​​I tend to hang on to things that were gifts. They don’t have to be fancy or expensive, if they were given to me, or made for me, I treasure them dearly. I have a somewhat wonky mini vase made by my niece at age 10. I love it. I have a hand made wooden sailing ship made by my Auntie and her boyfriend with driftwood we had collected on the beach. Another favorite would be a statue of a clown made for me by an Auntie who was an artist and sculpturer. I also have a drawing made by another niece at around 8yrs old. Plus, a crochet rug my baby sister made at age 15. I also have the bible I mentioned in my first story, given to me when I attended the coronation of Queen Elizabeth.

I have to admit, my most precious items are the old black and white family photos. They are just irreplaceable and are a great way of recalling my life and my family history. One such photo is a rare one of my Grandparents together in their garden in Wales which I have hanging up. So many photos showing my parents, aunts and uncles growing up. Others I had taken in the early days of my life before colour photos and more recently digital photography, came in.

​Although I am currently scanning old photos onto my computer, somehow digital photos don’t seem the same. They are a pain to transport when moving house, but I wouldn’t be without them.

All of these things are the first items I grab in an evacuation. My priority, People, Pets, Photos and then precious objects.  If I have time, I take clothes too!


Heather Hartland
​March 2023

My life has been somewhat nomadic so I have been new in town so often it has become “the norm”. My father was badly affected by his experiences in the war so could not resume his apprenticeship. He and Mum moved frequently before embarking on the biggest move yet, to Australia from the UK, in search of a better life.
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After a stay in the migrant camp, which was a series of old Nissan huts and a communal food hall, we arrived at his new place of employment, Bunnings Mills.  Bunnings had saw mills in several locations around W.A. This one was in Nyamup surrounded by natural bushland. The company actually constructed little communities in which the employees and their families could live. The road through town was gravel and the mill houses were timber with little front verandahs. They were basic but comfortable, we had beds and a couple of donated pieces of furniture but managed with wooden crates for dining chairs, and a larger timber crate as a table. We had a wood burning cooking stove, there was a huge rainwater tank outback of the house which we had to rely on for our water supply and of course, right down the end of the backyard was the essential little timber structure. For a small child, this was a big adventure but I’m not sure my poor mother saw it the same way. In the UK she had been used to an electric stove, running water and indoor loo.  It didn’t help when, the first time she used the backyard facility she had a small visitor sitting next to her, watching. It was a goanna!!!  I confess I was a bit scared of them till I got used to them.

I commenced Primary school and was happily travelling from the mill into town on an old school bus, meeting new friends and swapping stories of where we came from. (90% of the school were children of immigrants from many locations). Dad was enjoying his new job and making friends but poor Mum was having a much harder time getting used to the facilities. I don’t think she shared our enthusiasm for the new life at that point.

Our first Christmas was the hardest. Being away from family, we had been invited to the Community hall for a Bunnings Christmas. Children were given gifts by the company and happily played, the men chatted. It was fun. Unfortunately, the invitation said, “bring a plate”, so my parents, being their first year, brought a plate each plus a cup and cutlery, thinking the mill may be short on those too. No one advised them that there was supposed to be food on the plate to share. An embarrassing introduction to the Aussie tradition of “bring a plate”. Everyone was very nice about it and it became a source of good-natured humor. We got it right the second year, hahahahahaha …

The move to Australia was the best idea my parent ever had. They eventually got to own their own home, with indoor plumbing, plus they got a car.  My sisters and I got an education and made our lives here. We have been very happy. 


Heather Hartland,
February 2023

My life seems to have many triggers, or perhaps I have too many memories, in any case I seem to be constantly reminded of things I have seen or experienced in my life time.

Most recently, watching episodes of a TV show called “Escape to the Country”, two shows featured people moving to Wales in the UK. Wales is known as the land of song and rolling green hills.  I still have memories of the beautiful sound of the choirs as they sang in Welsh and English. I recall sitting enthralled listening to my grandfather telling me stories from his homeland, the smell of his pipe and the smells associated with his tailor’s shop.

Featured in the show was our ancestral home, Merthyr Tydvil which has a mixed history. On the positive side - Howard Winstone MBE, who became a world champion featherweight boxer and a statue to him now sits in the village. Gustavius (Gus) Payne an acclaimed artist who painted from the heart. On the negative side of course, the 1831 uprising was sparked when bailiffs attempted to seize goods from the home of Lewsyn yr Heliwr (Lewis the Huntsman). Iron workers struck against redundancies, rising prices and bailiffs. They were dark times.

Not far from Merthyr Tydvil was another place mentioned in the show, Aberfan. It’s another small Welsh village with a tragic past. On Mynydd Merthyr, directly above Aberfan were several tips with millions of cubic meters of mining debris and waste from local coal mines. On 21st October 1966, after days of torrential rain, there was subsidence and the tip moved down the hill at a rapid rate, swallowing a farm, several houses and a school. The death toll was high.

Another TV show was about trains and the various locations those trains went to around the world. It took me back to Pont-Y-Cafnau which has the world’s oldest surviving iron railway bridge. It also showed steam railways in Wales and mentioned the little-known handmade boat called a Coracle.  This triggered memories from childhood again in that I recall men carrying these weird little craft to the river. 

​​I seem to have drifted off topic again and wandered into a history lesson!!!!

It seems just watching a movie or TV show where Wales is featured triggers multiple memories of a happy childhood.

‘My (Fortunate, Dangerous, Nomadic and Varied!) Life’

A number of words could fill this spot and describe my life, including fortunate, dangerous, nomadic and varied!

My (Fortunate) Life

I consider myself to be very fortunate in having had a very loving family. We had little money but were rich in the things that mattered, such as love and care. 

I am also fortunate in never having been unemployed or homeless, never having to claim benefits. My life has been interesting.


My (Dangerous) Life

As a child in the UK, I was in the ocean and was knocked over by a huge wave. I nearly drowned. Strangers pulled me to safety.

During my school years in WA, I had a holiday job at the local stables and got to ride the horses. One year we were taking horses along the road from stables to paddock when some kids lit jumping jacks which hit my horse. He panicked and bolted, right up the middle of the highway heading straight for an oncoming truck. I held up my hands and yelled for it to stop. Crazy but it worked, when it hit me, my outstretched arms caused me to be pushed to the side where the driver found me lying in the mud with two broken wrists.

Even a trip to the local Drive In wasn’t without its dramas. We were watching a movie called The Towering Inferno. Part way through we were feeling a bit warm. Then suddenly EVACUATE NOW came up on the screen and police directed us out through the bottom gate to safety. A huge bushfire was heading straight for the drive in.

I was in a bank which was held up by armed men, gun pointing at me. I obeyed the thieves and survived.

I was a passenger in a car which was T Boned by a drunk driver. After they cut me out, I was taken to hospital, relatively unscathed, for treatment.

In London I was sitting at a railway station talking to an elderly lady who was knitting. She boarded her train and as it left, I realized she had left her bag on the seat. I went to grab it but stopped and froze. I ran to the station master who evacuated the station and called the bomb squad to disarm the device she had left.

Even on the ship home I couldn’t stay out of trouble, between Africa and Australia we got hit by a small cyclone. Lucky it didn’t do any more than make us all seasick!

More recently I have survived three bouts of cancer. These are just the highlights, or should I say low lights, of my life.


My (Nomadic) Life

I have never lived anywhere longer than nine years.

As Dad was badly affected by his experiences in the war, he needed to work outside so got farm work in the UK. A cottage was a part of his wages.

We moved around several farms before the big adventure, we came to Australia to start a new life. We started in the South-West of W.A. in a small mill town, then moved to a nearby regional town. Then up to the hills area North of Perth.

Then, after a brief period in the city my family settled in Mandurah, a coastal town South of Perth. They settled I didn’t.

I had left school and was working, so I moved to the big city. I boarded, I shared flats; I got live in jobs; I moved a lot.

I headed off on a cruise back to the UK to reunite with family. In the UK I lived with one Aunt, then another, then a rooming house whilst I worked and travelled.

Another cruise and I was home in Australia again.

I joined the RAAF which meant, once again, I was off and moving.  I lived in all states of Australia, some multiple times and somewhere along the line, got married and moved out of on base rooms to a house.

Even after leaving the RAAF, we just kept moving following new opportunities until settling here in Benalla (for now!!!!!).
 
My (Varied) Life –

Upon leaving school I got a job as a vet nurse and worked in a racing stable too.
In the UK on my working holiday, I packed seeds in a garden Centre, sold ice cream at the beach, then cosmetics for a wholesale distributor.

My cousin said they need women in the Police force. I laughed saying “No way, I’m just here on a working visa”. He said, “You were born here, they’ll take you”. It was a 10-pound bet, I lost and ended up in the London metropolitan police.

I got homesick and returned to W.A. My sister and I shared a flat, she applied to go into nursing and me into the RAAF. Of course, it was Police and security division.

After the RAAF I got into stock control and reception.

Then went back to Uni and studied for a career in HR and OH&S, which I did until retirement.

Since retiring I have worked in Tourism, Welfare, secretarial and op shops. 


Heather Hartland
​October 2022

I am fortunate in that I have very little left outstanding on my bucket list. Although I never actually called it a bucket list, I did have a range of things I wanted to achieve. Plans, dreams and ambitions which began when I was still very young.

Travel - I longed to travel to all the countries I was learning about in school. Some exotic and romantic places that drew me to them. Well, I achieved that dream in 1972 when I booked my first cruise, four single young Ladies sharing a cabin. I travelled on the Fairstar sailing out of Fremantle W.A. around South Africa to the UK. In South Africa we docked at Durban and were given the option of transferring to a bus and doing an overland section before rejoining the ship in Cape town to continue on to the UK. I jumped at the change as it gave me the opportunity to see real African wildlife running free.  We saw some amazing creatures including a very curious Lion. We even walked around a Zulu village, probably set up for tourists, but it showed us how they lived back in the day. We were also allotted some shopping time at both locations and I learned very quickly how to negotiate with market traders and the like, thanks to a very helpful young crewman who delighted in escorting us.

Being born in the UK I had no problem organizing a three-year working holiday. I made good use of my time, based in London with relatives, I was ideally situated to do short or longer trips across the sea to places I had only ever read about. I saw the beautiful country of Holland, tulips, windmills, and very friendly people. One of my shipmates was from Holland originally so she took great pleasure in showing me her favorite places. I saw Gouda and Edam cheese being made, watched a skilled tradesman making a pair of clogs and painting intricate patterns on them. I went to the Canary Islands and France and also saw as much of Europe as I could.  My second cruise was on a ship called the Australis and this time we did the Suez Canal enroute to Australia.

Family roots – I had always dreamed of visiting the little town in Wales where my family originated and catching up with Grandparents and a variety of Aunts and Uncles, whom I had known as a small child. It was a very long time since we left for our new life in Australia. This I achieved also during my working holiday. Travelling by train and bus I covered as much of the UK as possible, including Merthyr Tydvil, Aberystwyth, Carnarvon castle and many many lovely villages set in the green hills of Wales. I covered Weston Super Mare, Torquay, Polperro and many other places around Devon and Cornwall. I even made it to see a real Edinburgh Military tattoo.  Of course, being horse mad in those days, I made a point of seeing the wild ponies in Dartmoor and the New Forest. So many wonderful place and memories.

Also achieved – I have owned a racehorse, had great career, driven a V8 holden around Bathurst, met the Beatles, owned a house and met the love of my life.

Still to do – I love trains, especially older steam and vintage trains. My only thing left to do is to travel Australia riding all the different rail routes including, The Ghan, the Savanalander and all those amazing scenic routes.  I have been on Castlemaine Malden and Steamrail Victoria vintage trains as well as the Indian Pacific and Overlander. The blue mountains tourist train also was quite an experience. I also need to read all those books in my library!


Heather Hartland
September 2022

​I have no evolving stories in my life right now, so members choice it is...
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Outback Adventure

I came from the United Kingdom to a farming area in the South of Western Australia which is where I did my schooling. In my final two years of high school, I had the chance to see the North West with my school buddy’s family. They were experienced bushies, 100% Aussie. They carried an old plastic rubbish bin which I learnt later was to be our washing machine. Put clothes and soapy water in the bin, secure the lid, then secure the bin in the trailer or van. After long miles over dusty dirt road the washing is agitated like it would be in a commercial washing machine. At your overnight camp spot, you rinse and hang the washing. It’s so hot there it dries overnight. Simple.

We headed off with 4WD and caravan towards the Wittenoom Gorge.  WOW, that’s some canyon. Rugged but beautiful. We travelled around Fortescue River, Broome, Karratha and numerous other mining towns. All I can say about that area is, red dust, red dirt and hot. The rugged ground could be said to have an element of beauty and I suppose if my aunt, the artist, were to visit she would have been painting it like crazy. However, I was not overly impressed. I did like the hands of bananas growing around Broome and the fabulous beaches.

Another thing unique to the North is the Road Train. I saw plenty of trucks with two and occasionally three trailers, but some of those N.T. trucks are 55 meters long !!!!!!! It’s a bit concerning when you are on the road and a hand pops out of the driver’s window and waves you around, the roads are very straight but narrow. Of course, with a 55mtr road train, that just isn’t going to happen.

I was amused when we headed up to the Northern Territory and a remote community called Humpty Do. It was virtually a pub and that’s it.

Around Kakadu, where the scenery improved no end, we saw Jim Jim Falls, Barramundi Gorge, Jarranbarnmi and Mamukala Wetlands.

​At one point we camped under a shady tree alongside a dry creek bed. I was told at this time of year its normal for creeks to dry up. There were three families camping right in the creek bed out of the wind. My guides called out to them and advised them to move up out of the creek. They just laughed and waved. I didn’t understand why we stayed at the top copping the dust storms and wind. I got my answer just before dawn broke.  I was awoken by a loud rumbling noise; I assumed it was a thunder storm and wished we were down in that protected area. Then the noise got louder, I could hear crashing, banging and screams. Within minutes the dry creek bed was flooded and the caravans washed away, smashed against the rock walls. Fortunately, the tourists from the creek bed campsites survived with only minor injuries. We were able to pull them up to safety, but they had learnt a hard lesson as they had lost everything except the clothes they stood up in. Now they, and I, understood.  Apparently, it’s a phenomenon experienced in that location, after tropical storms and rain further up north a wall of water comes down filling creeks instantly. A lucky escape indeed.

Heather Hartland
​August 2022

Opening my memories treasure chest brings forth a wide variety of memorabilia, letters, cards, and an odd collection of tickets to shows, for trains and more. These include several from overseas holidays, as well as my first trip on the Indian Pacific from East to West Australia. This trip was quite an adventure, as the train stopped at several remote locations, delivering much needed supplies and mail and collecting outgoing items.

Also, in my ticket collection were boarding passes and tickets for two cruises. The first was on board the Fairstar sailing out of Fremantle W.A. around South Africa to the UK.  It was my first solo holiday and I was heading off to explore my family’s roots. As the ship maneuvered out of Fremantle dock, the hymn Amazing Grace was played over the loudspeakers. I was very nervous. I was placed in a 4-berth cabin on the lower decks with two Melbourne girls and a Dutch girl. We soon made friends and enjoyed everything the ship had to offer. We even tried doing a dance called the Tarantella whilst in rough seas, which didn’t go so well!  My second cruise was on a ship called the Australis, this time via the Suez Canal enroute to Australia. I had been away for three years on a mammoth working holiday and considered myself to be a seasoned traveler by this time.

Digging down deeper into my memories treasure chest, I came across some horse brasses; these affix to the harness of Clydesdales that pull the Courage Brewery dray. Sadly, only at shows and festive occasions now, but in my childhood, a common sight. There was also a horseshoe from my first pony, an ex-pacer called Daniel Boone. He was a gelding, which meant that he could not have a career at stud, so was sold off as a riding pony. He was very sweet natured with rich brown coat and sad eyes. I had hours of fun and adventure with him.  I found member passes and ID tags from W.A. Turf Club, W.A. Trotting Association and race meetings gathered in my school holiday job at the local racing stables.

By far the most fascinating items were the old black and white family photos passed down from two generations to me, as custodian of the family history. Some were quite revealing, showing my Aunt in a way I never could have imagined.  Not rude or illegal, just a bit “ “out there”. There were the photos from WW2 from both sides of the family, baby photos and heaps more. So fascinating. There was even a photo of me, a mini biker, with boyfriend, both aged 3!!!!

​Right at the bottom, but safely wrapped, is a small red bible signed by Queen Elizabeth on the occasion of her coronation. All children attending the coronation were given one of these. I wrote about this event in an earlier session.

Finally, a bundle of graduation documents from Uni and various courses of training I took. My RAAF and METPOL entry documents, photos and discharge certificates also unleashed a flood of memories.

In closing, I can say I have had a great life, lots of experiences, many many memories and almost no regrets.


Heather Hartland
July 2022

I have been in a number of places where I have developed a real sense of community, but none affected me more than my years of service with the RAAF. Up to that point I had always lived near home and worked at standard type jobs.  After my big adventure, a three-year working holiday overseas which included a visit to my country of birth, Wales, or as they say Cymru, I developed a taste for travel and adventure, so of course I could not resume my usual type of work.

I applied for Army Navy and Air Force - my logic was, apply for all three and one is bound to come up. All offered a different lifestyle and work plus travel.  Each application resulted in a compulsory medical examination, ironically with the same medical facility. Well, it backfired, as I was accepted for all three!!!!  A decision had to be made and, after days of deliberation, I chose the RAAF. 

After my application was processed, I was flown from my home in Western Australia to Melbourne. Billeted in Tottenham, I was put through three months of vigorous training. Lots of marching, physical fitness training and lectures but, above all, learning to respond to commands instantly and correctly, which is essential in conflicts or emergency situations. We learnt to iron our clothes correctly, polish our shoes to a mirror shine you could see your face in and to survive the weekly room inspections, known laughingly as ‘panic night’. We helped each other, covered for each other, and became a real community.

The marching was hilarious!  Thirty awkward, uncoordinated young women trying to look professional, some who couldn’t tell their left foot from their right. We had a female drill sergeant with the loudest voice in history who bellowed, yelled and pointed out the error of our ways. Of course, we had the obligatory ‘talk’ on the dangers of fraternization. We had a curfew and had to be in our beds in the barracks by 10pm or we were in trouble. We joked about what happened after 10pm that wouldn’t happen before. We all had chores and one of the dreaded ones on the roster was cleaning the bathrooms. We hated loo cleaning duty.  Friendships were formed, we learnt how to be a team and help each other. We learnt self-discipline and to depend on each other. Some of us gave up and returned home, but the rest of us forged on and were rewarded with a celebration dinner and official passing out parade. The aforesaid drill sergeant suddenly became human, congratulating us on our efforts and wishing us well in our future careers.

My first unit was here in Melbourne, I was billeted in Mont Albert at the RAAF unit known as Frognall, awful name, posh suburb. I also worked between Vic Barracks, Grattan Street and Bourke Street Security units, then bases in Queensland, South Australia, and Western Australia.  I absolutely loved the life. I made so many friends, I learnt to rely on myself, my instincts and my training, taking those life lessons through to my civilian career after leaving the RAAF.  I had lots of experiences such as VIP escort, guarding an aircraft, and got way too close in Russell Street when the bomb went off. Lots of fun times too, good friends and even found a husband, quite by accident, but that’s another story.  
 
Heather Hartland
May 2022

Around 1989/1990 I met two friends, Gill and Joan, who shared a flat in Camberwell.  At that time my husband and I were living up in the hills near Warburton.  We often met in a Camberwell coffee lounge where we had made friends with the owners.  Gill was a civilian cataloger in Victoria Barracks, St Kilda Road where I had worked whilst in the RAAF, so we had something in common. Both Gill and Joan loved cats, as I do, so another link assisted the friendship. I was working in Richmond with a haberdashery wholesaler. The three of us became firm friends, visiting each other, getting together for events, and so on.

My husband and I moved around a lot, but eventually we ended up in a house in East Burwood.  Joan and Gill had moved into a house a few streets away.  The friendship was getting stronger.  Then life got in the way.  Gill met Andrew, married and moved to Maryborough.  Joan also left that house and at about the same time Paul and I purchased a house in Sunbury.  We kept in contact with Gill, but lost contact with Joan.

The years rolled on and I changed jobs. I now worked in an office tower in Bourke Street. The fire evacuation alarm went off.  My two work colleagues and I went down the fire stairs to the meeting point, got our names checked off, then sneaked into a nearby coffee lounge to grab some morning tea.  While waiting for our order, in walked Joan. Wow, what a surprise.  She had left the trams, met and married hubby Phil and was now living in Maribyrnong.  She too had changed jobs.  We exchanged phone numbers before leaving. It had been almost 10 years, I think.

A few weeks later, Joan and Phil met Paul and I and we all got on really well.  It was the start of a long and wonderful friendship. Our two husbands shared a hobby.  They both loved model trains, joined a club in Sunbury and had boys’ days out.  Joan and I were both into crafts, so we would head up to Bendigo Woollen Mills, Maldon Quilting Shop and more for a girl’s day out.

As neither of us had children and family were far away, we would get together at Christmas and dine at a lovely pub in Maldon, or at each other’s houses.  We spent many happy hours together.  Joan at this time worked at RMH, so she and I would meet for breakfast in Melbourne, often shopping at the Victoria markets before heading to work.  Paul worked in Heidelberg and Phil at the airport, so they weren’t able to join us.
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Joan and I are still friends and now both live here in Benalla. We’ve had our ups and downs, helped each other through bad times and celebrated the good. Our friendship remains strong. Hopefully it will continue for some years yet.


Heather Hartland
​May 2022

My childhood is like a large jigsaw puzzle with many fragments of memories tying together to show a picture of my life.

My father came from a long line of Welsh coal miners, while Mum’s family were all dressmakers and tailors in Somerset.  Both my parents had commenced apprenticeships which were cut short due to the outbreak of WW2.  Neither resumed after it was over. Although Dad found employment money was short.  We couldn’t afford a car so used buses, pushbikes, or walked.  We were rich in the things that mattered, love, care, understanding.

Mum gave up employment to care for me, so my early memories involve her reading books to me or sitting at the table with me while I drew pictures. I also recall the little boy next door who had a tricycle, he would let me ride on the back while he peddled and steered. I remember as I grew and started looking at clothes in fashion magazines, Mum began making patterns and creating those things I had dreamed of wearing.

We had no TV or computers in those days, so we played outside in the good weather.  I was a bit of a tomboy and so gave my parents a few headaches. I often climbed trees, and fell out again, or went tearing down hills on homemade Billy carts. I recall going for a walk one day and seeing a horse in a nearby paddock. Before anyone could stop me, I was through the fence and patting the horse. Sometime later Dad took me to the farm where he worked. The owner had a large Clydesdale horse called Pinocchio. All the farm kids were piled on the horse’s back, you could get 6 in a row, of course we were all small. I recall walking across fields to school and stopping to pet all the farm animals.

My big adventure was when my parents moved to Australia. We travelled to London to get on a plane. I was excited and looking forward to exploring. I didn’t understand the tears at the airport, or why my grandparents and aunts were so distressed.

On arrival we were housed in a migrant camp for a week until our sponsors, Bunning Sawmills, made arrangements to take us to our new home. A timber mill house with backyard dunny and wood burning cooker.  Boy, was that a shock to Mum.

I could go on for hours with our adventures but will cut it short for now.

Suffice to say, a lot of fun was had, lots of adventures and a very happy childhood.


Heather Hartland
​March 2022

​I WAS THERE    …   At the Coronation in Queen Elizabeth.

I have a Welsh background and my parents had very little, but they saved for weeks to afford a trip to London from Wales. I sat on Dad’s shoulder and waved my flag, hidden in the crowd. Like all children in the UK, I was given a signed bible.

​Unfortunately, I was only 3 so I don’t remember much but I’m told I enjoyed the day and went home a tired little bunny.
 
 
I WAS THERE  …   When the Russell Street bombing occurred, 27th March 1986.

I was in the RAAF and my role was to do security checks on all new applicants to the RAAF. I also did security vetting for upgrades to Secret, Top Secret clearances etc. The Victoria Police used to assist us with criminal record checks and identity checks.

I was based in Gratton street, a small records office and my weekly tasks was to walk down to Russell Street police station to pick up any checks/results completed by Vic Pol. 

On the day of the bombing, I had just called in to pick up our documents and was on my way out towards the front of the building. A sergeant called me back to collect an additional document just as the bomb exploded.

I felt the building shake, panic momentarily went through the building, then emergency procedures and training kicked in and we were all evacuated through the back.

As I returned to my workplace I could see a plume of smoke, sirens wailed through the city and news readers began interrupting programs to break the horrifying news.

My boss had feared the worse so as my face appeared round the corner he broke protocol, ran over and hugged me. It was only then that I realized how close I came to being a victim of that shocking attack.

Sadly, Angela Taylor was not so lucky, she became the first police woman to be killed in the line of duty.


Heather Hartland,
February 2022