Emigrating to Australia, Part 2

Part two of the diary my mother kept on the days we emigrated to Australia in 1967. Part one is here.

Difficult to write - so tired. Still enjoying it though. Being in a large aeroplane like being in a self contained world. Only trouble is that you stay in the same clothes all the time and you can't wash properly - the toilets have a tiny basin in them but no room to turn round. Every few hours the Stewardess brings small towels soaked in cologne. We all liked that.

Coming into Hong Kong exciting. We left land for a while and went over water - lots of islands, mostly no bigger than 100 yds long and wide. Some were just rocks sticking out of the water. We could see one liner and lots of junks. We knew Hong Kong just as if we had been there before. Houses on the hillside. Shacks made of bits of wood and rags. The airport (Tai-Pak) juts out into the sea and on one side we were only a few yards from the edge. Don't envy the captain's job.

I bought some slides 2"x2" of Hong Kong but won't send them by post in case they get lost... You will need some sort of viewer to look at them but it will be worth it as we will send you more from time to time. Dark as we left Hong Kong and all the lights on the hillside were twinkling, just like the lamp Len has. Elizabeth woke up just after I left the plane with Simon and Jonathan, so Ernie was able to leave the plane after all.

One day I will go back to Hong Kong to have a good look around.

At Hong Kong new menu cards were distributed but I didn't get one.

Arrived at Darwin on time 3.10am temperature 84F. Children full of beans even at that unearthly hour. Ours chasing around but all the other kids looking travel weary. About 20 kids on plane and only 1 sick.

Saw Flying Doctor aircraft.

Two tiny babies so they have Carrie-cots on special table at front of plane near 1st class part. Children slept part of time from Darwin to Sydney. This adoptive country of ours sure is big. We have been over desert and scrubland - now we are over mountains and nearing Sydney. Simon still asleep.

Elizabeth asked if we could play with the snow when we got off. We were at 30,000 feet and the clouds looked like snow. Didn't see Sydney until we were almost at airport.

Time to Fasten Seatbelt - time to sign off.

To be continued - Mum continued writing her impresions and experiences for the first few days were were in Australia, and they make interesting reading. However, as usual, she managed to miss out all the most important bits:

We were flying in the days well before interactive maps in airplanes, so we really didn't have much to go on except the airline map book, which reduced everything to straight lines. This meant that between Calcutta and Hong Kong the map showed us flying over Vietnam. I was glued to the window, just in case I managed to see a warplane being shot down.

Map from http://www.gcmap.com/

We were at Hong Kong airport for 70 billion lifetimes (or maybe an hour or two) waiting for the plane to Sydney. We arrived in daylight and left in darkness. The comments about "knowing" Hong Kong probably come from postcards my Uncle Frank (who had been at sea) had sent home.

Darwin airport was absolutely heaving with Australian soldiers on their way to/from Vietnam. I had a can of Coke, and sometimes even now if I have a can of coke the taste will be exactly the same as I remember and take me back to Darwin at 3.00am.

Simon

A Quick Wizz Through 2011

For those who either have poor memory, or just weren't paying attention!

January
We were given medals by the town, had a party to raise funds for flood relief in Australia, blogged for a whole week about Australia because it was Australia Day on the 26th and I wrote about my family emigrating to Australia in 1966. In the house we were insulating and plasterboarding the kitchen.

February
We went to Retromobile and did some shoe shopping (as you do). In the house we continued work on the kitchen and applied some finishing touches to the structural work in the attic bathroom.

March
In March we started getting really serious about the kitchen, ordering our tiles, having the pipework for our cooker installed, and visiting kitchen shops to start getting prices. We also started proper work for the year, visiting Chenonceau for the first time on the 24th.

April
was paint and plaster month. We worked on the office, the kitchen and the attic bathroom. We had time off though, for bar-b-q-ing (I know, but however you "spell" that, it's wrong) and the Fête. The kitchen kind of progressed when Angela and Dennis delivered our range hood and we decided not to use a kitchen specialist because they are for the most part thieves and rogues. Elsewhere (by that I mean outside) it didn't rain.

April would usually be early spring, but this year was very mild

May
May was the month where we celebrated the 5th anniversary of seeing the house for the first time and the second anniversary of moving here. We did more plaster & paint stuff in the attic bathroom and kitchen, although we did get professional help too. All the while the drought continued.

June
What a month - Paris, parents, bathroom, and kitchen, in various orders. Some even more than once. In between all that, we worked, and the drought continued.

July
Parents again, but this time in Preuilly. The kitchen was installed (sans worktops). We worked lots. It was hot a lot of the time - and very dry.

A bell on the side of Montresor chateau.
We visited twice this year

August
It rained - eventually, and we continued to work hard with Célestine. We didn't get much work done on the house, as August is when businesses close around here. This meant we had time to watch some competitive ploughing, part of the Comice Rural.

September
Work on the house involved paint (again) and fixing the landings for the staircase. September was a busy month with clients, but we did find time to fit in a weekend in Paris.

October
Suddenly life got really busy again - we did tiling, painting, chaux chanvre, and the worktops for the kitchen arrived. We were also blessed with more clients (so that was Chenonceau again) and a visit from a dear friend.

Whatever it was they were looking at,
it obviously deserved the !

November
found us still dealing with chaux chanvre, but we did also find time to install our niche. We had more clients, but then Célestine broke. I also had a couple of days in London with my father.

December
A lot happened this month, mainly paint based, but we also got the kitchen and dining room more or less finished. The downstairs toilet was also painted and reinstalled. Then we had a storm, which didn't affect us too badly, but other people suffered.

112,982 visitors to the blog
368 blog posts
50 species of butterfly recorded
21 visits to the Chenonceau carpark
4 visits to Paris

and that's our 2011 for you

Simon

Growing up in Sydney

I have written before about when my family moved from London to Australia. (Emigrating to Australia Part One, Part Two, Part Three). I have also written about breaking my arm in the park opposite our house. The story of that is here. The park still exists, but it has much more modern features such as safety and shade. You can see it here.

Yesterday I was looking for some old photos and I found the following, one of the the first photos taken of me in Australia. The date on the photo is October 1967, but I have no idea when it was taken: back then you took the occasional photo, then when the film was full you took it to the chemist to be developed. All I know is that it was taken between April and October 1967.

 

You can see the "slippery dip" (a.k.a slide) that I broke my arm on in the left background.

Later Dad taught me how to develop film, and we did so in the bathroom, using a red plastic bucket over a lightbulb to provide us with suitable light. I assume it was cheaper, and I remember the results were quite acceptable.

A Bit More Backstory

Last year I wrote about my family's experience of emigrating to Australia. Whilst things here in Preuilly sur Claise are quiet, I though I would continue the story...

The first Sydney ferry I ever rode, the apparently
unpopular Kooleen. I always had a soft spot for it.
Photo by Jack Davis,1963 (used with permission).

After about a week living in the boarding house in Neutral Bay, my father found us a flat (apartment) in an old brick and sandstone house in Hunters Hill, one of the more exclusive suburbs of Sydney. It consisted of 4 rooms and a shared bathroom on the upper floor of a building built as a boarding house which later became a pub known as the Gladstone Hotel. The building had once been quite grand, with wide verandas and plenty of cast iron lacework, but by the time we were living there the wooden floor of the verandah was rotting, even though the iron lacework remained. More recently the building has been restored and turned into very stylish apartments - this used to be our front room. Coincidentally to our current situation, part of Hunters Hill was regarded as the French settlement of Sydney as part of the area was subdivided by a pair of brothers from Bordeaux, and many of their compatriots moved to the area. One of those was the French Consul, who lived in a building called Passy House. There is more about Hunters Hill here.

That's our house! Our living room was the corner room
on the upper storey( by John Ward used with permission)

A couple of days after moving to Hunters Hill I broke my arm falling of a "slippery dip" (slide) in the park opposite our house. This meant a night of pain, and the next morning a trip to Sydney city to visit outpatients at Sydney hospital. As it was a special trip we went by ferry, a mode of transport we usually didn't use because of the expense. This involved catching a bus to the Valentia Street (Woolwich) wharf and one of the old "K" ferries to Circular Quay.

This is Valentia Street Wharf as I remember it

Once at the hospital I had x-rays, and my right arm was encased in plaster. We then caught the ferry back to Hunters Hill. Showing how was grown up I was, I did what all adults did at that time: as the ferry arrived at the wharf I jumped ashore before the gangplank was in place. Unfortunately I landed on the plaster, and cracked it in two. Luckily the ferry hadn't left to go back to the city, so we climbed back on and I ended up with an industrial strength plaster cast.

Circular Quay in the late 60s - the Opera House
is still being built on Bennelong Point

The other events I remember vividly from our time in Sydney was being allowed to stand on the verandah to watch Apollo 7 make its way across the sky, and starting a long interest in photography by making a pinhole camera and developing the film in the bathroom with Dad. I can also remember catching the Manly Ferry on New Years Day 1968 to watch the start of the Sydney-Hobart Yacht Race and being convinced that the ferry was going to sink because it started rolling as we passed in front of Sydney Heads. (The weather wasn't this rough, but I was a London boy and no-one had warned me.) You may even be able to see me in this photo.

After 18 months my father found a job in Canberra and we left the life of living under Sydney Airport's flightpath for a life of complete... well - Canberra was never the most exciting of towns.

Simon

None of these photos are mine - I have tried to contact the owners of the bottom two photos for permission, but not heard back. If they are your photos and you object to their use here, please contact me.

Civilisation as We Know it is Ending

The ascent of Donald Trump to what he appears to view as a medieval throne has signaled the end of civilisation as we know it. Whatever happens, if he goes or stays, the world will not be the same afterwards. This blog is lucky enough to be kept on archive by the Australian National Library, and so, following the extraordinary story of Trump insulting and slamming the phone down on the Australian Prime Minister, I thought I'd better try and gather my thoughts in a blog post for posterity. Major historical events are occurring, there is no doubt, and future readers might find it a bit weird if I didn't mention it (although Jane Austen gets away with it...)

Brexit was bad enough, but it was just the harbinger of things to come. It seems that the Occupy folks were right all along. The world's financial markets have been manipulated for years in order to benefit the rich so they get richer and more powerful, and the poor have got poorer and more and more trapped in poverty. No surprise really, but people like me just didn't realise how bad it had got. Simon is so exercised by the situation that he has joined a political party (the Liberal Democrats, who with the Greens, seem to be the only people talking sense and not selling their souls). He spends his days fulminating, sharing stuff on Facebook and creating a digital three dimensional model of Preuilly in the 18th century as displacement therapy.

Unfortunately for my peace of mind, I decided to open a Facebook account in December. On a daily basis I am bombarded by and bombard in turn my circle of woolly minded liberal friends and contacts. None of us are particularly politically active, and many, like me, are not very good at big picture stuff. The echo chamber effect of FB gets overwhelming. We are all bewildered and outraged, sharing the wise words and investigative reporting of those we admire who are out there closer to the coal face of the political action. It's all so unpredictable, in a sort of depressingly predictable way (or maybe all so predictable in an alarmingly unpredictable way). The ban on certain nationalities entering the US caused me to feel as if some sort of magic trick was being performed. I was being distracted by this outrageous and almost certainly unconstitutional policy, whilst some sleight of hand was used to perpetrate something (as yet unknown) even worse.

The lack of self control displayed by the American president is deeply shocking. It seems like a small thing to complain about given recent events, but how is it possible that anyone respects such a man? He is an egotistical bully surrounded by a team of manipulative power crazed fanatics.  Can the rest of the world stop him? Will some good come of it? It's obvious the world needs to change. Do those talking about universal incomes and a more equitable society have the tools to convince the desperate and exploited that what they offer can work?

We are gearing up to go on the march scheduled for 25 March in London. I'm ambivalent about marching and I won't be marching to protest against Britain leaving the EU. Frankly I've got to the stage where I'm so frustrated that I'm willing to let Britain go stew in its own stinking mess. Whatever happens I'm not moving back there (and Simon is reluctant even to admit he was born there, let alone even visit - the march may be the last time he sets foot in the country). At least we still have some choices (staying in France as a long term resident, moving back to Australia, maybe emigrating to New Zealand...). We will have to do a load of annoying and very expensive paperwork, but we are luckier than many. Some people are stuck in limbo in foreign countries, genuinely refugees, and no one will let them in to a new safe country to rebuild their lives.

No, I will be marching because I don't like what I see happening to individuals. My life is about to be turned upside down. Others already have been. The racists, bigots, misogynists and corporate exploiters are all out in the open now, having been given permission to put into action what they really think. The Americans had the chance to make a real change in a positive way, with the emergence of Bernie Sanders as a potential presidental candidate. Certain elements of his own party and those who benefit from neo-liberalism betrayed him and ensured he did not get the nomination. Now the Democrat party has collapsed in on itself, and with the rise of Trump, the Republican party is in no better shape. What an opportunity lost (and gained by others...)! Here in France, old school hard leftist Benoit Hamon has emerged as the Socialist Party candidate, but there is no united party to back him. Marine le Pen and her eminence grise Florian Philippot are licking their lips and ready to pounce. 

In the meantime, I'm keeping an eye on what Elizabeth Warren, Paul Krugman, Dan Rather and Naomi Klein are saying. I'm reading my favourite science blogs and trying (but not succeeding) to maintain a regular routine and normal life. I'm not logging on to FB every day. And occasionally I swallow my bile and watch Nuttall, May, Trump, Spicer or their supporters to see what they are actually saying. I'm interested that very few of their so-called grassroots supporters read newspapers, watch television news or use the internet. I'm not quite sure where they do get their information but they clearly live in a different world to me. Goodness only knows how we bridge the gap or how long it will take.

Is it OK yet to say we're nervous? Let's hope the old order ends with a whimper and not a bang.

And by the way, I want universal free at the point of delivery education and health care as part of the new world order. I think those two things alone will just about cure the world's problems.

Hôtel d'Harambure

The rather rambling 17th century house you get a glimpse of through the imposing gateway in rue du Cygne, Preuilly-sur-Claise, is known as Hôtel d'Harambure, after the man who constructed it. The word hôtel in this case denotes a private town house, not an establishment with rooms available to rent for the night, although both meanings are used in French.

Curiously, this is the only building in Preuilly listed in Le Patrimoine des communes d'Indre-et-Loire as being made of pierre (stone). This is as opposed to tuffeau, the soft local limestone. I assume the implication is that it is made of rough field stone, or more likely, harder stone that has been imported from another district.

One of the most interesting features of the interior is a remarkable box bed, contemporary with the construction of the house and installed for the cook. The cook was an important character in this type of household, so their safety and comfort was taken into consideration. The highset bed made getting in and out easier and protected its occupant from rats.

Jean d'Harambure was a loyal companion of Henri de Navarre at the time of his struggle to win the throne of France and become le bon roi Henri IV. During the battle of Aumale against the Spanish in 1592 he saved the king's life, losing an eye in the process. Like the king, he came from Navarre, a small kingdom in the French Pyrenees, in the south-west of modern France. Settling in Preuilly, Harambure built this house and founded a family. The family prospered and grew, so Jean built another manor house and barn, this time at nearby Yzeures-sur-Creuse. Protestant, he recanted his faith under Louis XIV, who revoked his grandfather Henri IV's pragmatic solution to the Wars of Religion, the Edict of Nantes. Once again, it was awkward, if not dangerous, to be a dissenter. Royalists like the Harambure family were given the choice of emigrating or abjuring.

By the 18th century the family had expanded its holdings to include a manor and a fortified farm near Chaumussay. Jean's descendant François d'Harambure was the representative for Preuilly in the Estates-General of 1789 held at Versailles. This national general assembly, a sort of parliament, was called by Louis XVI in the expectation of sorting out his government's financial difficulties. Instead, it triggered the Revolution. Although firmly monarchist, François d'Harambure was an equally firm constitutionalist, and served as a general during the Revolution. He seems to have been a level headed and courageous man who strongly and publically stood up for what he considered right, no matter which side of the political fence it fell. However, after narrowly avoiding execution in 1793, he retired from public life at the age of 51 to spend the remainder of his days quietly in Preuilly.

Susan

The Sydney Opera House

In 1967 my family arrived in Sydney*.

One of the first things I remember is seeing the Sydney Opera House with only half its tile cladding in place. I knew nothing about the building except that to my not quite seven year old eyes it was amazing. At the time I had no idea about the controversy surrounding it, and I suspect many outside Australia still don't.

"52 years ago (1968), with the help of David Attenborough, a 24-year-old Australian filmmaker named John Weiley wrote and directed Autopsy on a Dream. It screened just once. Weiley's film was a critical look at the turbulent, drawn-out creation of Australia's greatest landmark, from buoyant beginnings to a final act shrouded in controversy, as young Peter Hall inherited a gargantuan task from dismissed, beloved architect Jørn Utzon." (Sydney Opera House).

The film is fascinating for a number of reasons: the controversy behind the Opera House, the footage and sounds of Sydney in 1968, and the people interviewed.

It's almost an hour long, but for anyone interested in Australian history it's fascinating, and an hour well spent.

* for that story click here https://daysontheclaise.blogspot.com/search?q=Emigrating+to+Australia

Emigrating to Australia, Part 1

In March 1967 my parents emigrated from London to Sydney, Australia. My Father (Ernie) had applied for and received assisted passage as his was a trade that was in demand in Australia. With my Mum (Grace), myself, (age 6¾) my sister Elizabeth (4½) and brother Jonathan (almost 3) we flew on a BOAC 707 from Heathrow to Sydney, in a trip that lasted 3 days.

Leaving London - Me, Uncle Bob, my sister Elizabeth,
Dad, Mum carrying Jonathan, and Mum's sister Elsie.
Elsie came to Australia a couple of years later.

As we were the first of my Mother's family to fly, she kept a diary on the menu booklet that airlines used to supply in those long gone days and sent it to her parents soon after we arrived in Australia. I am not sure when it came into my posession but I am fascinated by it, and hope that you get something out of it too.

I have scanned the document as well as transcribing it, but the writing does rather scoot from one page to another then back again. To keep things authentic I haven't tried to reorganise the photos, but I have transcribed the writing into the order in which it occurred.

BOAC Menu from April 1967

Hope that you can understand my writing. it was written in unusual circumstances so couldn't worry too much about it, and part of the time I was almost writing in my sleep.

Tried to get over the upset of saying "goodbye" by opening presents. The children helped so we can't sort out who bought what but they are all wonderful presents.

Hope that you can understand all that I have written, I thought that if I wrote as it happened you would get a better idea of the journey etc. Elizabeth just found her slippers (from Elsie I think) so we are both wearing the same slippers with our shoes tucked under the seats. With all the books etc. that you gave the children plus those that we bought - plus those that the air hostess gave them we have ½ a ton of stuff but they don't seem to mind (the airline I mean).

Passed over Paris. No cloud - good view. Passed over River Rhine. Lovely

Went above cloud for about ½ minute. Snow capped mountains on right. Switzerland fab. Little villages at bottom of mountains on right. Lots of forests. Zurich airport - mountains and forests on two sides.

About 5 minutes out of Zurich airport passed over mountains. They were covered in snow and we couldn't see the base of them because of mist and cloud. The ground now looks as if it is covered in cotton wool. Can't see the ground at all now. Left side of aeroplane looks dark - sunset on right. Approaching Rome in ½ hour

Almost at Rome. Sun has nearly set. Lovely sight. Dark now. Rome is congested so we have to circle for about 10 minutes Funny sensation , we are talking normally but we can hardly hear ourselves think although it is fairly quiet in the aeroplane.

Passing over Naples - pitch dark. Just been served with drinks and peanuts again. They don’t let you get hungry. Elizabeth kicking up a fuss, because she changed places with Jonathan and he drank her 'coke' and left her with orange squash.

They said that Ernie could sit in front of me so that Simon had two seats to sleep on. The only trouble is that the children have decided not to sleep although it is past nine o'clock. Ernie reading the Riot Act to Elizabeth without much effect. All three asleep now. Blankets are provided so there are blanketed bodies every where.

Had the most exciting part of the flight when I should have been asleep. Too many thoughts chasing around so I sat up and looked through the window. The sky was pitch black and dotted with millions of stars. As we were above the clouds there was nothing to obscure them. Cassiopea was on a level with me instead of being above. There were star clusters and I saw a shooting star. The ground looked a dark grey with a large patch of light coming in to view. It got brighter and brighter until I realised it was an airport (Bahrain). The runways looked like narrow streaks of yellow and the buildings a misty orange. After that not much to be seen. Sunrise was amazing. The sun was enormous but not on the horizon. Suddenly I realised why - what I saw was a reflection (or something) and when the sun rose the sky was brilliant.

Karachi stifling and brown. They take themselves very seriously. Scruffy looking soldiers with guns guarding one aeroplane. Wonder why? Saw very little of India - too cloudy and Ernie and myself deperately tired. Jonathan wouldn't wake up so Ernie stayed on the plane at Karachi and I did at Calcutta.

Just as well, the temperature was 84°F.

Dinner just arriving.

To be continued

I remember parts of the trip:
Going to the airport with my grandparents, and my father buying me my first ever Toblerone at Zurich Airport. The soldiers at Karachi (and the impossible heat!) and a Crackerjack book (which I still have) with activities. I wore a woollen suit with shorts (and a cap), so no wonder I remember the heat in Karachi. Or was it Calcutta, which Mum doesn't mention?

Simon

Emigrating to Australia, Part 3

Part three of my mother's diary from the days we emigrated to Australia in 1967 - here are parts one and two. This part of the diary deals with the first couple of days of living in a new country with 3 young children and a husband looking for work.

Sydney Airport in 1967

Got off 'plane - Simon sick. First time anybody felt unwell. Flying is good. You get a funny feeling on take off - not unpleasant though. Once you're up it's smoother than a car ride. If Ernie and I could have slept we would have enjoyed it even more. Not the airlines fault though. The 'plane was less than 1/2 full so we all had a blanket and three seats to stretch out on. Too much to think about I suppose.

Mr Mattison met us at airport and took us to our lodging. We are looking foward to bedtime to get some sleep.

Ernie out this afternoon for job so missed Clive Brown who called to see us. Elizabeth been asleep several hours so hope that she will sleep tonight.

Jonathan and Simon played with cars on floor. I fell asleep on chair. Got the children in bed when I woke up then Ernie and I had supper and went to bed. All three children woke up between 2 and 4 and refused to settle. We realised that it would take time for them to adjust to a different time and climate but when you are desperate for sleep and your children are wide awake - well!!!

Ernie fixed up with job. Plenty of work out here. About 10% moonlight and £60 is not unusual for a man to take home. Clive has a lad of 17 in his congregation started up his own cleaning business and is doing very well. Earns about $200 a week. You will all have to come here and we will start our own family business. All we need is hard work from everybody and we could do very well.

This country is booming and I hope that we can take part and share the rewards.

Lots and lots of love to all, glad you all came to the airport

Gracie

Hope you received all the cards. We sent one from each stop but at Karachi-Calcutta and Darwin we wrote the cards, paid for the stamp and had to leave it with an official to post. The other places had letter boxes.

Still can't get over Karachi. It's like something out of a comic opera. Time seems to have passed it by for a long time then they suddenly woke up. Most of the labourers at the airport wore the baggiest of shorts (or loin cloths) and sandals about 4 sizes too big The soldiers were the funniest though. They also haven't very high standards of sanitation.

Last Page

Couldn't post this yesterday as I was unable to get a large envelope. Today is a public holiday (ANZAC Day) so will try tomorrow. Ernie fixed up with job at Commonwealth Savings Bank. Quite good wages $58 a week. That's A£29 or £22E.

It's amazing the number of men who wear shorts, to work and leisure. One fellow came down to breakfast today in yellow-orange-white and blue squared shorts and no-one (apart from us) batted an eyelid. When we have a bit more cash Ernie will have to get some. (Not y-o-w&b squares though). Jonathan is still refusing to walk anywhere. He is taking longer than the other two to get acclimatised. Elizabeth has made a conquest with several of the other guests. She was still asleep on Sunday morning at breakfast time so we let her sleep. Half way through I heard someone say, oh look, bless her. It was our daughter still in her pyjamas, hair everywhere and her cheeks all pink She looked a picture and everyone was saying - isn't she sweet, pretty etc. Trust Elizabeth to get everyone hooked.

I took this to the post office yesterday to be weighed and it will cost $1 that's 8/4d English money. Won't be able to do that very often, will I?

It's worth it though, because I find it interesting to read what happened on the journey and I hope that you do too. Please keep it so that I can read it when I come back for a holiday.

The Union Flag flies more here than it does in England, The Cof E churches fly the English flag as well.

I remember this photo as being taken fairly
soon after we arrived in Sydney

One or two notes: I have no recollection of having been sick. I remember the huge tin shed that was Mascot Airport in those days, I remember how blue the skies were, how hot the car was, and a man in uniform with shorts, but I do not remember being sick. I also remember going over the harbour bridge on our way to the boarding house which was our temporary accommodation.

I also remember going out in a car on a journey not mentioned here. I am sure it must have been Anzac day (but probably wasn't), and we went to the shops. When we got back to the car the plastic seats were hotter than the centre of the sun. Dad may not have had any shorts, but I certainly did.

And.. The boarding house we stayed in is the reason I do not eat (and indeed cannot eat anything that has been in contact with) pumpkin. On one of our first days they served mashed pumpkin (I assume cooked like mash potato) with an ice cream scoop - two perfectly formed balls of something radioactively orange that looked like it was yummy and exciting (i.e. a new ice cream flavour) that tasted like yuk. They also served curried sausages - fried sausages that had curry sauce (curry powder mix flavoured gravy) poured over them.

Luckily, it didn't put me off sausages.

The money thing is interesting: Australia had only just changed from £Sd to the Australian Dollar (14 February 1966), so money amounts can appear in any currency: Australian or British pounds or Australian dollars (but never all three).

We were sponsored immigrants to Australia as part of the "Bring out a Briton" campaign, and as such my parents had to pay £10 each towards their airfare - we three children flew for free. All Australian immigration records have been digitised and a searchable index put online and you can register an account and ask for a record to be made available to view online. My father did just that a couple of years ago for our family records and they make really interesting reading: when people comment about Susan and I moving, first to London then to France, and saying how brave we are, I look at what my parents managed, and think no... not really...

Simon