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Her Story - 'Heather'

19/3/2024

As an unofficial historian I would like to try and give an essence of Heather.

Heather died in her 80th year of lung failure. She had had a healthy life up until her last year.

Born in the King Valley, Heather had two siblings. She was the eldest and definitely not the favourite. The middle child was a boy and the apple of his mother's eye. He could do no wrong. Heather always judged this to be unfair.

Heather had what could only be called a normal childhood.

Always optimistic, Heather was tolerant of human beings. She didn't judge people harshly. Well, not openly out loud. She was friendly to a large proportion of the population.

In turn, Heather was liked by most people who met her. She had a fairly full social life, belonging to many groups and fitting well into the wider community. She would have had a mitigating effect if any of her groups showed signs of extreme behaviour. Always quick to laugh, she could always easily defuse a tricky situation.

Heather started life living in a house on the King Valley side of the cutting. This was quite a crude house with few amenities. The inside was not fully lined and it had a limited supply of cold water. Heather enjoyed living in this house nestled between the River and the Hill, close to both. Heather claimed she could go into the bush and the river whenever she wanted. She might have done this in secret, but most likely would have done it with her siblings and relatives, of which she had many.

In time, Heather's family moved about two miles down the road to a house that is still in the family. This house is on 30 acres and close to the River. You could always hear the river at night. A clearing sale was held on the afternoon they moved in. They had already purchased the property and slept in the house that night. They had to move quickly because the 20 cows which came with the property had to be milked twice every day. In time they also kept pigs, which were the responsibility of Heather's mother. Both her mother and father milked the cows, but her father worked off the farm as much as possible as an agricultural labourer or casual worker in industry.

Heather's father, Tom, was from Paisley in Scotland. He wasn’t Hollywood Scottish as he never wore a kilt. He admitted, however, to having a connection with Robbie Burns and his family had kept intact a pair of Burn’s breeks. Tom had had a privileged upbringing until the time his mother broke with his father, a serious drinker inclined to go on benders which sometimes lasted for weeks. Tom's sympathies were with his mother. The family breakup meant Tom's life changed forever. The business which gave them a comfortable living came to an abrupt end. Tom had to leave school before school leaving age and get a job. In later life he would recall in detail how much he had loved school and how much he missed school. How he sometimes would stand outside the school and watch the pupils going in. He could quote Shakespeare and Wordsworth. Tom's family did not get back together and in time it was decided that Tom would come to Australia and join his relatives in the King Valley. He came to Melbourne by boat and then train to King Valley. He claimed the train journey from Wangaratta to King Valley lasted approximately the same time as the journey from Melbourne to Wangaratta. The train stopped at all 12 stations. Sometimes for an hour.

Heather's mother belonged to a musical family. Her name was Edith but she was called Edie. There was a Laffy family band composed of Edie's father, two brothers, and sister, Edie never sang with the band, instead singing solo songs which highlighted her voice. Her singing career went on long after the Laffy family band split up. Often asked to sing at public occasions, Edie would sometimes take part in talent quests run by the local radio station. All her relatives and friends would listen with interest when this happened. A vinyl record was made of one of her appearances.

Heather did not always get on with Edie. She once ran away from home, or more correctly rode away on her bike. Taking refuge with her Aunt, she extolled a list of complaints. The middle verandah had to be swept. The kitchen floor needed to be washed. The beds had to be made and she was expected to do it all. Quickly, however, Edie was notified and the conversation turned to how fast Heather had ridden her bike. Heather had travelled 8 miles in an hour. How fast was she going?

Heather had a full working life until she married and became a full time housewife. She was good at this occupation, excelled at it even. She got on well with her husband David and in time they raised two well adjusted children. David and Heather had many adventures. David had several careers in various industries and Heather always supported him. It can be stated that Heather and David were soul mates who appreciated each other in the deepest sense. If any marriage can be described as successful then theirs can. This wasn’t all David's fault, Heather had a hand in it as well.

In late middle age, during a bout of illness, Heather gave up smoking 'cold turkey'. She had been a reasonably heavy smoker, quite attached to the joys of smoking. She was never tempted to revert.

Heather was always generous to her relatives and friends and always welcomed people to visit. She was always accommodating if people wanted a meal or to stay the night. This was her strength. It was not always openly appreciated, but it was always understood. It's a cliche, but if any one was generous to a fault then Heather would qualify…

Neville Gibb
March 2024

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'My (Most Memorable) Holiday'

18/3/2024

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When I was 9-years-old my father sent me on a holiday to Sydney for 10 days.

I was to stay with his Aunt. This was unusual because I didn’t know her. I couldn’t put a face to her name. This Aunt was the oldest child in his father’s family. There were four boys and two girls. When the boys grew up, they mostly bought farms in close proximity to each other, but this elder sister had gone to Sydney early in her marriage. Gossip had it, somewhat under a cloud.

My father’s own father had died when he was 9 and, as was fairly common in those days, my father was farmed out to relatives. He never lived with his own mother again until he was an adult. His father had died owing more on the mortgage than the farm was worth, so his wife had no option other than to live with her relatives and for my father and his brother to live with his father’s relatives. My father never saw this particular Aunt as she was already in Sydney, but she always took a particular interest in him. They kept in touch by letter.

My father never mentioned the gossip that was always attached to her. This gossip would surface from time to time from various relatives. It was alluded that she did not marry well. There was an incident when she had stood at the side of the road with a baby in her arms and people had driven past without stopping. At one public gathering some people had publicly ignored her. Cut her completely. Some people did speak about her, but some relatives never ever mentioned her name.

Why my Father and his Aunt arranged for me to go on Holidays I do not know.

I travelled by train from Albury to Central Station. My father put me on the train early in the morning before it was light. I enjoyed the journey. I had lots to look at. I noted with surprise that the land was fairly green all the way from Albury to Sydney. The land in the King Valley was always dry at this time of year. It was night time when I arrived at Central Station. It was a large building. Quite atmospheric. I could smell burnt coal. My great Aunt had no trouble finding me. She hugged and kissed me. This was an unusual thing for me because no one in my family ever kissed anyone else. We were soon on our way to her place. We had to travel by train, then bus and then walk for a fair while.

When I arrived at her house I found she had two of her grandchildren staying with her. One was an exceptionally beautiful 16-year old girl. The other was a Down syndrome girl my age. I gave my Aunt a letter from my father and when she opened it I could see it had money in it. “He shouldn’t have done this”, she said. I had never seen a Down syndrome child before. I was alarmed and concerned. I did not know how to treat her. Her elder sister understood what she said and spoke to her as if she was normal. I only tried speaking to her once and she didn’t reply. She did not look at me. I did not know if she understood. She spoke in mumbles and grunts. My Aunt never explained her situation. She just treated the situation as normal. I did not know how to act.

Whenever we were out, I could see people looking at us. We attracted stares and occasionally children would come and look closely at the Down syndrome girl. Some even tried to touch her face. I always felt ashamed verging on humiliation at the attraction, but my Aunt never wavered in taking everything as normal. Nothing bothered her.

My 16-year old cousin was exceptionally good looking and also attracted interest from men who often whistled. I had never seen this behaviour before. She was blond and had long hair. She was tall and always dressed stylishly. She was the best-looking girl I had ever met. Of course, I was happy to be seen with her.

When I think of it, we did a lot in the week I was in Sydney. My Aunt’s other two grand children were from Central NSW and had never been to Sydney before. She took us to several places. The Zoo. The Aquarium. Manly Beach. We went to a kind of museum with lots of old entertainment machines. I looked into a machine and saw flash cards which showed an Edwardian lady getting ready for bed. I had never seen anything like this before and was shocked. I recorded myself on a primitive tape recorder. I sang, I thought very well, a song we had learned in school. Before I had finished the song, it suddenly started playing back something that I slowly realised was me. I was mortified. I sounded terrible. The joke was - it was broadcast over the public address system for everyone to hear. People actually laughed. Thankfully, it did not go on for long, but I was struck dumb with the humiliation. I wanted to shrink into nothingness. My 16-year old cousin said nothing.

My Aunt lived at one end of her house. Her husband lived at the other end. He was a Tram Driver and a ‘Union Official’, although I did not know what this meant. Trams didn’t run during the day and only started in the afternoon. If her husband came out of his room in the morning, he went straight to the racetrack. It was inferred by my Aunt that he liked to drink too much. She never touched the stuff she said. They didn’t have much to do with each other. He told me he had a special job at the racetrack and offered to show me, but My Aunt said no.

I was once left at home by myself. My Aunt's Husband was supposed to be there, but he went out and left me alone. I took advantage of the situation. I had a good look in all the cupboards.

My Aunt's husband was indeed a drinker. I found at least 4 empty bottles of beer and 1 empty bottle of whisky scattered around his room. His room was large and contained two beds. He only slept on one. His bed looked like it had never been made. He had several well ironed uniforms at one end of his wardrobe. He had at least seven uniform shirts and ties. His special uniform boots were well polished. There were no Masonic Uniforms so he wasn't a Mason. He had several large stacks of Newspapers called Form Guides in one corner. I had never seen them before.

My Aunt's room was different. She had a dresser with a chair and a 3-way mirror. She had a large wardrobe overflowing with clothes. At one end was a small selection of glamorous evening wear. Both dresses and coats. Glamorous shoes. These must have been old because My Aunt was much larger now. Beneath the wardrobe in a drawer was even more glamorous underwear. Including 3 corsets. These corsets were wrapped in expensive looking crepe paper. The corsets were extremely glamorous and could have been used in movies. One had laces up the back. My Aunt must have had a different life in the past.

When it came time for me to leave, my Aunt arranged for one of her sons to take me to Central Station. He was late in coming. This turned into really late. Then there was panic. There would not be any time to get to the Station. But suddenly he was outside, and I had to grab my bag and get into his truck. The truck didn’t even stop moving. There was no opportunity to say goodbye. My Aunt stood at the front door and waved goodbye. I waved back. I thought she looked sorry I was leaving. I genuinely wanted to hug her. I found myself suppressing sobs. I turned my face aside and tried not to let my Aunt’s son see I was crying.

My Aunt was by no means the only black sheep in the family. There was a brother who was a genuine black sheep. He was always known as ‘young Albert’ if he was ever mentioned. Information about him only came out in small spurts. His name was persona non grata. He had more-or-less been removed from family history. He had impregnated a girl when he was quite young - he was forced to marry her - but he abandoned her soon after the marriage and departed for areas unknown. She stayed in the area, much to everyone’s regret. Unfortunately, she had a stroke when she was 30 from which she never really recovered. But she was guilty by association. No one in the family really spoke to her - except for my father and this particular Aunt who now lived in Sydney. This poor woman, who had to live with the slights of her husband’s family, always wore an excess of rouge on her cheeks and always had trouble with her lipstick. Her teeth were always smudged bright red. She would sit on the public seat in the main street and was always pleased to recognise my father. When I was with my father, I would look at her makeup and teeth and not know how to act. She always mentioned that she had recently received a letter from my father’s Aunt in Sydney.

Neville Gibb
February 2024

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Her Story - 'Heather'

'My (Most Memorable) Holiday'

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