MORE ON SUNDAY SCHOOL

MORE ON SUNDAY SCHOOL

Once a year all the Sunday school kids had a special day.  It was our Anniversary.  This day was special because it was the day we got to show our parents just how much we had learned.  We got into our class groups. We were all up the front of the hall, and everyone could see us.  It was really scarey but at the same time it was cool and exciting.

The service itself was only one stage of the day.  The other thing was it was a total dressup day.  This meant mum  took us into town for a visit to the shoe shop.  The man was really friendly and did everything we asked of him.  There were shoe boxes all over the floor of the shop.  He didn't seem to mind but that was probably because there were 5 girls wanting to be fitted for new Sunday best shoes.  So one way or another he knew he was going to make a sale.  My older sisters were first to have their choices fitted.  We  usually wore black patent leather shiny shoes,  but one of my sisters as i think I said already liked bright colours,  If she couldn't find a pair, she would buy a pair and take them home and use shoe colour and paint them.  The rest of us were quite happy with what they had in the shop.  It was so exciting going home with our new shoes.  We were allowed to put them on for a few minutes when we got home to show dad.  I remember tapping the clicky heels on the floor and feeling real grown up.  They always had a bow on the front, and once I remember one of my sisters had a pair where the bow was on the seam at the back.  They were real way out. 

Then there was the dress.  Even though mum made us some really beautiful dresses, she thought we had to have bought ones for this occasion.  We trooped over the road to the dress shop.  I can't remember what it looked like in this shop, but the man who owned it went to the same church as us, so I guess he looked after us pretty good.  

Ok, so we get to church and sit in our classes.  Each class gets to sing a couple of songs and then the presentations begin.  All year our teachers have kept a record of when we attended Sunday School, and marked it down somewhere.  Also how many times we learned what the message on our weekly ticket said. Once the singing was over and a few prayers said, the prizes started coming.  Us little kids usually got a book with a special  awards sticker in the front.  Our name would be called out and we had to get up and walk to the front and receive it. It was real scarey but we felt very proud.  I remember sometimes for some reason I don't know, some of the older girls and boys got a book but also got a picture.  They were gorgeous.  They looked like they were stuffed and laminated.  They had a doda on the back like a photo frame. I think my sister and I got one one year. We must have been real good that year.  

After the show, there was a big feast out in the back hall.  The people who went to this church, were mostly farmers and their families, so there was always a jolly good feast.  There was everything all at once on this huge table.  Though the food there was great, I must say there wasn't much I didn't see at home.  My mum made jam and relishes from our fruits and vegies, and she was a darn good cook.  We always had wonderful mains and just about every night we had dessert.  We had birthday parties for every one of us and always had a big fruit cake that mum iced, and always put s little doll or something appropriate on the top. We always had a great time.  I miss my mum.  She was the most wonderful lady and the most loving gentle mum I have ever met.

I was talking about her at work the other day, about when she had to go to hospital to have a baby, and I wondered how she got there.  It was miles and miles away, and we had no car. (they were quite rare in our neighbourhood)  So if anyone who reads this, knows the answer, leave a comment please.  Thankyou for your time. Hope you enjoy reading it. Bye for now.  

The Last Few Days.

THE WAY I SEE IT

The last few days have been a little bit up and a little bit down, and just like Robin Hood said, sometimes the ups out number the downs, but not in Nottingham.  (or Kingston)

 Well last week I applied for a job working in the kitchen of a pretty well know  restaraunt.  I had seen this advertised three times before.  Once I rang and told the guy about my experience and stuff, and he said he'd be getting back to me.  Well he FORGOT TO.  So the next time I saw it (which may I say was the following week) I thought i'd try again.  This time he rang me back.  We set an evening when I would go in and have a trial.  It was three days (nights) later.

I turn up and am feeling a little nervous, as you do, trying out for a new job.

I was told the first thing I would be doing if I am the lucky winner, was cleaning the toilets and vaccuming the dining room and bar areas, and washing said floors.  Ok.  I'm shown the vaccume cleaner.  Never seen one like it before.  I'm to carry it on my back.  The guy who works behind the bar has to help me put it on.  I thought it was a funny situation, but he obviously didn't.  I go into the loos and do them.  That done, I move to the dining rom.
Now I don't know if any ones ever seen a bull in a china shop, but that's how I felt.  All the tables are set for the evening meal.  Lovely glasses all set out.  Therein lies my dilemma.  With this contraption on my back, I was finding it difficult to get into the areas which need vacuuming.  Everytime I turned around I had to place my hand on the back of the machine to know where it was headed.  Would be just great if I managed to clear any of the tables of their beautiful glass wear before they had even been used. Fun times.  (And i'd have to clean that mess up as well.)
That finally done, without I'm pleased to report, any breakages, I headed into the kitchen to begin the next stage of my initiation.
The first thing I see is the humungous pile of dirty dishes.  They were obviously not cleaned from lunch, or as I thought whilst cleaning them, a week ago.  Stuff was soooo stuck on I had to scrub them with the steel thingo and even then some things had to be soaked.  No kidding,  the bench was so loaded up, I wondered if I would ever finish this lot before that evenings dishes would begin.  The tap which had only hot water, was a bit wobbly, but I pressed on regardless.  Not knowing where things went, I had to keep asking the chefs.  I began to remember, when I was putting a large plate where I was told to, and the other chef told me it went somewhere else.  Ok, I'm here trying to get a job, so who am I to say, No It Doesn't Go There.  As I was about to put it where is wasn't supposed to go, the nice guy said "that goes under the bench"  I looked at the other guy and gave him a look as if to say, "you are a JERK"  He obviously felt an affinity with me. NOT!  As I was taking stuff out of the dishwasher I would put them on the bench to air dry, as I was told to do, when JERK comes over with an armfull of dirty bowels, and pans, and has the gall to say "Keep this bench clean" And proceeds to stick all this dirty crap on the bench.  At that moment I decided I wouldn't work in the same kitchen with him no matter how much the pay was.
I continued working flat out, and finally finished.  
My next task was to peel potatoes.  Now that sounds ok right?  I was given a 44 gallon drum to fill with spuds, which I had to peel. (Actually  no, but it was a huge bucket full.) Now I suffer from Carpal Tunnel, so I knew this would be fun. Stupid job to apply for you say?  Well probably, but it was evenings and suited me.  Anyway I peeled the spuds and had to fill the bucket with hot water, and as I did the tap got wobblier.  I noticed a small puddle of water gathering on the floor.  I mentioned this the Jerk and Mr nice, and Mr Nice said, it was the connection to the dish washer, so I thought ok, even though I knew otherwise.  I did the spuds, and was told that was it for the night, meanwhile the small puddle was now a huge one.  Mr Jerk asked me to carry the bucket over to the fridge and put it inside.  As I began walking, I realised it weighed a ton.  Mr Nice suddenly appeared and took it off me and put it away. I put a cloth on the floor to mop  up the puddle, and was ready to go.  I said seeya and was thanked by Mr Nice and the bar man, but Mr Jerk said not a thing, so I turned and said "You are an arrogant pig" and left.  He has an ego of huge proportions, and all he does is cook for goodness sake.  As I left I hoped Mr Nice wouldn't be too cheesed off about the tap, but at least I did try to tell him.  I hoped the position would go to someone else.  For once in my life my hope was granted.  So we will see how long it is before the ad is back in the paper.  The thing is though, you never never know, if you never never go.       More from the wonderful world of ME next time.  See Ya.

SUNDAY SCHOOL MEMORIES

One day a man came to our house and told mum he was from a church and he was wondering if some  of us kids would like to go to his Sunday School. This man became a huge part of our lives, right up until his death. When I was little he seemed to be old, but looking back he was probably only 40 or so. 
Mum and dad must have thought it was a good idea, cos my brothers  started going. I didn't go there until later.
For some reason we went to a different church.  We went to the Gospel Hall Church. That was quite fun.  In those days we had to dress up.  You know the whole kit and kaboodle.  From head to toe.  I was always dressed beautifully.  Mum used to sew all my dresses, and they were gorgeous.  I remember one though that she bought.  It was lovely but I must say, my favourite ones were the ones she made.  One I loved was pale pink nylony material, with sort of embossed white roses.  It had a lace collar, puffy sleeves, a full skirt and a beautiful belt that mum tied behind my back.  When tied properly the bow sat perfectly and the rest hung down and looked very girly.  The dress mum  bought was a bluey mauvey color and it was velvet.  Very pretty. It also has a lacey collar and tie belt.  It was pretty.  We wore gloves and they were all lacey and very dressy.  Funny, now you only see little girls wearing gloves when they are being flower girls.  Then of course there was the hat.  Our hats were white or cream with a turned up  brim.  Around the brim was a silk ribbon.  It was sewn around to the back and tied in a bow, but the long trailing bits would hang down our backs. We called these ribbons "hanging downs" quite aptly.  We'd flit our heads round fast back and forth to make the ribbons dance. There was a thin band of elastic which went under our chin to keep our hat on our head.  We had special shoes too.  They were our Sunday best.  Patent leather. All shiney and made a clippy sound when we walked. I remember one of my sisters used to paint her shoes garish colours, like lime and orange.  Apart from that though, we always dressed up and looked like princesses.                                                                Anyway, Sunday School.  We would get all dressed up and a lady would come in her huge car and pick us up and drive us to Sunday School.  Everyone called her Auntie, so we did too.  She was a nice lady from what I remember.  Two of my older sisters made friends with two girls but my sister Janet and myself stayed together at first, until we got brave.  You must understand, where we lived neighbours were few and far between, so we were shy as they come.  Maree made friends with a girl who also had a sister my age and eventually we became friends. (she was the girl who gave me my ginger cat, and who my biggest sister tried to chase home when she came to my house after school one day) and Janet made friends with another girl, so the four of us stuck close together.  When we got to Sunday School we sang songs and then we were put into different groups with a teacher.  We each had a pamphlet we coloured in and had a lesson about the bible.  When class was finished we were given a little memo book and a little ticket.  The ticket had a verse from the bible on it with a pretty picture.  We took the book home and learnt the verse on the ticket and recited it to our teacher the next week.  After Sunday School the grown ups went to church and us kids stayed in this huge room playing.  When church was over there was afternoon tea and then "auntie" would take us home.  I loved going to Sunday School, cos there was never any bullies or anything, it was just fun, and I loved dressing up.      
I havn't finished this yet but it's getting long so i'll finish it later.  Bye for now.  Signing off. Roger that.

MUMS REMEDIES

I remember some of the medicines we were given when we were sick, or to ward off sickness.  
We would have to line up, the oldest first, down the line to little ol' me.  Of course the boys would carry on as if they were taking some vile tasting poison.  They always got the reaction from us girls that they were trying for... The faces they would pull and the groans they made.  They would hang onto their throats and carry on.  We girls  would be terrified of what the stuff would taste like and more terrifying was what the heck would it do to us?  Brothers are amazing.  Honestly, I wonder what their lives would have been like if they were without us mere girls.  We afforded them no end of fun. 

In the days of my childhood, it was automatic for kids to be dosed up on stuff so we wouldn't get your common ailments, including worms.  We had this medicine we had to take so we wouldn't end up scratching our bums in public. I find I see many little kids when I go to town, digging at their backsides, and I have to wonder if the modern mums realise what it is.  Do they understand we are just like kittens.  These little kids need to be wormed, just like kittens...We never had much of a chance of getting to the stage of bum digging, cos mum was very........anal. ( Gotta love that one.)  But put a kid who has been wormed beside a kid who hasn"t, wait for a few minutes and you will definately notice which one needs a dose.

Then there was the Goita? tablets. (If you can correct the spelling, you are welcome)  These were tiny little white pills.  we had to take one every day.  The school gave them out, and the teachers would hand them to us and make sure we took them.  I remember they tasted ok.  Sort of dry and not nasty tasting at all. 
One of our school holidays was coming up and mum got heaps of these pills.  I put mine in a match box so I would not miss out, or mum wouldn't get confused as to who had had theirs.  We obviously had a marvelous holiday, I mean what else could we have on the farm?  One day I noticed I had only a few pills left so guessed it was nearly time to go back to school.  I didn't think to say anything to mum, cos she was the mum and she would know that.  Well apparently I was wrong.  Probably because she had so many unruly kids all home at once suddenly, she lost track of the weeks. I can't remember if the school contacted us or what happened, but I do remember, we had an extra week off school, than every one else, cos mum didn't send us when she was supposed to.  Hey it could happen to anyone.  It happened to me in a sort of way.  When I lived in Victoria, when the Melbourne Cup day came, it was a public holiday.  I moved back to Tassi and when the kids began school, I let them stay home on the Melbourne cup day.  I sent them to school the next day, and was questioned closely as to why they hadn't attended school the day before,  I just said, "Well, it was a public .holiday."  This particular teacher was a bit of  pain and she said to me in no uncertain terms, that actually it was NOT a public holiday in Tassi.  She made it sound like I had kept them home so they could plan a full scale riot for a public holiday for the Melbourne Cup.  Stupid cow.

Anyway. One night when my sisters and  myself (not all of them) were in our bedroom, lights out, looking up at the night sky while we were waiting for tea.  We usually had tea late, cos dad would still be milking.  Well this night I noticed the clouds.  They were black and scarey, and when I voiced  my fears,  my sisters also began to worry.  I think we began to think the world was gunna end that night.  Hopefully after we had tea.  During the days we would play and muck about all over the place.  Down the creek, in the crops, in the ferns, just as long as we were outside, we were happy.  Well here we are thinking the world was about to expire, when I felt something tickling the back of my ear.  I rubbed it a bit and stuff. Then it began to feel wierd.  I asked my bigger sister to look at it.  When we put the light on, there was good news and bad news.  The good news first.  The sky looked just as it always looked at night, once the light was on.  The bad news is, I had a tick on the back of my ear.  AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH Even now, I think ticks are the most horrendous (scorpions come a close second, real close second) things out.  YUK.  I ran out to mum, who was no doubt up to her neck in cooking ingredients, and was no doubt crying.(I would be crying, not mum) Well wouldn't you? She finally understood what the matter was and said I would have to wait for dad to come in, from the cowshed.  Boy o boy. I know i was beginning to feel bad.  I know this tick was sucking my blood and wouldn't stop until he had sucked it all out.  I was fading fast.  Just in the nick of time dad came in and had a look. Yup, he says, its a tick alright.  Be back in a minute and we'll get rid of him.  Next thing I know he lights a match and sizzles my hair and the back side of my damn ear.  I hear this pop sound and a tug, and dad says, that's it, all over, and walks off.  I tell you, I had a nervous breakdown after that, and even to day I can't stand those horrible things.  My daughters little dog had one on her and I got, what mum would call the "screaming meamies"  My  horse had one on him once and my daughter and I would have looked like some mime show.  We were trying to get rid of it, and eventually I dabbed metho on it, and about ten minutes later it dropped off, but yuko.  Horrible still.
My mum was a stickler for getting us our inocultions.  Spelt wrong? I typed it as its sounds.  Anyway this year we went to the town hall with the whole town of children.  The line was soooooo long and I wasn't very old, probably about 5 or 6.  We were all together, and my sisters were pushing and shoving and trying to miss the jab.  I must have heard them saying stuff about the doctor which I clearly didn't understand.  I can see the doctor in my mind as if it was yesterday.  Not a handsome man mark my words.  Not kindly, nor smiley, nor cheery.  He was a boney faced, greazy haired, tall gangly man with  huge needle in his hand.  When it came to my turn, in front of my sisters, (obviously they pushed me in front) he grabbed my upper arm and said something to me.  Can't remember what, but it couldn't have been nice. I can sort of remember what my reply was.  It was something I had heard from my sisters.  I don't know which one.  It wasn't sweet, or angelic.  It wasn't friendly or said in fear.  It was simply something I had heard and knowing my sisters, they were very smart and I know they knew more than me, so I guess I thought I would sound grown up if I said what they had. Only they would never have said it to the doctors face like little ol me!  I was yanked back from the line by mum and got a spanking.  In front of everyone.  Now thats not fair. No one else got a smack. That's the trouble with being the little-est.  You just copy them but don't understand what to say out loud and what not to.  I did get my needle that day, and I believe that because of the trauma I went through, to this day I am terrified of needles.  And I'm going to the dentist in 3 weeks to get the root of  a wisdom tooth out.  The dentist who took the tooth out, forgot the root. Dumb A..    
I'm sure we got cod liver oil too, for something, cos I remember mum always had a spoon full of home made jam at the ready, once we swallowed that horrible stuff.  When we grew up a bit and she gave us aspro or any other medicine in pill form, she would crush it up and mix it into jam or brown sugar.  You know the saying, or the song Julie Andrews sings?  A spoon full of sugar helps the medicine go down.  I can tell you now, she speaks the truth.   
                                           See ya later. 

JUST STUFF TODAY

JUST STUFF TODAY. 

CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS.  I CAN'T TAKE THE CAPITALS OFF THE DAMN COMPUTER. DUNNO WHATS GOING ON.  OH WELL, IF I HAVE TO USE KEYS THAT NEED NOT CAPS LOCK ON THEN IT MAY LOOK  ODD.  IM GUNNA GO AND TRY TO SEE WHATS GOING ON.  I'LL BE BACK, HOPEFYULLY.  Yay !!!!!!!!!  I think I fixed the problem.   I can't remember what I was going to write now, so I will just ramble on until it comes back to me.

The other day I caught the bus home from work and this woman gets on.  She is around my age.  I know I'm not perfect, and I know I don't wear some of the revolting clothes that are the mode of the moment, but I do try to make sure I look reasonably well dressed when I go out in public.  Well I know Snoop Dog (or whatever he goes by these days) wears these and M C Hammer, but they are famous (WHY)  This woman often catches the bus and usually looks well dressed.  This day she is wearing these hideous pants.  Some people  call them harem pants other people call them poo catches.  OK. So you have a vision right?? These are electric purple.  OMG!  Not a good look luv.  Just sayin'............Throw them out!  NOW!

When we are little kids, we like to play with our toys, be it dolls or trucks, lego or dinosaurs.  I  played with my teddy and dolls.  My sister received a guy riding a motor cycle.  It was really cool. It was metalic blue and you wound it up and he would take off and then go in tight circles. We all wanted turns of it, but I can't remember ever having a go. Dad also made her this thing we called a peg board.  It was a bit like a huge notice board, but was covered in small holes.  She also got a bag of wooden pegs.  You put the pegs into the holes and you could make pictures.  That was amazing.  We all got to use that and was just wonderful.  I remember a game I had.  It consisted of  large 6 sided cards. Heptogons or something  There were about 50 or so cards, and you put them to fit together and make all sorts of pictures.  You know when you close your eyes and sometimes you can picture a scent and it reminds you of a good memory?  I can do that and I can smell  the new smell of the cards and the paint on them.  It sounds wierd but gives me a happy memory.  I also got a train.  It was plastic.  The engine carriage was bright lime green, and had a big happy smile moulded onto his face, and his eyes were big and full of wonder, like he was excited about his next trip.  Yes, ok, I sound a bit of a nut, but I don't care.  That train gave me hours of  fun and happiness.  My teddy and my train and I went on many adventures and had many missions to see to.  Sadly when our house burned down, my little train experienced  his last adventure, and sadly the mission of escaping with his life, failed.  I never saw him again.   During this period of my young life, for some reason I decided to make a scrap book.  

As you already know I'm the youngest of seven kids so I am the only one in the family who has never had the joy (or in some cases the jealous horrors) of welcoming a new member to our family.  Maybe that's why, whenever I was asked if I'd like a cat,  I ALWAYS said YES.  I used to love reading through dads Daily Mirrors, after him.  They were your typical newspaper.  Black and white.  No colour.  Well I saw a picture of a baby and asked if I could cut it out, and he said yes.  That was the beginning of my scrap book.  I don't know if I asked for a book or not, but mum gave me a scrap book.  I know it was thick.  I stuck my baby picture in with home made paste.  After that I would look in every magazine that came into our home.  I filled up this book with pictures solely with baby pictures.  Mum got me another book and I started on my second book.  My sisters (two of them) used to ask me to show them my books and we would sit outside and I'd proudly leaf through my pictures with my sisters picking out the cutest or fattest or whatever.  That was really nice of them.  They knew how precious my scrap books were to me and it was lovely of them to spend time like that, with me.  Sadly my scrap books went on the same adventure as my train, and they also didn't survive the mission.  Why did our house burn down?  It would still have been horrible no matter what, but why couldn't we have gotten all our stuff out first???????

This entry isn't what I was originally going to write.  That still eludes me.  Never mind.  These memories make me happy, and that's the main thing.
Hope it makes you smile.  See Ya. 

CHRISTMAS AT OUR HOUSE

CHRISTMAS AT OUR HOUSE

Well on our farm there was a paddock, which we called the Pine Tree paddock.  This being because there was a huge pinetree right in the top corner. It was the biggest one I've ever seen.  Anyway, every Christmas dad would go up there and find a good thick branch and cut it down and  bring it home for our Christmas tree. I remember whenever he brought it inside, it would be too tall for the ceiling , and the top would be scrunched up and bent over to fit.  The house was built with high ceilings so you can imagine how tall the Christmas tree was.  Once it was put into the container,(cant remember what that was) we would get to decorate it.  Mum had some wicked decorations.. I reckon she must have brought them out from England with her cos I have never seen anything like them.  As there were seven kids,  and we all wanted to do the tree trimming, mum had a system put in place,  We would each pick a decoration, and go and line up.  The oldest first and the youngest last.  Of course that was me and if you add being the shortest into the pot, I didn't get to put my stuff where it would be admired.  Typical.  Well I didn't think that at the time, I just loved the pomp and ceremony of the whole thing.  We used to make the paper chains too and the tree would look soooo busy when we finished.  I do remember, though there were a few yelling matches during 

 the event.  It would all go smoothly then eventually, someone would push in when it wasn't their turn and a fight would ensue.  Mum would scream at the top of her lungs at us to be quiet.......... (O no she didn't!  She never screamed at us for anything!  That is what I guess I would have done.)  But by the time it was finished it looked  real good.  Then Dad would climb the ladder and put the angel on the top.  Absolutely brilliant fun and I used to do the same with my girls as they grew up, though I never got a huge tree like the ones we had.  We used to have a few cats that would come inside and sometimes they would get into the tree and ruin the artistic look and mum would have to throw the streamers back any ol how, and find the best places to tie the balls and figurines back on. 

On Christmas morning, us girls, who all slept in one huge bedroom, would be awake when the birds started 

chirping.  We would talk quietly for a while then one of the older girls would yell out to mum.  "Can we come out yet"  Usually we wouldn't hear an answer, until about the tenth time they had yelled.  Mum would come to our door and say "yes it's ok, come out."  We would barge out and look under the tree for our goodies.  When we were young, there wasn't any of the gifts people expect now.  A set of keys for that new car, money for the sons mortgage, A boat.  No, it was soooo much better.  It was something we wanted but also something we could play with for years.  We really were happy with what we got.  Or what Santa brought us.  We would always have a huge Christmas dinner.  In the evenings we would usually have a cold tea, then mum would call us around the tree.  We would sing carols, then she would tell us to sing Jingle Bells really loud.  Sometimes we had to sing it a couple of times then we would hear a bell.  It was just the best thing in the world.  The door would open and Santa himself would be there with a huge sack.  It was bedlam in the room.  We would all be yelling and cheering.  It's a wonder he didn't get scared and run away.  But maybe my mum and him had an arrangement.  (Wink wink)  Christmas tree presents were so much fun.  They were small things.  A special pen, or pretty pad.  Little stuffed teddies.  One year we all got a little plastic farm animal.  They were so gorgeous.  Mine was a little cow and she was gorgeous.  I remember once I got a pad, and the cover was three d, and the plastic cover was sort of done in diamond shapes under another layer of plastic and it was amazing.  Of course every Christmas we got a stocking.  They were the first thing we would see.  Inside would be a little bag of tiny lollies,  These were hard as all get out, and nearly broke our teeth but they tasted good.  There was also a flip pad.  It was stuck together in the middle so the sides were open and you would flip them.  They usually had an acrobat on one side, and a clown doing something silly on the other side, but they were fun.  Also we always got an annual.  These were a special book, usually   the same as our weekly comic, and they had to come out from England, so Santa had to order them early to make sure we got them in time.  Once I got TeddyBear Annual and another time a Lucy Attwels Annual, which may I say I looked after well, and still have today. I used to get them for my girls too (the Christmas stockings) but they disappeared and were replaced with crappy ones filled with lollies you could buy any day of the week.  Wheres the excitement in that?  I remember when I was a bit older and we had moved to town, and mum asked me what I wanted for Christmas.  We went looking in a shop that was a major toy shop, and I saw a stuffed puppy.  He was a soft orange color and I loved him.  I showed her and she said she would see if Santa could bring it.  Well.. the big day arrived and I hoped for my puppy.  I opened my present and was disappointed.  It was the wrong puppy.  This one was pink and white, and smaller.  I guess I must have cried, cos that was part of who I was,I can't remember, but through the day, I began to have a real fun time with my new puppy.  I fell in love with him/her, and still have the little guy/gal on a shelf in my bedroom, with my other stuffed fellas. We didn't have a lot of money when I was growing up, but we sure had a lot of other things that made life fun, happy and exciting, and I wouldn't change it for anything.  Thats it for now.     See ya on the flip side. Bye

FIRE SAFETY

WHY I'M AFRAID OF FIRE:

Living on the farm was a wonderful place to grow up and learn how to survive.  Some of the things that happened to us were quite horrible, but we came through it all, I think because mum and dad never seemed to panic.  When things went wrong, they put their shoulders back and just got on with it.

I know of an instance when we were walking home from school and we came head on with a fire on the side of the road.  It was roaring away happily.  In amongst the smoke and flames, were mum and dad.  All they had were wet hessian sacks to beat out the flames.  They would rush down to the creek and soak the bag and start again, beating the flames.  When my brothers came home they ran to help.  My sisters and myself went home and tried to keep busy. (usually eating this gorgeous bread we had delivered, spread with home made butter.YUM)  Eventually they would all troop home and clean up.  Mum was exhausted and would try to talk happily to us kids, but she must have just wished we would shut up and leave her alone. But mum being mum, she would sigh and sit down and listen to our gripes or whatever we needed to tell her.  Where we lived was miles from the nearest, .........well anything really.  So there was no way we could get the fire brigade or even our nearest neighbours to help.  It was awful.  I think some one must have thrown a butt out of the car window. (cigarette that is.  Any other butt would have been preferable, and highly likely a lot less destructive)  This happened a few times, and sometimes in the night, and all we kids could see from the house would be shimmering of the flames in the darkness.  Very scarey.

Later when we moved into town, we had a fire, well we had two.  My three older sisters were somewhere, I can't remember where, but my sister Janet and myself were coming home from school,  Again.... (at least we went, which is more that I can say for some).  To get to our house we walked down the road then crossed the railway lines, then we were on our private road.  Well it wasn't our private road as such, it belonged to the people who my dad worked for, but anyway, there was the fire brigade.  Men everywhere. There was a fire in an area where no body ever went so I don't k now how it started.  Janet and I ran home scared and told mum.  She already knew, and seemed unconcerned,  Well I guess she had been through this so many times before, without help.  With help, it should be a breeze.  My sister and I didn't agree.  I picked up my teddy (Edward Bear) and my school bag.  I filled my bag with neccessities such as an apple from the orchard, a favourite book, clean nickers, and a biscuit.  Janet did the same.  I put my belongings into my dolls pram.  She didn't have a pram so I let her share mine.  Off we went.  I remember the firemen asking where we were going.  I said we are going somewhere safe.  They yelled back that the fire was safe and out.  I didn't believe them and obviously neither did my sister, cos we kept walking.,  We went as far as the sale yards.  We stayed there until it began to get dark and we made out way, very slowly, home.  When we got near the place of the fire, we saw it was out and we happily ran the rest of the way home.  The next day we had some wind (not my sister and I) and it started the fire up again so this time a couple of men stayed through the night.  The next day when they said it was out, it really was. 

 One night, dad was relaxing in the bath, after a long hard day,  mum was listening to the radio, my older siblings were doing what older siblings do. I was looking out the window for some unknown reason. Out there was the garage, the garden and the dogs.  Also out there was a pampas bush,   shrub, tree, whatever name it goes under.  It was a stones throw away from the house, and on the fence line to the pigs paddocks. As I looked I thought I saw some smoke.  It was raining and quite a crappy night.  I looked some more, then I realised I was right.  It was on fire.  The bloody pampas was on fire.  I tell you now.  I was jolly frightened.  I yelled out to mum and she went to the window.  She in turn, yelled to dad, who was asleep in the bath.  He must have been thrilled. Just what he wanted, to be woken up in the hot bath to be told he had to get outside and fight another bloody fire.  This time my sister and I were told to fun down to the neighbours and ring the firemen.  We ran for all we were worth, (which may I say was a princely sum) knocked on the door and tried to explain, while at the same time trying to suck air into our lungs, that we had a fire at our place and needed help.  Mr Nielson.(I think)...........???????rang the firemen for us and his wife made us hot chocolate drinks. They talked to us to try to take our minds off the fire, but when we heard the firemen and saw the trucks rush past we couldn't stand being there.  We had to get home....ish.  We waited up at the first gate until it looked safe to go further.  When the excitement died down a bit, the firemen told dad a broken power line hanging over the bush, shrub, tree, must have started the fire.  We were very lucky to still have a dad, cos he went rushing down to it with water, and if he hadn't put his good rubber gum boots on, he would have gotten zapped, fried, and cooked.  The really funny thing was though, the cars that began arriving.  Our road was a no through road, but suddenly there were people turning up with food, bags of clothes, books, you name it they had it.  I guess the grape vine was a little in overdrive that night,  or dare I say it, they were curious and had to come look.  By bearing gifts, all be it unneeded (not such a word, I know)

they could get  a first hand look at the devastation.  Aaaah well, small towns.  Good though eh?                      And then...............