I was always a dreamer, never really deciding on any particular career, always seeking change and variety. My Mother was old school and so wasn’t particularly perturbed by my lack of direction. In her mind I would end up as someone’s wife with my primary role being to care for family. I had so many other ideas but couldn’t settle on any one in particular.

Then came the trip that provided the turning point and lead to a totally different direction. I did some travelling finding myself back in the UK, reuniting with the family. My cousin lived in London and enthusiastically took me out and about. I told of my passion for crime novels and reading about true crime and he joked about me joining the Met. I laughed saying I’m not good enough, didn’t excel in school. Long story short, there was a recruiting campaign on, encouraging people from all walks of life to apply. We had a wager, I said not a hope, they won’t take me, he said, you’ll get in no probs. I had secured a holiday job in a department store to fund my travels, so I wasn’t too fussed if I got in or not.

The application was duly completed and sent. I forgot about it and continued sightseeing. Then I got that letter, an invite to Scotland Yard, yikes what had I done. My Aunt accompanied me and off we went, by train, to my appointment. After passing the security checks going in, I was ushered to a quiet room with other applicants while my aunt was taken elsewhere. One by one we were taken into the next room; each person went in but never came out. Where did they go. I found myself getting rather apprehensive.

My turn came and I was taken through the door to a rather scary room, dull and formal looking. Three people sat behind a desk, all in uniform and looking rather stern. I sat before them and answered multiple questions being thrown at me simultaneously. It reminded me a little of some of the courtroom dramas or interrogation rooms I had seen in movies. After the grilling I was taken to yet another room, this time, non-uniform people. I wasn’t sure if they were fellow applicants or not, but we had tea and discussed our lives, experiences etc. Very casual, like strangers who meet in tour groups. Then I was taken to the canteen where a complimentary lunch was provided. We, the applicants, then chatted about our experience.

An hour later we were called, one by one, to the big boss, who told us our fate. I was in!!!!! Yikes, how did I manage that?  I paid my wager, dinner out for my cousin. A month later I received a package with my join up documentation. I was to be housed in a section house in London right next door to the training college in Hendon. There my newfound life would begin. I served 3 years in the British Police before returning home with more confidence in myself and more direction in my life. I joined the RAAF Police and Security division where I had a great career. 


Heather Hartland
​October 2024

Relationships are an integral part of our lives and intertwine into the complex web of life creating the building blocks for who we become. It begins on day 1 when we are born and the bond between mother and child is formed. My bond was strong as I was my parents third child, but the first to survive. My life was full of parental love and the love of family. I felt secure and safe and was especially close to Mum. Times were tough so Dad worked long hours, while Mum took in washing and ironing to ensure we had the essentials of life.

Through this I learnt to appreciate what I had and to work hard to obtain my goals. I was already in primary school by the time my two sisters were born and my parents worked hard to ensure we bonded and there was no jealousy. I felt privileged because I had a real live doll where my friends only had toys. Though I’m not sure that’s the lesson Mum intended me to learn.

On one occasion my sister was in her carry cot crying while Mum was in the kitchen. Trying to be helpful I decided to take her to Mum. I carefully lined this cot up at the top of the stairs, gave it a push, sliding it all the way down. Luckily no damage was done, but Mum was quick to explain the error of my ways. The relationship between my parents was strong and helped them through a war and numerous difficulties which led them to seek a new life in Australia.

My Aunt was a big influence, she and I had a strong bond.  I spent many hours with her watching her create beautiful landscape paintings, or sculptures from a lump of clay. From her I got my creative side. She encouraged me to trust myself and have the confidence to “go for it”. Whatever my goal, she believed I could achieve it.

I was a dreamer, often gazing out of the window and imagining what my future may hold. This led to me getting into trouble with teachers and of course, the inevitable parent teacher chats. I built strong friendships with other pupils.  We were taught the value of teamwork and learning to relate to others. Teacher pupil relationships varied, some we really loved, but our math teacher was rather stern, so we didn’t like him so much. He had the amazing talent of writing on the board with his back to the class, then spinning around and throwing the chalk at the exact pupil who was talking or playing up. “How could he see through the back of his head?” we asked.

Many relationships shaped my life, teachers, employers, work colleagues, friends. During my Airforce career the importance of teamwork and careful planning were valuable lessons learnt and afforded me new opportunities after my service finished. I built some very strong friendships and a new confidence in my ability to handle whatever life throws my way. 


Heather Hartland
​October 2024

​​Many years ago, my husband and I had taken some leave from the RAAF to holiday back in WA with my family. We had the simple task of babysitting a 3-year-old boy. His mother, my sister, was having some medical tests done. Now you would think, two ADF personnel could handle one small boy.  Wrong !!!
 
We had taken him for ice cream on the foreshore before going into the nearby shopping centre for a look around.  We walked past the toys where he showed a great deal of interest. I had been holding his hand till he sat on the floor looking at a big red fire truck with considerable interest. I was looking at other toys for his older sister’s birthday, while Paul looked elsewhere.
 
After 10 minutes or so, I looked at the time and selected my purchase, ready to go and pick up my sister.  Horrified, I turned to find our adventurous 3-year-old had vanished.
 
I joined Paul to see if he was with him, no luck. Panicking we both left in opposite directions to look for him. We searched the store with no luck. We advised the help desk, who put out an announcement. We scanned the mall outside and Paul raced out to the parking area in case he’d strayed outside. I did another run around the store.  We both dreaded the task of telling my sister we had lost her son. We even tossed a coin to see who got the scary task of telling her.
 
Not to be beaten, the store manager and I commenced a systematic search of the store, reasoning that he could not have gone far in such a short timeframe. He had to be exploring somewhere! We even saw other customers looking inside kennels, behind displays and any other place a little boy could hide. After all, his favorite game was hide and seek, he was good at that.
 
With an amused look on her face, another customer pointed out some stock lying on the floor in two or three spots.  We followed this trail of chaos. Perhaps he had been rearranging things?  No, the offender was a rather precocious little girl.
 
Then the call came over the loudspeakers, “would the parents of a little blond boy in a blue track suit, approximately 3 to 4 years old, please come to the Garden Centre”.
 
A ray of hope!
 
We approached the garden centre where a rather amused shop assistant pointed out a little boy, covered in potting mix, happily pulling plants out of their pots and carefully placing them into the ornamental pond.
 
I was overcome with a sense of relief that he was safe and well, but was horrified at the state of him, and the destroyed displays. Very embarrassed, we offered to pay for any damages and explained our situation.
 
We decided to buy him a new outfit and to race into the nearest public loo to clean him up before returning him to his mum.

Alas, she caught us!  She had finished early and was walking towards the coffee lounge where we had arranged to meet.

​Fortunately, she saw the funny side of the situation.
 
​
Heather Hartland
August 2024

​After leaving school I worked as a vet nurse from 7am to 3pm, then at a racing stable from 4pm to 6pm.  I loved animals but lacked the necessary qualifications to progress to become a vet. I tried purchasing a racehorse, arranging to have him trained and cared for at the racing stables where I worked in lieu of wages. His name was Gaymist. Sadly, he was more workhorse than racehorse and ended up being sold to a riding school. I did some travelling then commenced work in a trotting stable with the Kersley family, well known in WA. Of course, I had high ideas of becoming a trainer too. I bought a trotter called Daniel Boone in partnership with my then boyfriend. Well, that horse loved to stay at the back of the field and admire the rumps of the horses in front of him. Another failure. I sold my share of that horse to the boyfriend and said goodbye to them. Yes, both horse and boyfriend were bad decisions.

Some more travelling and a look at more attainable careers. I served 3 years in the British Police before returning home and joining the RAAF Police and Security division.

My brilliant career was one I came upon by accident, literally.  After 15yrs I had left the RAAF and settled in Victoria with my husband. A variety of jobs followed before joining the Godfrey Hirst Group. The Government had a scheme where employers were offered financial incentives to offer an apprenticeship to older workers, so I took full advantage of that. I did Human Resources initially, becoming the HR manager at their Geelong site. I loved it.

One fateful day I was onsite with a WorkSafe inspector and a site manager reviewing employee training following a workplace accident. As we walked and talked, I stepped off a loading dock, next to the actual steps, and found myself doing a very embarrassing faceplant in the concrete. Not my finest hour. At least WorkSafe was on hand!!

Upon being cleared to resume work on modified duties, I had numerous meetings with my boss, my Doctor and the insurer’s case manager and found myself becoming interested in Return to Work (RTW) solutions. Godfrey Hirst had employment opportunities in their Preston and Reservoir sites for OHS managers and could still take advantage of that Govt incentive, so off I went to Uni and WorkSafe for training. It caused great amusement when I attended OHS training on crutches.

​'You've travelled through time and encounter a younger version of yourself.  What life lesson (or lessons) would you share?'
​
I had a great life full of variety, experiences and, above all, change. So, it’s difficult to say what advice I would offer my younger self. Perhaps I would suggest that I stop being reserved, shy, quiet and self-doubting and go for it... "Whatever your goal or dream, go for it. Don’t conform to the stereotype that society maps out for you, make a change, make a difference. Be yourself."

In my early years women were still restricted as to career options, finance, and so on. . We couldn’t get a loan for a house without a male guarantor. Jobs for women were usually clerical, sales catering etc. On marrying, we were expected to give up our jobs to raise the children and care for our husbands.

My mother was an apprentice dressmaker, her father was a tailor. She gave up her career to marry Dad, but ended up in a munitions factory during WW2. After the war she stayed home and cared for him, and eventually me. My Aunt was a bit of a rebel and chose a career over marriage and children. We often talked long and hard about my dreams hopes and ambitions and she tried hard to encourage me to try. Sadly, I gave in to pressures of society and missed a lot of opportunities. So, if I were to meet my younger self I would say, listen to your aunt.

She loved photography, taking lots of shots of nature. She was also an accomplished artist and we often sat by a river, or in the gardens where she painted whatever was in front of her. I sat watching in awe of her talent, I idolised her. I confessed to her that I wanted to be an author and artist, travelling the world. I even dreamed of travelling on a canal boat as some of her friends did. Sailing up and down rivers and mooring wherever or whenever the mood took me. I even thought of being a vet or horse breeder, perhaps owning a property where I could let out cabins to artists. My aunt and I laughed over dreams of us co owning the property, much to my parents’ horror.

Had we stayed in Wales, who knows, I may have tried to achieve some of these dreams with my aunt’s encouragement. However, with a new baby and toddler (my sisters) and Dad being a broken man after some awful experiences in the war, things were tough in the UK, so our family came to Australia.

I was engrossed in exploring the new surroundings and ended up, predictably, working in a shop, then becoming a vet nurse. I did start to travel a bit to explore my new home and when finances permitted, I returned to the UK to visit relatives. Under my aunt's influence I did investigate alternate careers so on my return home I sought, and achieved my RAAF career, then my OHS career.

No major regrets, so little advice to offer other than, whatever your goal or dream,

"GO FOR IT!".


Heather Hartland
May 2024

​My best holiday was also my worst holiday. I know that sounds crazy, but it's true. It all began in 1970 when I, and three friends, decided to do a cruise. We researched all the options and decided on the Fairstar, a magnificent ship, small by comparison with today’s cruise liners, but back then, state of the art.  We selected a 4-berth cabin down in the lower decks with ensuite. Departing from Fremantle W.A, we did the 4-week cruise to the UK, stopping off at several countries. The return trip was to be via the Panama Canal.

We all originated from countries outside Australia and were keen to explore our roots. I had arranged a visa for a three-year working holiday so I could reunite with family who I hadn’t seen since pre-primary. We enjoyed the onboard entertainment, shops, cafés and cinema. However, showing a movie about a sinking ship probably wasn’t the best choice. 

During the first week we were all seasick. Not a good start.  After awhile we got our sea legs, by this time we were in South Africa. We docked at Durban initially, went on the organized tour around town, great stuff. 

We returned to the docks to discover something had gone wrong with the ship. We were stranded until repairs could be carried out!  This was a bit scary being in a strange country, but the shipping line took care of us.

We were told we had two options, stay in a hotel in town, at company expense until we could rejoin the ship. Or join an overland safari, also at company expense, and rejoin the ship in Capetown, its next scheduled stop. We opted for the latter, not thinking what we would do if the ship didn’t make it to Capetown.

Our cabin luggage was transferred to the bus and off we went, one of the highlights of the trip. Travelling through safari parks, the waterfall trail, then eventually via nature reserves and into Capetown. Plenty of magnificent wildlife, photos to be taken. There was even a road around a steep cliff on the bay near Capetown, well, they called it a road. More like a goat track clinging to a mountain, very scary, especially when another bus came the other way, also full of terrified tourists like us. This required much jiggling and maneuvering by the drivers.  We also called into a Zulu village. Very friendly people. We got to see their traditional way of living, very primitive by today's standards but effective. The women made beaded bracelets and necklaces for the tourists, the men made spears and carved wooden objects. At least it was a souvenir.

We were relieved when, finally, we were able to board the ship. Back to comfortable cabins after rough campsites and creepy crawlies.  Two nights roughing it was enough, thank you!

After Africa came Portugal, docking at Lisbon where an array of colorful markets which tempted us once again. Our final stop was in Holland. I loved that place, so clean and fresh. Very friendly people and the best cheese ever. We did all the touristy stuff, windmills and so on. We finally docked in London, finishing our trip on a high note.

My working holiday in London was, however, marred by the IRA and their random bombings (the subject of a previous story); the death of one of my travel companions in a road accident and the early departure of the other two.

On a positive note, I was able to see my grandparents before they passed and was reunited with my favorite Auntie, who made sure I had a really fun holiday travelling around the UK. 
​

Heather Hartland
April 2024

​I have touched on this in previous stories but one of my many and varied experiences occurred back in the 1970’s in London. I was on a working holiday in the UK and, with my Welsh heritage, was able to travel on a British passport and work to fund my trip.

The day began with lovely sunshine and new friends made during my travels. We were all young and enthusiastic, keen to explore, try new things and have new experiences. Be careful what you wish for. I had only been in London for 6 months and was keen to explore places I had only heard about, the big stores etc. On this day we went down to a narrow subway under a block of business offices heading toward the Thames River, leaving the traffic noise and crowds behind us. Suddenly there was a loud bang, and I remember thinking car accident. Debris was flying around me, then darkness. I will never forget that weird sensation of being confused, bewildered as I looked around, somehow, I was lying on the floor, I don’t recall falling. My friends were gone, I didn’t know where. Nearby was a rough looking young man with blood on his head. Another man was crawling towards us. A woman next to me was crying. Where was the sky? Why couldn’t I see. We all huddled together trying to keep each other calm as we tried to figure out what was going on.

By now the noise had gone, the dust settled but it was dark, like we were in a cave. This being before mobile phones we could not call anyone; we were on our own. We were joined by another man who said, I think we are in trouble. What an understatement. We sat for ages, trying to chat, trying to figure things out in our dark and silent place.

We introduced each other and Tom, the newest arrival said “don’t panic but I think that was a bomb”. Wow, I had heard about random bomb threats, bombings etc. but here? Now? Can’t be. We all dismissed that thought; it was too scary to contemplate. There were no Govt buildings in this area, no police stations that were normally the targets. Tom then admitted he was a detective and had just called in to pick up the lunch orders before heading in to the police station. I’ve often heard jokes about, you can never find a policeman when you need one, well we had our own!!!

Another man then introduced himself as Father Murphy, not the best name under the circumstances.  He started us singing silly songs and telling jokes. I had no way of knowing how long we had been there but it seemed like forever. Eventually Father Murphy offered prayers and begged the Lord for help. None of us were believers but he tried to reassure us stating God would help us. The blood covered man, never told us his name, said “Has he got a @#@!@# shovel then?? We laughed; it broke the tension. The priest looked up and suddenly there was a chink of light and a voice said, is anybody in there?

We began calling out, yelling and laughing at the same time. Relieved that help had arrived and amused that the priest had appeared to summon help from above. The hole got bigger and one by one we were hauled out of our cave. A fleet of ambulances stood waiting for us and first aid administered. On that day I began my journey towards becoming a Christian and vowed to take each day as it comes and make the most of my life. Make every day count.

We had survived 10 hours under the rubble of the office building that had collapsed on our laneway. It was indeed an IRA bombing.

I was uninjured but one thing I really desperately needed was ...

… a loo !!!!!!!! 


Heather Hartland
​February 2024

Following some renovations, I had changed the designation of some rooms and of course, re-arranged the whole house again. I guess you could say that renovating or decorating triggers a need for change.  I have been in this house too long, 8 years, it’s a record for me. Anyway, being unable to move house I had decided that the old bedroom at the front of the house would become my combined office and sewing/quilting room. The walls are floor to ceiling bookshelves which meant I could get my books out of boxes and place them on shelf like a mini library. Just looking through my books as I placed them carefully in category triggered an assortment of memories.

Some books on historical towns and places in the UK brought back memories of my childhood. Then some books by James Herriot about his life as a vet reminded me of my days as a vet nurse, an early career. The Dick Francis books about crime around the racing industry, reminded me of my school holiday job in a racing stable and my purchase of a not so smart racehorse.

With some books it was not so much the author or the topic, but how I came to have that book. I have an edition of Black Beauty by Anna Sewell given to me as a Christmas gift by my best friend and school buddy Alison just prior to our immigration to Australia.

Even older is a rather worn edition of a book by Thomas Hughes entitled, The Scouring of the White Horse first published in 1859.  It’s one of a series written specifically for the education of children and was given to me by my Auntie, who felt I needed a proper education.  We spent many hours together as I watched her paint and create amazing works of art.

The final book which triggers memories is one which I do not recall receiving. It was presented to me at the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II in 1953. I, along with many other children in the UK, travelled to London to watch this historic event and we all received a small bible which had our names hand-written into an official royal label. The logistics behind this was never explained, my family certainly did not know the royal family. However it came about, it is amongst my most treasured possessions. These three books come with me everywhere as they create warm and happy feelings of a wonderful childhood. I was blessed with very loving family.

Everything in life can be a trigger, from watching a TV show to attending a local fete. From reading a book to visiting a local landmark. I have had a very nomadic and varied life with a lot of experiences and, given that most of my possessions are of sentimental value rather than of high monetary value, they trigger memories of my life. Let’s hope I am spared the dreaded 'old timers, because I would hate to lose these connection to my past. 


Heather Hartland
November, 2023 

I have never been one to believe in numerology and the like, however, after reading an article on prime numbers where the author said that everyone has a prime or dominant number in their lives, I had a re-think. My prime number is 3.

I am my parents’ 3rd child but the first to survive past a few weeks. I am now the eldest of 3 children. I had 3 Aunties.  During my life I became engaged 3 times (3rd time lucky). My husband and mother both celebrated birthdays on 3rd Sept and my parents married on 3rd Sept 1939.

I have had 3 main careers in my life, London Metro Police, RAAF and OHS/HR Manager. With the RAAF, I had applied for all 3 services and been interviewed for all 3. The 3rd application worked and I joined the RAAF, where I had 3 types of careers. I was initially recruited as a general hand but then got re-routed to Clerical. During my training they read my work history and decided RAAF Police and Security was a better option, so that’s what I ended up doing.  

I have been caught up in 3 natural disasters, earthquake, fire and flood. I have survived 3 bombings, two were in London and the 3rd in Melbourne.

I have miraculously escaped death 3 times, once in a major car accident, once in the earthquake and lastly when the building I worked in in Russell Street was bombed.

I have even had cancer 3 times and surgery 3 times as a result.

Oh and of course, my pregnant mum used to travel by bus to the hospital for her check ups.  This was her 3rd trip.  My birth seemed imminent and this time …….it was. The conductor called out, "Any fares, please". I arrived…...much to the shock of all concerned. The surprised driver detoured into the hospital emergency entrance where we were carefully collected. Of course, it was a number 3 bus!


Heather Wallace, 
October 2023

A word that puts excitement into the lives of some and fear in others. For some it’s a time to fulfil all those ambitions and dreams that were placed on hold while working. Yet for others it’s a time of thinking what now?

Sadly, I was in the latter category. I was lucky in that I was never unemployed. I had a variety of interesting careers which meant that every day I was up, off and running to complete the days tasks. Some of my career choices were in those occupations where regular hours are impossible and one never knew what the day was going to bring. Travel also featured prominently so life was never dull. The one thing I had no experience of was taking it easy. That was a totally alien concept. The thought of getting up in the morning with nowhere I had to be, scared me.

So, that day that we were gathered in the canteen and told that we were all to be made redundant, the company was closing, was a devastating blow. The company made up amazing resumes which were sent out on our behalf to assist us with job applications. But it appears that 20yrs in the industry and a good reputation means nothing when competing with 20 something uni grads. I was on the scrap heap. Mid 60’s and wiped off the employment list. Scary stuff. Suddenly the excitement in my day was cleaning out a cupboard, sitting in my sewing room, or pottering in the garden. For some that was pleasure, for me it was boredom. A kind of home detention. I had to fix this.

During the last year of employment, we had been looking for a house in N.E. Victoria//Southern NSW as a holiday home and eventual retirement place. Somewhere out of the hustle and bustle of city life and closer to family. Then my husband got offered an early retirement package which he readily accepted. Plans accelerated and we sold our city house, found our rural home and off we went. Ready to start a new life as retirees. Whatever that may be.

Well, I quickly learnt that you don’t stand in the middle of Benalla and say I want to volunteer, you get run over in the rush. After the basic unpacking and sorting I was bored already so I went was the Information Centre to see what was in and around Benalla. I asked if there were any volunteering roles so I could try to fill in my day. I became a volunteer at the Centre where I learnt all about my new home. During training I was shown the Aviation Museum, so I found myself working there too. Of course, I ended up in the RSL having transferred membership and there I met the Salvos chaplain who introduced me to the Op Shop where I began volunteering. Through that I met CWA ladies and of course, volunteer there too. My neighbor introduced me to Probus where I eventually became newsletter editor, then secretary. Paul became Vice President at the RSL and attended a Lions changeover dinner with me as guest. That lead to me joining Lions where I became involved with the driver reviver program, kids public speaking comp, raffles, fundraisers and the antiques fair. I eventually became secretary there too. I also got introduced to U3A, and found many interesting social groups to join.

After 8 years of retirement, I currently am secretary to the RSL, GV Rail and VT Lions. Vice President of CWA as well as being their craft coordinator. I do newsletters for two organizations and I still volunteer at the op shop, the Aviation Museum and assist with RSL Welfare and my most recent achievement, I actually joined the Salvos!

One day I’ll look up that word “retirement” and see what it means!

​Heather Hartland
August 2023

"I Changed my mind" – the story of my life, of constant changing of directions.

Studying history in school we learnt about how life was in our parents and grandparents’ day and the long struggle undertaken by pioneering women who changed the way we are perceived in society.  I learnt a great deal in studying the transition of women from being bred to care for the men and populate the country, to being individuals with intelligence and freedom to choose a path in life. With encouragement from both parents, I was inspired to work hard to achieve my goals. Though those goals kept moving, too.
 
The influence of my very artistic Aunt during my early childhood lead me towards becoming an author, or artist. I spent many hours watching her paint, create sculptures and write inspiring articles. Then our family began a new life in Australia so the earlier influences on my life, that aunt, my grandparents and a cousin, were not such a strong factor. I had made new connections.
 
I did all my schooling in WA and wanted to be a vet after assisting in a local vet clinic after school and during school holidays. Then a farmer, because I loved animals and grew up in a farming area. I even had ideas of being in the police after watching UK crime dramas. Then I thought of a job on a cruise ship, though after my two cruise holidays I decided that definitely wasn’t an option - ships bounce around too much. I kept drifting from one to another, trying each career in turn and generally mastering not much!!!
 
Things changed rather dramatically following two events in my life.
 
One was visiting London at a time the IRA was very active. I was in London with my cousin and we had had long talks about career life etc. I said that I had not been that good at school and most careers I had thought of probably wouldn’t happen. My cousin asked why I didn’t follow my police dream.  I said I wasn’t good enough, however he insisted that they need people and would train me. The IRA were very active,  Experienced officers were needed to combat those incidents, while new recruits were needed to do the basic stuff. We had a bet about whether I would be accepted. I lost! They chose me………………
 
The second event was a chance encounter on a bridge. I had been through some awful experiences and had changed my mind again about being a police officer in the UK. I yearned for family and the peace of Australia. I was standing on a bridge overlooking the Thames River, deep in thought and constantly changing my mind about what to do next. A voice said, please come away from the edge, come talk to me, nothing can be that bad. I stepped back and found myself talking to a Salvation Army Officer. After boring him for 2 hours, I made the decision to return to Australia and explore career paths there.

Once safely back at home I looked at past jobs, looked at police work and decided to find something less stressful. Again, I changed my mind, deciding I had learnt a lot about myself by getting into the police, why waste it? I applied to the Navy, changing my mind when I recalled those heaving ships on cruises. So, I ended up in the RAAF. It turned out to be a good move. They put me in the Police and Security division and I had a long and rewarding career.  Well, long for me.
 
When I eventually got out of the RAAF I had careers in Human resources, Occupational Health and Safety, Stock control and purchasing. I just kept changing my mind…………………………………
 
Now I’m sort of retired, but that’s a future topic.


Heather Hartland
​July 2023

Studying history in school we learnt about how life was in our parents and grandparents’ day and the long struggle undertaken by pioneering women who changed the way we are perceived in society.  The transition of women from being bred to care for the men and populate the country, to being individuals with intelligence and freedom to choose a path. With encouragement from both parents, I was inspired to work hard to achieve my goals.
 
The place of women in Australian society fitted the typical stereotype staying at home to look after the house and any children. However, When World War I broke out, many women took on different roles:

• volunteering in the Red Cross
• working for soldiers' comfort funds
• raising funds for wartime charities that worked overseas

 
In the UK and Australia, the men were sent to fight the war while the women filled their jobs in manufacturing, agricultural etc on the home front. Their work was vital in keeping things going until the men returned and resumed their jobs. Others provided support on the front lines as nurses, doctors, ambulance drivers, and translators. They were not considered suitable for front line duties.
​
However, World War I didn't create lasting changes in the roles of women. They had to relinquish their jobs to the men when they returned. They still worked in traditionally female roles at the end of the war, and by 1921, the number of women in paid employment had actually declined considerably compared to 1911.
 
During the 1920s and 1930s, Australia developed the Anzac tradition that had begun in 1915 (and that we still observe today). The Anzac legend became an important element in Australia's remembrance of the war and its national identity. The war was mostly fought by men, so the ANZAC legend focussed on men's achievements. At that time, the role of women was commemorated in a much smaller way, with a focus on nursing.
 
Women's organisations that were active during the war included:

• Australian Women's National League
• Australian Red Cross
• Country Women's Association
• Voluntary Aid Detachment
• Australian Women's Service Corps
• Women's Christian Temperance Union

Melbourne woman, Vera Deakin, set up the Red Cross Missing and Wounded Enquiry Bureau. The organisation tried to get information to the families of soldiers who either:

• had been killed
• were listed as missing
• were wounded
• had been taken prisoner

 
Women could join the services in clerical type roles, communications and plotters, as well as nursing. Those involved in code breaking, communications or plotting were essential in combatting our enemies. Australian Nurses played a vital role in caring for the injured. It was not until World War II that women took on service jobs, working in areas that were previously male-only occupations. The women’s services were operated as separate entities alongside the men. So, the WRENS, WRANS and WRAAF was born. However once married, they were encouraged to resign. 
 
Later in the 1980’s, things began to change and the women’s services gradually blended with mens and we all became Army, Navy or Airforce. Women today are deployed into war zones, on overseas duty and are actively involved in the Defence of our country.  
 
Here in Benalla, we have a female Petty Officer who was the first female to serve aboard an Australian submarine.  In the cemetery here lies Sgt Mabel Shannon, a Wangaratta lady, who enlisted in the RAAF in 1942. Her unit was No1 Wireless Air Gunners school. Sadly, she passed away in 1943 from illness while employed as a drill instructor, before she could realize her full potential.
 
As has been made known recently with the unveiling of the memorial in Devenish, Vivian Bullwinkel was an Australian Army nurse born in S.A. She was the sole survivor of the 1942 Banka Island massacre, served in Singapore and Malaya. She found herself on Banka Island after the ship she was travelling in was sunk by the Japanese.
 
Whilst this may sound like a women’s lib speech, it's more about how things have changed over the years. Acknowledging the work done by women but also being an advocate of equality in that anyone has the right to learn, grow and achieve in this world, regardless of gender, colour, religion or race. 


Heather Hartland
May 2023

I have had so many influences in my life, good and bad. Many experiences too but one lesson learned from history and from my favourite Aunt was that if you want something badly enough, and work hard enough towards your goal, you can achieve. You must believe in you

Learning about the changing role of women in history enabled me to shape my own future
My parents, grandparents, Aunts and Uncles were in the British forces so the ANZAC legend did not feature strongly in my family. However, it was certainly strong in my husband’s family. Then as I began my RAAF career the ANZAC legend became more prominent in my life. I began to understand what it meant, the sacrifices and the achievements. I always marched in Honor of those who served.

Each year we pay homage not only to those original ANZACs, but to all who died or were disabled in their service to this country. They enrich our nation’s history. Their hope was for the freedom of mankind and we remember with pride their courage, their compassion and their comradeship. They served on land and sea and in the air, in many places throughout the world. Side by side, black and white, rich and poor, people of many cultures fought for Australia, their home.

The Spirit of ANZAC is an intangible thing. It is unseen, unpredictable, an unquenchable thirst for justice, freedom and peace. This phrase is synonymous with   'The Spirit of the Anzacs’   However, despite being intangible, the Spirit of ANZAC is an integral part of our heritage.

On the morning of April 25th, 1915, Australian and New Zealand troops landed under fire at Gallipoli, and it was then and in the violent campaign which followed, that the ANZAC tradition was forged.

This is something which has been a significant influence on my life with family connections and my own service career. Seeing those old diggers marching and the emotions they showed at the services across Australia. Hearing their stories as we sat in various RSL halls following marches and talking to the unsung heroes, the families of those who served. Reading numerous books on the subject with more and more information being released as its declassified. I also fear for our future as we do not appear to have learnt to live in peace.  Wars still break out; people still suffer.
​

Heather Hartland
May 2023

​​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.
​
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...
​
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.
​
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