered the walls, John nailed up the ceiling easily reached by standing on a milk crate I filled in rust holes and painted it, an easy job with such low ceilings. John's old sofa bed and television set from the farm was the only furniture in this room along with the Metters wood stove which we used regularly.

John was delighted when his large set of display shelves he had made in Thailand fitted perfectly in the front parlor, quite a grand room featuring the high Wunderlich iron ceiling and ornate wooden fireplace, there was no other furniture in this room, we didn't use it except for Xmas when we went into the scrub and chopped a pine tree branch to decorate. The parlor came alive on Xmas day when our families gathered around the brightly decorated tree amid much frivolity as we opened presents accompanied by the woody smell of the fresh pine.

The main bedroom adjoining the parlor at the front also had high Wunderlich ceilings with aging wallpaper on all the walls. I was wearing out with renovating and this room wasn't as bad as the back rooms so I made drapes to completely cover the decaying window wall, very decadent it looked, but really covered a multitude of sins. John brought the wardrobe bed head and dressing table from the farm but needed a bed. He bought a new queen bed, a luxurious water bed, it was just so comfortable and welcoming, such luxury I had never known. I made an extravagant (matching the curtains) bed ensemble which completed the deceptive luxury effect our 'love nest' evoked.

We attended all the auctions held locally, and bought many treasured bargains, though at one auction we bought a treasure but not so much a bargain. We wanted a Guzunta (pot that goes under the bed) for the guest room. I spotted a pink china chamber pot. Ideal! The bidding had started, I really wanted this pot. I put my bid in and kept my eyes fixed on the auctioneer who we had grown to know quite well. There was apparently one other person bidding as furiously as me, the bid was now more than I expected to pay.

"SOLD!" The auctioneer banged his gavel!

Who to? I wondered.

"To John and Eunice!" said the auctioneer amongst much laughter from the amused crowd. We had been bidding against each other.

"Come and stand next to me woman, and don't leave my side" a frustrated John admonished me. Never mind we had our Guzunta the pride of our guest room and used many times because the toilet was way down the back yard.

At an auction only a few doors from the cottage for only a few dollars we bought an ugly old large wooden table and five wooden chairs for the living room, we easily carried them home and with a nice table cloth and bowl of fresh flowers the sparse living room was enhanced.

I must say that humble room and meager furniture hosted many happy fun filled times with family and friends during all the years John owned it.

We only worked on the cottage during the weekends Alana wasn't hosting a dinner. I had to keep up my businesses and John worked at the RAAF as a reservist as often as he could. He was very lucky the Officers now in charge at the Control Tower were once his subordinates, there had always been respect between them and still was, they welcomed John working with them when he had the time. I often drove to the base and spent an evening with him and on weekends I wasn't working I'd pick him up on Friday and head for Moonta in time to relax and have a counter meal at the Moonta Pub ready for a weekend of renovating.

We met some great local characters at the Moonta pub including Benny Simms a well-known local fisherman and his bundle of dynamite loaded with personality wife Elly, we had many fun Friday nights at this pub and many parties in the cottage amidst the chaos of renovations.

Our kids from Adelaide loved to spend the weekends with us, they loved getting out of the city, they helped clear the yard which was a graveyard of relics; the Cornish owner obviously stored or buried everything rather than dump it, the boys took many loads to the dump, much work was accomplished and much alcohol drank, everyone was extremely happy and alcohol was an added boost.

One night as the boys were partying in the living room, Le-Anne who didn't partake of alcohol doodled with a pencil on the unpainted wall a remarkable likeness of the photo of John hanging near her doodle, we were so impressed we left it there. Phil after he finished plastering the walls drew a Prince of Wales feather on the same wall, both doodles looked so good we painted around these doodles each time we redecorated and painted the room. These doodles were still on the wall when John sold the cottage many years later.

The living room was a lovely cosy room, in winter we fired up the Metters wood stove making the cottage warm and cosier as we cooked delicious meals on the stovetop and in the oven. The door from this room to the kitchen was quite low. John didn't have to duck but many of our friends did including Phil who was well over six feet tall, he also had to dodge the flush light fitting in the kitchen.

We loved this cottage, it was John's home, but never mine, I preferred to think of it as my retreat. John named it 'Cosy Cottage'. Le-Anne carved a sign to hang across the garden arch near the front gate. It surely was a 'Cosy Cottage'.

Mark and Shane surprised us by installing a flagpole one weekend we weren't there, replacing the feeble stick John used to fly a flag on. John had a variety of flags, traditional, RAAF, fishing, sporting, which he'd hang to suit the occasion, if he didn't have an appropriate flag for an occasion I made one.

It seemed as soon as we arrived at Moonta we were bombarded with visitors. How is this so?

"Hi! We know you are in residence; your flag is flying."  
We learned to wait until we were ready to receive guests before we raised the flag, we relished in the privacy of 'Cosy Cottage'.

We not only transformed Cosy Cottage; in a way we transformed the street which was the main road into Moonta. Xmas time there were no lights at North Yelta it was dark and dull so John decorated the cottage and the yard with sparkling flashing colored Xmas lights with Santa coming out the chimney, each year he added more to the display creating much interest from passer bys. It sparked the village into action, soon others decorated their homes, each year more homes were decorated.

As the years passed North Yelta became a showcase entry into Moonta. John was so proud of himself for brightening up our village and I was so proud of him as well.

Stripping wall paper living room / Living room note the Metters stove and drawings on the plastered wall

Me painting and tanning. The front parlour

Cosy Cottage as John sold it Cosy Cottage as he bought it.

One night we arrived at the cottage late in the evening, to our surprise under the back verandah John's RAAF friends Maurice and Madeline were sound asleep in the portable hammocks they had dragged in from the yard, they were quite comfortable and happy to have slept the night there if we weren't home, instead we all enjoyed toasting the cottage with champagne until they finally went to bed in the guest bedroom.

Next morning we relaxed over a late breakfast, Maurice was wearing his man's checked sarong he had bought in Thailand so John also donned his. Wouldn't you know it? Our English neighbors came over and were later heard to say.

"Oo Aar. Them's strange thems new neighbors we got moved into our village, the men are wearing tablecloths."

We were so much in love nothing was a chore. John was doing most of the cooking and I was putting on weight, he force fed me, and I loved it. Everybody commented "How well and happy you look."

"Thanks. You mean I'm getting fat! But! Yes I am very happy."

I knew something real good had to come out of all the very bad I had been through, and Hey Presto I would never had dreamed of this much happiness being possible for me. I was living my dreams and everything I had ever wished for. How easy life love and perfect happiness is when with Mr. Right. I did SO wish all Alana Lee members could meet their 'perfect match', in fact I sincerely wished everyone could meet their 'perfect match'.

I now had time to smell the roses. I was feeling happy. I realised for the last few years I hadn't allowed myself to feel anything. I had kept myself busily occupied in order to block out hurtful and detrimental feelings, so much so I had blocked out all feelings whilst I was intent on not becoming depressed or morbid. I certainly had managed never to be sad or sorry for myself but I realised though I managed to avoid those destroying feelings I never felt happy either, or hungry or sated, or even hot or cold, John had opened a door for me into a wonderful feeling world.

I was feeling so much love, it was in the air; love was everywhere. I felt the love from everyone who surrounded me as well as many other feelings I had successfully suppressed during my quest for survival in my marriage and at being single again.

It was a feat of ultra-superior management to wangle the running of the Academy and Alana Lee while renovating the cottage, I don't know how I did it, but it worked. I enjoyed being with John and wanted to spend more time with him.

The Instructors at the Academy were very loyal and capable, so capable I offered them a deal to lease the business off me. This worked, it allowed me free time I hadn't wanted before I met John. I embraced this new found freedom with gusto. I loved being with John. I felt incomplete without him by my side.

We thought we'd try a short caravan holiday, John said if we could get on living in the confined space of a caravan for six weeks we'd get on forever. I was wary because John's licence was suspended I would have to do the driving and if I had to drive I insisted it had to be in my car; luckily I insisted putting the tow bar on it. I felt hamstrung without being able to pull a trailer. I still do. I feel complete with a tow bar enabling me tow at my will.

We took off for Eyre Peninsular the old cumbersome caravan eclipsing my 280ZX. I am a capable and competent driver but I don't like driving long distances so we stopped at all the seaside towns along the way, staying for as long as we chose, sometimes we only travelled a hundred kilometers a day which was fine by me.

What a wonderful holiday it was. We left Moonta drove north to Pt Augusta and south down to Pt. Lincoln then west along the coast of Eyre Peninsular to Ceduna where mum lived, and on to Roger's farm nearer Penong staying at each beachside village in van parks as near the ocean's edge as possible. John drove and parked the van once we arrived at the park. It only took ten minutes to set up the van then we'd go fishing from the shore or the jetty.

John proved to be an excellent fisherman but couldn't fillet fish (same as I can't cook I suspect!!) I was happy to fillet. I had taught myself to fillet the many fish Poppa caught for us when my children were very young. I knew fish was good for the kids so I learned to fillet making sure there were no bones in the fish I served them.

Fish caught, cooked and eaten within a few hours is a dining experience. We enjoyed many such meals always accompanied with an appropriate bottle of wine or two. We both enjoyed our wine and looked forward to 'Happy Hour' every night collapsing into bed too relaxed (or drunk) to make love, we'd wake refreshed each morning then make love.

We spent time with mum at Ceduna and at the farm with Roger and Angie. I offered to help Angie do the milking, I had to help mum with the milking when I lived on the farm before I left home I was confident I could still milk. What a shock I got, the long false fingernails I had been wearing for a few years completely prohibited me from firmly squeezing the tits, I couldn't extract a single drop, and besides that the large gold rings I had on each finger hurt the cow. I gave up. Confirmed - I knew I was never meant to be a farmer's wife.

We left the van at the farm and drove to Clare Bay where Roger had built a shack on top of the cliff overlooking the bay. This shack only accessible along a rough dirt track through private property was a lined shed furnished simply with donated second hand items, a sink, a large open cupboard under the window ideal for a workbench, an old kitchen dresser, a kerosene fridge, a small gas stove, an old Formica table and chairs, four double bunks and a 400 gallon water tank.

There were no mod cons, no phones, no power and no water. All the water had to be carted in by the occupants as they stayed there, this ensured there was no water wastage. Roger had fashioned a shower under a lean to on the outside of the shack, a scrap of lino to stand on protected our feet from the sand. The shower, a bucket which Roger had soldered a shower head and tap into the bottom of with detailed instructions on how to use it hung from the rafter. Instructions for shower:- lift off its cradle, half fill with warm water "that's all you should need" pop it back into its cradle, turn the tap on enough to wet yourself then off while you soap yourself; turn it on again to rinse off. It was surprising how well this crudely crafted shower worked.

The toilet was a typical Aussie Dunny built well away from the shack, a long drop, long enough for the 'doings' to drop far enough down and be sprinkled with ash after each use so as not to smell too officious.

We collected mallee roots along the way and had a continual campfire on which we did all our cooking and heated all our water in a billy can. We never once used the gas stove to boil the kettle or cook meals; unless you have drunk 'billy tea' you haven't tasted a real cuppa.

We caught more than enough fish from the beach or the rocks nearby; we never tired of freshly caught fish and cooked on a campfire is a diner's experience sadly many folks never get to sample. We didn't touch the free-range meat Angie insisted we take with us from the farm; she had underestimated John's fishing skills. As basic as this shack was we loved it and so did many others, the visitor's book was proof, its many entries made interesting reading.

My ZX and van at Whyalla on Eyre Peninsular. Flinders Ranges on the other side of Spencer Gulf.

We slowly and reluctantly made our way back to Moonta; this holiday had cemented our relationship even more. I relished the opportunity to take a step back from myself and assess myself. I was discovering 'feeling' again. I even enjoyed feeling hot and cold, it was such a luxury to have time to notice my feelings and accept them for what they were. I discussed these feelings with John he absolutely understood.

We just loved being in each other's company and talked nonstop, we literally bared our souls to each other, there was not a single thing we couldn't discuss, yes, even our indiscretions. John had been as deceitful as I in our previous marriages, we both realised we were unconsciously forced into these indiscretions through non compatible partners. We understood how each other felt, we also knew that we wouldn't be able to cheat on each other we could easily detect any deceitful actions. I had no intentions of ever cheating again. I knew there would be no need to.

John often mentioned marriage. I wasn't keen at all, I liked our relationship the way it was besides he drank more alcohol than was good for him, more than I thought was necessary, I found myself swept up in the fever of love and was soon drinking along with him, we were both so happy we didn't realise how much we did drink. I had previously limited myself to sharing one bottle, John always opened a second and third, we drank till we fell asleep obviously drunk. I know I woke up with many hangovers.

"Why!Oh!Why! did we open that second... and third bottle?"

I tried to only drink one bottle, but John insisted opening the second... the third... saying "you don't have to drink it."

Of course I did... another hangover.

John was a happy social drinker, the happier he became the more he drank and the more his personality changed the less he could remember. I being the driver had to curb my alcohol intake so much so that I was sober enough to see how ridiculously John behaved. I knew if he could only see himself when drunk he would be appalled, because his normal persona was what he was... a proud upstanding competent Officer in the RAAF.

I loved the sober John which was most of the time including the happy hour we shared each night, the following hours as we contentedly chatted and drank... and drank... John's personality changed, not unpleasantly but rather to a happier extraverted authorative 'know it all;'' in hindsight I may have got as drunk as him. I know we both totally relaxed and fell sleep soon after dinner most nights.

It had never occurred to me the destructive effects alcohol could have on a person. Bill and my boys drank heaps more than John and never once did I ever see them obviously drunk. It was an awakening for me to realise different effects alcohol can have on people. John was obviously a person who shouldn't drink to excess, his character totally changed into a person he would have been disgusted with, the pity was he never had any recollection of his actions when he reached this drunken state.

I overcome the problem on many occasions we were out by suggesting we go home early; John was always prepared to leave when I suggested especially with the hint of a promise of what awaited us at home, which was a fallacy for he always fell asleep... but always made up for it in the mornings.

This strategy worked when we were out, but when we were entertaining at home John being a generous host partied hard into the night supplying a seemingly endless supply of good bottles of wine or spirits or the delicious port he brewed in his port barrel with all present being swept along by his generous hospitality resulting in everyone becoming very happy and totally smashed and waking very hung over. Many great gatherings were enjoyed and hangovers suffered at Cosy Cottage.

John sometimes drank so much he put himself in danger by unruly behavior and falling over. I couldn't consider marrying a man who behaved in the manner John did when under the influence of alcohol and worse still not even realising the extent of his drunken actions. Next morning with a sober mind it seemed trivial to enlighten my sober esteemed gentlemanly Officer of his stupidity.

I was so desperate to make John see how stupidly he acted when drunk I bought a video camera to film him and show him how he behaved after a few drinks. I felt sure he would be appalled and ashamed of his behavior and curb his excessive drinking. WRONG! He refused to watch the evidence. I never wasted the camera. I have an extensive coverage in film of our wonderful times together.

John eventually gave up talking marriage saying "Alright I'll never ask you again. You'll have to ask me if you want to get married."

Neither of us liked the cold weather. We decided to head north during the winter at every opportunity. The RAAF had many exercises in Darwin, John was asked to take part in Pitch Black. One of his star subordinates was now the Senior Air Traffic Controller and Search and Rescue Officer whose yard we parked our van in on the Darwin RAAF Base. I loved it on the Base; I loved the tropics, the climate, the palms, the greenery, especially Darwin in winter, it was so warm and balmy and the sun setting over the ocean was a spectacular sight.

Our travels through Australia in our van revealed to me what a wonderful scenic beautiful diverse country we live in, I had no idea Australia was so beautiful and so different to Eyre Peninsular and the Nullarbor Plain where I was brought up. I was amased by the beauty of inland Australia, a wonderment to me. Albert Namatjira had captured it perfectly in his paintings. For some reason I had assumed the inland of Australia was a dryer version of the Nullarbor Plain.

While John was at work on the base I lazed and swam in the pool. I was in my element and as transpired useful... I was invited (because they needed many hands) to wait on the airfield as Americans flew in huge BG52 Bombers which needed parachutes to open behind them on landing enabling them to stop; it was our job to race onto the tarmac to retrieve the parachutes before the next Bomber landed. I felt it an honor assisting these huge machines to land.

Another exercise I witnessed was a lost plane, it had disappeared somewhere in the Top End. John's friend being the Search and Rescue Officer coordinated the search from his lounge room floor, where we all knelt and pored over the maps spread across the floor. I watched in awe as the plane was traced and the rescue planned using sheer practicality and commonsense. It worked; the missing plane and occupants were safely rescued. It was great to witness commonsense prevailing.

John accepted all the offers to work on the exercises in Darwin we were always prepared to make the trek north we both loved it there and the drive up through Australia's picturesque inland.

I sun baked on the beaches, even though the locals warned me to beware of crocodiles: I didn't believe them.

I sought out the squash courts and was welcomed to play social squash with the local players as they practiced, even though the courts were air conditioned I felt the humidity, I didn't have the same stamina I had in South Australia.

The sunsets over the ocean were so spectacular, each night many people gathered to watch this spectacle from the grounds of the Diamond Point Casino.

I loved the Casino we spent time there taking in the entertainment activities. I cheekily enjoyed sun baking by the resort pool even though I knew I was taking liberties. I was startled when a shadow loomed over me as I lay relaxed by the pool, a steward, oops I thought this is it, he's going to move me on "Would you care to order something from the bar ma'am?"

"Thank you! A gin tropical please."

I didn't worry anymore about trespassing. The thought crossed my mind to book the drink up to a room number. Of course I didn't.

John and I spent much of our time holidaying, for me it was wonderful to have a compatible companion to share the wonders of holidaying and we were compatible in every way; he didn't drink to excess when we were travelling, I don't think... I always drank with John each day at happy hour sharing our new found companionship and happiness; we were oblivious to everyone and everything and always went to bed contented and happy.

Our kids and friends were so happy for us, and often asked "why don't you get married?"

"We like having honeymoons, and when we get it right we'll think about marriage."

My kids liked John and his family especially Pedro. The boys all enjoyed a beer together, lots and lots of them; they could hold their liquor better than John and often had to put John to bed. Mark had warmed to me because of his mate ship with John. Life was good.

Mark had just finished a relationship with a lady who had an eight year old son, Shane's girlfriend Lorita had moved into the Hectorville home with him, Bill also lived there though independently in part of the house he sectioned off.

Mark had bought a secondhand truck and water tanker; he transported natural spring water from the Adelaide Hills to the budding spring water industries as well as running Hoad Woodcarving Factory. One day Mark rang "Mum! Congratulations you are going to be a grandma!"  
How can this be so? Who is making me a granny?  
Shane and Lorita were living together, was it them?  
Leanne was in a distant relationship with a previous boyfriend, was it her?  
Mark had broken up with his girlfriend a few weeks prior, couldn't be him!

Mark explained; he was driving his fully loaded water truck when he got a call on his car radio from his X girlfriend.

"Congratulations! You are going to be a dad."

"OMG".

"I had to pull over to absorb the news. I reached over and got a stubby out of the truck fridge, I needed it. She doesn't want me to go back to her she is only asking for financial support, she wants a car, so I'll give her the 'mission bus." Mark blurted out.

I was wary of the timing of this news and wondered how Mark would handle the situation. He was proud to become a dad, he was awaiting the babies arrival with anticipation though he and the mother agreed to remain just friends: this lass only wanted financial support, she already had a nine year old lad who was financially supported by his father.

Spring water was becoming popular and I could understand why, Adelaide tap water was discolored and tasted awful. The locals accepted the state of the water and installed rainwater tanks to compensate, but the immigrants and those living in apartments relied totally on spring water for drinking. I would never have believed such a lucrative business could develop from water.

Mark was a pioneer of the spring water industry in Adelaide: his advice was sort from many when they started their bottling factories. Mark was so busy he was forced to leave much of the Academy work to the staff. The water business grew. Shane decided to capitalise on it as well, he bought a contract with a small bulk delivery truck and delivered to Adelaide homes and businesses in twenty litre containers which he filled from a tanker on his truck.

Who would have thought these humble beginnings of which Mark and Shane were pioneers would develop into the massive spring water industry of today. Mark eventually bought a property in the Adelaide Hills with natural springs, he still supplies the industry with his up to date state of the art prime movers tankers and equipment.

Le-Anne was friendly again with a previous boyfriend; she was under so much pressure in Ballarat I was pleased he was there to support her. I worried about her coping with such hopeless prospects; so when she told me they had closed the Academy and sold the property I knew it was the best solution, the only solution. Bill, now the sole owner had to face reality and accept that this Academy wasn't profitable, not even with it freehold could they survive. This freehold property was owned solely by Bill as part of our settlement. I knew he would be happy to sell it, he needed the money to live on.

I (and Alana Lee) was still ably paying for that property through the mortgage on my Norwood property which Bill didn't think was possible for me to achieve. Wrong! I worked my butt off.

The Ballarat property which we excitedly bought in good faith in prosperous times only caused distention and stress; so much so it contributed to our marriage breakdown leaving me with the responsibility of paying it off, as well as the extra 'play' money we borrowed at the same time. What a cash windfall for Bill. He did very well out of me. Well that help is now dried up. I wonder who the next unsuspecting wonder lady will be?

Contrary to Bill's predictions I (and Alana Lee) was able to clear this loan. I knew I could do it if I had full control of the businesses especially the purse strings.

A run down Strata Title villa on a corner of Magill Rd at Kensington Gardens was bought with money from the sale of the Ballarat property; it was strata titled being the original home with five small strata titled units added in recent years on the extensive back yard fronting the side street. The original villa was condemned as unfit for tenants but owners could live there.

Le-Anne lived in it and slowly, very slowly, as finances allowed, renovated. Le-Anne could put her hand to anything and she proved her skills as she alone physically made this home livable and attractive alleviating the condemned order so she could lease out a room to counteract expenses.

Le-Anne decided to attend University as a mature age student and study music, her instrument being voice. Bob Lemke in Ballarat had developed Le-Anne's voice into a deep rich contralto, now living in Adelaide she wanted to further her studies in music.

These years were very hard for Le-Anne, but in her true grit style she persevered through Uni, letting rooms in her home and obtaining casual work where-ever to pay the bills. She changed the spelling of her name to Leanne, she said it was easier. I thought 'Leanne' was rather mundane, but didn't offer my opinion. _Now all these years later I absolutely understand why; I realise now as I write my memoirs 'Le-Anne' is a chore to write, Leanne is so much easier._

John suggested while his driver's license was suspended we have a holiday in Asia. He had lived in Penang while in the RAAF and wanted to show me 'his Asia'. I loved the idea. How exciting! John offered to organise six weeks of rail and air travel through Asia starting in Singapore, then Malaysia, Thailand and China.

I only had to pack my bags, pay half of the cost and get on a plane bound for Singapore. This would be the first holiday I had ever been on that I never had to completely organise, I was very happy to pay my way and leave it all to John. I was besotted by him; he was a wonder man. How lucky was I to find him? I pinched myself every day to see if I was in a dream. I wasn't. It was all for real. What had I done to deserve such happiness and good luck in meeting John?

Our social life was full on. Everyone flocked to us, and invited us into their fold. My friends loved John and I was warmly welcomed into John's family and friends fold. Life was just so rich full and worthwhile. We planned our holiday for the winter of 1989 when it would be summer in Asia, warm balmy days which we loved, especially when it was cold and miserable in South Australia.

We both loved our nightly 'happy hours', we solved not only our and our previous spouses problems but also the problems of the world. John was a happy drunk, ridiculously so, and such an extroverted know all. I thought he was so worldly wise and just loved him so much, we enjoyed each other's company and celebrated our happiness to extremes resulting in terrible hangovers. John suffered painful attacks after excessive drinking bouts so severe at times I had to take him to the doctor or hospital where he expected sympathy because he was ' _unwell_ ', but no diagnosis was ever found.

The final straw for me was after a great weekend of 'relly raging' (gathering of our families) at the cottage, John was sure he was having a heart attack, insisting I get him to emergency at the local hospital immediately. It was a Sunday afternoon I had no idea where or if emergency cases were admitted to the small rural hospital at all let alone Sundays.

We had no phone so I quickly drove him to the hospital where the caring nurse popped a pill under his tongue, did many tests that proved there was nothing wrong with his heart.

There were many similar rushed trips to the hospital or doctor where John expected sympathy love and care; tests always came back okay.

I was sure the attacks were caused by excessive alcohol because they always occurred after heavy drinking sessions. John couldn't see my reasoning even so I insisted he shouldn't drink so much, in fact I sincerely believed he wouldn't have these attacks if he curbed his drinking. I was sure after a few episodes like this and lots of nagging I could convince him it was excessive alcohol that caused these attacks.

I would never consider marrying John if he continued drinking to such extremes. I told him so in no uncertain terms even though I loved him to absolute destruction... when sober.

We were both were turning fifty within two weeks of each other in January/February 1990. We planned a huge centenary birthday party to be held in the Officers mess at the RAAF Base at Edinburgh, a formal silver service dinner/dance giving our friends the opportunity to dress in the clothes they claim they never got a chance to wear; well, we'd give them that chance, as well as entry into the restricted confines of the RAAF Base.

I knew my friends and family would be blown away with the party we could provide in this unique 'off limits' (to civilians) venue.

Our thoughts went further with 'what if' schemes.

'What if'... If we still felt the same way towards each other when we turned fifty next year we'd consider springing a surprise wedding at this centenary birthday party?

We wouldn't tell a soul and if we decided against marriage we'd simply have a birthday party as planned.

Time blissfully passed, John didn't over indulge in alcohol since I convinced him his pain attacks always followed a binge of drinking. We always left a function before he 'lost it' and got stupidly drank. We always went to bed early when home alone.

When we had visitors John would happily 'loose it' and have repercussions; proving my point! I believed John realised he couldn't drink so much therefore marriage was a probable proposition for me.

I couldn't stand being apart from him.

We grew more and more in love.

I loved John to destruction as I know he did me because he continually told me so and everyone else who would listen.

As time went on we became even more compatible, it seemed the natural process to marry. I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with John so why not make it a total legal commitment.

I rationalised to myself 'if we changed in the next twenty years as we each had with our former partners of twenty plus years, we'd be seventy years old and not likely to want to change partners again at that age, besides I knew we were both stayers, we both would have stayed in our previous marriages and made the most of it, it was our partners who wanted us out and instigated our separations.

How lucky were we?

We both thank them very much for that gesture.

Alana Lee was four years old, it was becoming a burden on me, I didn't need Alana now, but I owed it to Alana's members to carry on this successful concept. I knew it would be a salable proposition.

I advertised to sell; some lucky person could benefit from this profitable business and provide an on-going service to its many life members. I was taken by surprise when Pam said she'd like to buy it. I confidently told her "This is business I can sell to a friend with sincere knowledge knowing it is a good honest business, and we can remain friends through it all."

We agreed on a price. I offered to help her through the next three months to show her how I successfully managed it; then she would pay me the agreed amount. I would be free to go on our Asian holiday without having to consider Alana Lee. I didn't take a deposit, we were friends.

During the three months of training I was concerned when Pam repeatedly said "I won't be doing all that."

'All that' was what made the business so successful, many phone calls and organising skills were mandatory. I think Pam expected to sit idle and wait for the calls to come in... and the money.

In the three months, because Pam wasn't prepared to do 'any of that' the function numbers had dwindled to an unprofitable few. Pam's personal life had also changed which altered her enthusiasm in the business. I asked her for payment as per our agreement.

It wasn't until the night before we were leaving for our Asian holiday Pam sheepishly approached me, saying she had spoken to her financial adviser who said the business was only worth 10% of the agreed amount which was all she was prepared to pay or alternatively I could have the business back.

I was stunned, and cornered.

I had no alternative but to accept the 10% offer. I wanted to be free of Alana Lee to get on with my life, besides tomorrow we were leaving the country for six weeks. I had made no preparations for any future events. I had left that to Pam who hadn't followed my instructions.

I in good faith had sold this successful business to Pam never believing she could run it down so quickly, simply by not putting an effort into each function.

I accepted without grace 10% of the original agreed purchase price saying "I sold you a successful business in good faith, and because of your inefficiencies you caused it to run down then have the cheek to tell me it's only worth 10% of our agreed price."

They were the last words I ever spoke to Pam.

I heard Pam closed Alana Lee soon after. I felt so sorry for its many members; it was such a shame that someone more worthy didn't buy it. I should have remembered Uncle Stan's (a successful businessman) philosophy

"There are no friends in business."

How true!

Although I was disappointed at the demise of Alana Lee and losing a friend we had a dream holiday. Six weeks of Asia with John was another absolute wonderment for me, he was a very competent host understanding the culture and the language. We stayed at exotic hotels and did all the touristy things and a lot of non-touristy stuff due to John's privy knowledge.

Starting in Singapore he showed me a different Singapore than the one I visited with Alana. China Town where I went mad buying jewelry and Pat Pong which opened my eyes. I couldn't believe such 'goings on' could be so readily flaunted, never the less I was determined to witness the full extent of the many sexual activities so proudly displayed.

We travelled north via train and air, cautiously through Malaysia where two Australians were in jail on death row for carrying drugs into the country.

John had warned me the Malaysians were rather hostile people, but we were pleasantly surprised, they were all very friendly. The Government was promoting tourism and had encouraged the people to be extra friendly to tourists; they were.

We enjoyed Kuala Lumpa staying in a five-star seaside hotel a few doors from a squash court where I found opponents to play with. John treated me to a romantic candlelight dinner for two on the ocean's edge near our hotel, with our own waiter and chef. I was floating.

We visited the RAAF base at Penang where John relived many fond memories from his RAAF service days. He had a new summer mess kit tailored for him; the tailors knew the style required for the RAAF; they did a great job in the limited time we were there. This kit would be worn at our 'centenary birthday party' or maybe wedding!

John had many good memories of Thailand having served there with the RAAF in the sixties and wanted to share them with me insisting we stay at the Nana hotel where he stayed when visiting Bangkok, this humble hotel was situated right in the middle of the city near to everything. During the afternoons in front of the hotel the streets were lined with stalls where an astute bargainer could afford to shop till they dropped. John taught me to unashamedly bargain and the tactics used to win the deal.

I was amased when suddenly one afternoon a huge tropical storm flooded the streets, the stall holders quickly covered their goods as everyone ran for shelter including us, we raced back to our room, the power had gone off, there was nothing to do but make love which we did, deliciously climaxing to the roar of the thunder (another new experience for me).

The rained stopped as quickly as it started, we ventured outside and to my surprise the water had all drained away and the stalls had resumed their trading as if nothing had happened. John said a tropical storm was a common occurrence most late afternoons in the tropics: I had never experienced anything like it.

The hotel's nightclub 'The Love Club' was another eye opener for me witnessing the Thai girls 'at work' and see how easy it was for them to win their man. It was especially interesting next morning to see who came to breakfast with whom and observe the body language of the couples...or trios!

The volume of traffic in Bangkok astounded me, the drivers of the cars and busses were so competent. I wondered if they ever had accidents so I asked a taxi driver, he looked at me as if I was mad.

"Of course not!"

We did all the touristy things, visited temples, palaces, gardens, parks, animal shows, 'cousins' specialty shops and many silk factories. My favorite by far were the elephants, I fell in love with these huge gentle giants.

I was intrigued by the silk making factories displaying silkworms producing silk as workers were hand weaving the fresh spun silk on huge looms. I couldn't believe how little the finished fabrics sold for. I would buy enough to make my centenary birthday frock plus enough to add an attached train should we decide to marry. I chose a white silk woven alternately with a gold thread.

"No!" I was informed I couldn't have that combination; it was reserved for the Royal Family.

"Damn!"

John had a quiet chat to a person in charge, resulting in me ordering seven metres at $27 a metre (four times the original price) to be collected at a specific time and location (so as not to be seen).

John knew a manufacturing jeweller near the Nana who only opened his shop to special customers by appointment. He remembered John, unlocked and let is in, and locked up behind us. John suggested we have our rings made here; they would be much cheaper than in Australia.

John inspected a selection of diamonds through his loupe and chose two identical 42pts diamonds, one each to be made into our individual rings. We discussed designs, both rings would be similar except John's would be chunkier, his diamond was set in the same amount of gold as in my engagement ring and a wide wedding band. The cost was so reasonable we each bought heavy gold bracelets and neck chains as well.

We flew to Phuket, although it was a favored holiday destination for Australians I wouldn't bother going there again. John told me Thai girls were very special, not only beautiful but genteel and devoted to pleasing a man; they were taught all the tricks of how to please a man at a young age. They prolifically 'sold' their wares on the beaches outside our tourist resort, they weren't allowed to enter the grounds of the resorts, consequently while on the beach we were continually propositioned by them for one thing or another. John noticed these Phuket woman weren't so pretty and well past their used by date, he ascertained "it must be the home of the older whores."

My favorite Thai city was Chang Mai in north Thailand. We visited mountain villages mixing with the locals and witnessing elephants at work in the mountains. I was mesmerised by these beautiful creatures, we could walk safely amongst them, feed and touch them without fear.

This city was filled with many craft shops, the furniture shops were of special interest to me the carved works so elaborate and cheap, I dreamed of how we could utilise this furniture into our Academy. That's all it was... a dream.

This whole holiday had been a dream for me and we had bought most of our requirements for our birthday/wedding at ridiculously low prices; we figured we'd saved enough on our purchases to pay for the holiday.

Flying back to Australia loaded with our goodies we felt pretty smug; we had set the ball in motion for our wedding. We had to declare our purchases and pay duty on excess over our allowance, so we wore our rings, neck chains and bracelets, trying to make them look dull with makeup and lotions.

We were so excited we wanted to shout our secret to the world. An American lady in the adjoining seat seemed a likely candidate to confide in, she wasn't staying in Australia so there was no chance of her giving our secret away. We excitedly told her of our plans, showed her our jewellery and how we had tried to make it look old "Well you haven't succeeded." she said.

She was thrilled we shared our joy with her and sincerely wished us all the best.

Back home I found the Academy running smoothly, the students all happily attending classes and producing great furniture, the instructors were happy the with leasing arrangements. I was happy to not have so many responsibilities and commitments; I simply wanted to spend time with John. Of course they all wanted to hear about our holiday: when I asked if any of them had been to Pat Pong?

One very dignified lady answered quickly "Say NO!"

"Now I know you have been there." I said to her.

I had intended to say to those that admitted visiting Pat Pong that they 'had been up to no good too!'

I was so sad when I heard of Alana Lee's demise. I felt so for all her members. Why had I trusted a friend? I should have treated the sale of Alana in a more professional way.

The kids were happy John and I were happy, they questioned us often about getting married, we told them we were happy 'honeymooning' and when we got it right we'd consider marriage.

The date we decided for our 'centenary birthdays' was February 10th, 1990 the day before my birthday and 12 days after John's. We had six months to prepare for this party though secretly we were potentially planning a wedding, but no-one must know.

John said we must tell our mums or they may have heart attacks at such a sudden surprise. No way! Telling our mums would be like telling the world. The only way to keep a secret is to tell no-one.

John was beside himself with excitement, I knew I'd have to watch him closely especially when he had a few drinks, many times it was necessary to give him a stern glare.

I designed and made my birthday gown. I had four meters left over which I fashioned into a detached train I could easily attach for 'the wedding' and designed to un-attach and make another garment after the 'wedding'. I made a small head veil which I would attach to a coronet of fresh flowers; I made a garter and good luck charms to hang on my arm from Fleur and DD. I also made a bridal cake decoration to secretly add to the two 'birthday' cakes Laura was making for us.

John booked the Officers Mess for the night and a five-course birthday dinner, he didn't mention 'wedding'. We booked a music man to play incidental music and music for dancing during the dinner and into the night. Leanne offered to do the flowers and Lorita write the calligraphy invites and menus by hand, both of them so often flippantly quipped "This is just like getting ready for a wedding."

We didn't want any presents, so asked everyone to PYO. Pay your own. We asked for each to pay $20.00 except our families, John would pay for them and the balance of the costs of the food and wine. We wanted this party to be relaxed and nothing like a wedding, there would be no photographer though we wanted natural shots of the guests, we asked Fred our professional photographer friend if he would take a few casual shots during the evening.

Angie offered to make the twin birthday cakes which Laura decorated.

John's mate Phil Lamb agreed to be Master of Ceremony and also sing, he is an accomplished tenor.

We wanted Leanne to sing during the ceremony, but we couldn't tell her it was a wedding.

"We'd like you to sing at an emotional moment during the speeches. Can you handle it?"

"Mum! Of course I can."

"It could be very emotional. We'd like you to sing 'Through the Eyes of Love' and start singing unannounced at a specific time. Can you manage that?"

"Muuum. Of course I can."

We wanted the whole evening on video, we especially wanted to capture the reactions of all our friends and family when they realised they were at a wedding, so we had to let the video person in on our secret, also the music man who had to prepare appropriate music. We chose two professional guys who didn't know us, we swore them to secrecy; they were as excited as we were.

I anonymously rang a few Marriage Celebrants until I found one I felt would be able to not only handle this unusual party but enhance the 'surprise'. These three people were the only folks we confided in. I found out later John simply couldn't contain himself he had told Phil who bless his heart hadn't told a soul.

John and I were excited at the prospect of springing this surprise on our family and friends who were excited to be invited to the Officers Mess and the opportunity to dress formal. John had a dinner suit that fitted Pedro. Mark and Shane happily hired white tuxedo's, they enjoyed the staff fussing over them as they were being fitted, even though they felt ridiculously self-conscious walking through the Adelaide Arcade in their steel capped work boots as they clicked their way along the marble floors to the hire shop straight from work.

I made Le-Anne's long strapless fitted gown and matching above the elbow fitted mittens out of sky blue pure silk I had seen being spun and woven and brought back from Thailand.

The kids hired a limousine for the night as a birthday present for us, on condition they could all travel with us. Great! On our wedding night? So we booked the Chelsea suite at the Oberoi Hotel in North Adelaide to spend the night, we didn't want to go back to Norwood in a limo... with an entourage.

All was pretty much organised, there had been no proposal. John had been curbing his alcohol intake mainly because it made him so ill; even so I knew I couldn't live without him. I wanted to marry him for the man he mostly was, the legless drunk he became after too much alcohol intake hadn't appeared since he realised too much alcohol caused him severe stomach pains, so I figured I had better propose.

John had kept his word, he hadn't asked me again to marry him, it was up to me.

I chose one of our favorite holiday spots, Roger's isolated shack at Clare Bay. I set the camera with the timer set on the bonnet of John's car and asked him to stand on the edge of the cliff, with the setting sun over the horizon reflecting in the still water of the beautiful Clare Bay... I popped the question.

"I love you so much and I can't stand being apart from you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?"

"Yes!"

The timer went off on cue. — See pic.

Returning to Moonta after a time away was bitter sweet, sweet to be back, bitter about the over grown garden. We had cleared the block of rubbish and weeds, as the rains came so did the weeds including a healthy looking plant we had no idea what it was, it was spread all over the yard, far too many to pull out. Imagine our surprise when arriving home the yard was ablaze with yellow. Sunflowers!

We stood in awe; so did the passersby who stopped and photographed the colorful yard. The automatic sprinkler system John installed ensured the yard was always green and colorful with flowers and vegetables, but strange how unwanted unplanted plants always seem to thrive more than the veggies and flowers so lovingly planted and tended. John worked hard keeping his genuine cottage garden productive and I loved the fresh produce, and the passersby loved the sunflower spectacle.

Xmas would soon be upon us and the 10th February so soon after. Much excitement was shared amongst all our helpers as they each performed their allotted tasks. Regularly some-one said "This is just like getting ready for a wedding!"

We spent a lovely Xmas at Moonta with our families, as usual John cooked a sumptuous feast of traditional fare, the opening of the presents as usual was an anticipated highlight by young and old. John's grandkids were into the new electronic gadget games creeping into the market that played on a television screen, they requested in detail what they wanted, all excessively expensive, John didn't mind, he just marveled at the advancement of children's playthings, and the cost.

I was more practical at gift giving especially to Leanne who was on a restricted budget, I always including huge jars of coffee; one year I gave her a rubbish bin full of horse shit I mucked from a neighbor's stables for her garden which she was delighted with... and so were the stable owners.

We all enjoyed each other's company, at the beach during the day and playing cards and scrabble at night. This holiday period was so special for us with both our families melding as one.

The last week of this decade was busy, busy with last minute details preparing for our Centenary Party.

Leanne being the busiest doing many of the last minute preparations continually commented

"This is just like getting ready for a wedding!"  
I wouldn't mind a dollar for every time she said this. I wouldn't mind a dollar for each time many of our other family members and friends said it.

How could I get this lucky?

I just knew something really really good had to come out of all the bad I had endured, but I could never have imagined anything being this good.

My prayers from my younger years and my every wish in recent years had all been answered.

# Afterword.

I do hope you have enjoyed 'emerging' with me through this the second book of my autobiography. I must say I am quite staggered at what I have written, and I am sorry for those who are totally appalled: even so I felt duty bound to be open and honest especially after questioning Leanne and Shane how much I should reveal?

"Mum you have to write it all."

I put myself back into the zone of the time and poured my heart out exactly as I remembered.

I am not ashamed of my actions.

I am proud of my survival instincts through my dark days.

I felt compelled to 'tell all' and was in no hurry to publish.

Obtaining my OBE this year I feel has given me the right to publish my books

'Eunice Emerged' the third and final book of my autobiography continues directly on from this book.

Join me as I experience my 'second life' (as my kids call it) into the 21st Century and coping with dare I say... "becoming older"... and the 'IT' age.

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