We are obviously shaped by childhood. Lots of things happen in childhood. We remember them. Some things are indelibly written into our memories.We watch our parents and maybe try and do what they did. We try to live up to our parents expectations of us. Their beliefs are imprinted on us.

My parents were both hard working.

My father felt he had achieved something by owning a dairy farm.  He felt he was privileged to own a farm. He was willing to do whatever it took to improve it, willing to play by the rules. He always worked hard without any complaints. Nothing interfered with his work. He was as regular as clockwork and was willing to work through illness. He sometimes suffered from malaria, but it never stopped him working. He did not like to be away from the farm.

My mother was much the same. She didn't like housework, however, preferring to work outdoors. She always said she would have liked to have been a boy and regretted that she was not shown how to do certain things when she was a child because she was a girl. She came from a large Irish family and she was the second youngest. There were several older brothers and then there was a gap of several years before three younger children were born of which two were girls. The two younger girls were kept separate from the others. My mother always claimed that they were never let do anything outside the house. It was her constant sorrow that she was never able to do certain things on the farm. She often said she was never allowed to assist at the forced birth of a poddy calf. She often said she was never shown how to work a posthole digger. She never learned to drive a car or a tractor.

My mother and father had known each other as young people. They lived in the same valley.

Both my parents mostly led lives within their own family group, my mother more so than my father. Neither had many friends outside the extended family. My mother never really strayed outside her extended family group and her closest confident was her sister. My mother had lots of relatives that she liked and enjoyed their company. She often met female relatives when she was shopping and this gave her great delight. She enjoyed visiting her relatives socially and she was never happier than when they visited in masse at Christmas or on birthdays.

My father was a sociable man and was quite popular. He did not restrict himself entirely to his relatives. He belonged to several community groups, but it was obvious that family members were the most important people in his life.  My father also had a large extended family. Quite often distant relatives of his would turn up and they would treat him with a lot of affection. He had been in the war and was treated as a war hero. Especially by some aged relatives.

I have been imprinted with my parents work ethic. I have always felt obliged to do my best. I have always worked hard in whatever job I have had. I have always given more to the job than was  required.

So much so that since retirement I have nightmares about not working. I have been constantly plagued by a continuing nightmare.

I am at a loss because I have nothing to do and I am not sure about what I should do. I dream that I am in a job where my work is not specified. I am in a job where I have no computer print out and I don’t know where to get a new one. I am in a job where I have been sent to a new office and there is nothing to do and I have to look for work. I am in a new job and there are no desks and certainly not one for me.


Neville Gibb
May 2023

When we arrived at Essendon airport, we went through Immigration.  An officer looked at us all, asking Mum to put us all in order of age, which she did. Looking at our family passport, He said, “Yeah, you all look about the same as this lot on here”. Then onto customs.  Between the 10 of us we had 12 suitcases full of clothing, bedding, you name it, we had it in those suitcases. After looking through two cases an officer asked dad if all the suitcases held the same sort of stuff. Dad said “Yes”. The officer said, “on your way”. 
                                               
My whole family, and luggage, were squeezed into a VW kombi van and driven to a place 11 miles from Bacchus Marsh called the “Lady Northcote Farm School”.

When we arrived, we were all taken into a big hall to eat. At about 7pm my parents and eldest brother were driven away in the Kombi van. My three youngest brothers were taken by a woman out of the hall, my two sisters were taken out of the hall by another lady, another brother and I were taken to a third cottage on the property. 
                                                                                             
This farm was for migrants who came from overseas. The parents and working age kids would live in the migrant hostel in Melbourne, get work and save money to get a home. The younger kids all went to the “Lady Northcote Farm School”.

Although it was classed as a school, 'The Lady Northcote Farm School' was more like a Detention centre.  Along with a few Pommie kids, there were Wards of the State, Orphans, and naughty kids.

The older kids travelled by bus to Bacchus Marsh High School. The juniors walked to a Primary school just down the road to “Northcote”.   
                                                                                                                                                
I learnt a lot at “Northcote”.  It was a very different lifestyle to England...


(… to be continued)…   
​ 

Tom Barnaby
May 2023               

I remember as a quite young boy getting up early in the morning in Spring and Summer when the topdressing aircraft arrived and we were topdressing the hill farm with fertilizer.

I was in awe at the way the pilot of the Fletcher aircraft would take off on our hill airstrip with a full load of fertilizer and then at a low level, perhaps about 200 feet above the ground and follow the hills and valleys until the job was done.

A few years later when I was 8 years old we went to the Rotorua aerodrome for the airshow.  Early in the afternoon an RNZAF Vampire jet came in at a very low level pass (about 50 feet above the ground) and I said to myself, that’s what I want to do when I grow up.

I read many books abut WW2 and the expoits/autobiographies of WW2 fighter pilots and Bomber pilots including names such as Group Captain Sir Douglas Bader (no legs) and Wing Commander Stanford Tuck. Also the leader of the Dambuster raid Group Captain Leonard Cheshire VC. He also was instrumental as a Pathfinder Pilot on Lancaster Bombers.

My mother gave me an Oxford English Dictionary for my 12th Christmas and she wrote in it “Reach For the Sky”.

I wanted to join the Air Force as soon as I left School, but was persuaded to wait and go to University to get a degree, I chose Agriculture (farming upbringing and work)

However when I completed my degrees and was 23 years of age I decided that this was the time as the limit for pilots was 24 years.

I joined in January 1976 in 176 aircrew course.

Basic training included, drills , marching , physical fitness (I was also a smoker so physical fitness was very hard). We completed 6 months of classroom training in all subjects aligned to flying, maths, physics, meteorology, airframes , aerodynamics and Officer Training. We also had the chance to complete a few hours flying to keep us interested!

Real flying began on the North American AT6 Harvard, with a powerful 560 HP radial engine, Max speed of 205 Nautical miles per hour (Knots), ceiling of up to 10,000 feet.

I went solo in 12 hours and was soon completing aerobatic routines daily, such as loops, slow rolls, wing overs, barrel rolls, roll of the top of a loop, stalling, spinning.  It was such a joy. In fact my instructor, F/L Nigel (Wheatie)O’Neill, commented on my commentary when doing the first loop, which was “over we go Trev”, a common comment by Fred Dagg (John Clarke, Comedian) in his TV shows.

We completed 150 hours on Harvards (Piston Engine) before graduating and going to the Jet Phase on the BAC 167 Strikemaster, a British Jet Trainer.

Now we could fly at speeds of 420 Knots with a maximum ceiling reached of 42,000 feet. Of course we were on full oxygen and could descend very quickly.

I graduated and achieved my dream, with many stories to tell, then began flying the Hawker Siddely Andover and medium range twin engine transport aircraft, in which we completed many flights, as passenger transport and freight runs, all over the Pacific and to Australia.

I gave it all up to ensure that my recent marriage to my partner Karin was secure. Karin's father was a Pathfinder on Mosquitoes during WW2 and was a highly decorated pilot (DFC, DFM).

That’s enough for now …..


James Davey
​May 2023

​"In, over, through and off'...  It's almost seventy years ago and my loved grandmother is sitting at my side, patiently encouraging me to repeat this as I follow her instructions. I'm learning to knit!  "In, over, through and off". 

Each time I stay with my grandparents I'm encouraged to pick up my knitting.  I progress from mastering 'plain' to learning 'pearl', to casting on and off.  Then on to casting on an even number and knitting 'one plain, one pearl' to form 'rib'; followed by casting on an odd number of stitches and knitting one plain one pearl. The result, my favourite, moss stitch!  

My grandmother teaches me to follow patterns, to increase, decrease and more. I make my first rib stitched beanie, with a pom pom. I loved making pom-poms!  A circular piece of paper with a hole in the middle forming a tool around which wool was wound, the process completed, a wonderful pom pom!  Scarves, then over time jumpers and cardigans follow, with Nanna's servicemen's knitting books providing patterns using four needles to make gloves or socks. What confidence was gained in persevering to achieve the milestone of turning the heel of a sock!

We would sit by the little fire in my grandparents' sitting room after dinner, listening to the 3DB News, my grandmother knitting woollen jumpers with cowel necks for my grandfather and uncle, or knitwear in various shapes and sizes for her grandchildren which were destined to became hand me downs as we grew out of them.  Ever resourceful, my grandmother often used left over wools to make striped jumpers of which we always seemed to have at least one.

​These were times of post war shortages, times when clothes were still made of wool and cotton, when tariffs protected the Australian clothing and textile industries.  It would be some decades before the mass production of acrylic fibres and the mass production of cheap knitted clothing.

​By learning to knit I learnt that if I persevered, eventually there would be a result which would almost always be useful, pleasing, perhaps even something to be proud of.  I learned about 'patterns'; to problem solve when I dropped a stitch; to ponder about  how reversing a process slightly could lead to a different result, to try different ways to solve problems.  I learned about textiles, about different 'ply's', about the impact of changing needle sizes; and more.  Knitting helped me to learn about atoms - I could imagine atoms making up wool, which could then be used in different ways to construct a physical entity.  But the biggest lesson learnt was the preparedness to take up a project, select patterns, wools, colours, then persevere to complete a product I'd be pleased with.

Over time I also learnt to crochet - equally fascinating to do, but different.  I'd  grown up familiar with Afghan squares on bedspreads made by my grandmother joined together then affixed to a sturdy floral poplln material.  In 1977, having returned from overseas and bought a little house in Daylesford, I had very little money to spare.  However, wool could be put away at the local drapery store to buy on an as needs basis, so I began to make an afghan square rug based on the colours of polyanthus flowers with black borders and edging.  Over time it grew to become a large double bedspread, quite a joy to behold!

Now almost fifty years old, it epitomizes to me the results of  perseverance.  I think of it when I doggedly persevere to add the Newsletter reports to the group pages on the web site each month.  I go into 'Afghan Square' making mode when doing this and always enjoying seeing the reports of group activities and the stories written by As Time Goes By and Family Research group members build up over time. 

Sometimes I ask myself ...'would anyone else be prepared to persevere to do this if I couldn't do it?'  

I have my doubts, but then again, perhaps someone might persevere to do it, if they'd learnt to knit and crochet! 


Bev Lee
​May 2023

I'm sure my childhood had a lot to do with how my life was shaped.  My life was a simple existence, growing up on the family farm at Lima with strict parents who expected our chores to be done.  This taught me and my siblings a work ethic which has stayed with us and which we have passed on to our children. 

My parents also taught us truth, compassion, love and fairness. And, never to take things for granted.  We lost our father at a time when we probably needed him the most in our lives for special events. He was to walk me down the aisle on my wedding day, in three weeks time from this tragedy, so was a sad occasion that was meant to be one of the best days of my life.

I suppose we were lucky to have two older brothers to drive our mother and two younger siblings around to continue our lives.  My father's death was sudden, but we had to carry on, sad as it was.  Life on the farm couldn't stop, not even for this terrible accident.  There was no time off to mourn our loss.  We missed him every day and, sadly, we didn't get to say goodbye.

Growing up fifteen miles from Benalla, we just couldn't step out to down or up a street, or frequent the shops.  There was also no pocket money.  We worked for our keep, as our dad often said, and we sure did!  This taught us to realise money doesn't grow on trees, as some may think.  I also grew up in a different time, long past, but not forgotten.  A time when you were taught, taught to cook, taught to clean, to appreciate what we had and to respect other people's property.  In my mother's words 'If it's not yours, you can't covet it'.

Families that grow up in rural districts have a lot in common. We all walked to school, were never driven as children today are.  We rode bicycles if our parents could afford one; our farm was never able to give each sibling a bike, so we shared one that was given to us.

Friendships were made and kept. I am still close to all my state chool classmates.  We catch up back at the old Lima school that was handed back to the community when the school closed.  Each year there's a reunion and a dedication to the fallen soldiers from the district held at the old school.

I now live in Benalla where I raised my family and worked.  All those childhood learnings came with me.  I'm now retired, but seem busier than every with my sport croquet, my house work and my vegetable garden ... .  I now have four great grand children who love to entertain me!  They too are being taught manners, respect and self discipline.

I do believe I'm a product of my upbringing and find myself torn between the past and the present.  The past with its stricter side and the present with a more relaxed side. 

​I still believe I grew up in the best times.  

I sometimes wish I could take my children back to my uncomplicated life at Lima.


Trish Rogash
12 May 2023

We saved the fat from the roasts and this was put in a container with some water, brought to the boil and then cooled. The clarified dripping had risen to the top and was taken off and stored until there was enough to make soap.

Then there was the jam making – apricot and plum mainly, then marmalade in the winter. Fruit and tomatoes were preserved in Fowler’s jars. Mother also made plum sauce.

Saturday’s main meal was a roast, Sunday’s lunch was cold meat and salad, Monday the rest of the roast minced up to make Shepherd’s Pie. Sunday night was always soup.
Baking was up to we three girls and we could make what we liked as we were the main one’s who ate it.

When I got married, I assumed my mother’s methods were what everyone did. I was working five days a week so Saturday had to stretch to the week’s washing, the weekly shopping as well as the Saturday roast. We tried this once. Then we discovered you could buy four slices of salad meat for ten pence at the local deli. That was the end of the roast dinner. Life got even easier when Don made a regular bike ride to Sydney Road and managed to bring home the week’s shopping in between his university lectures.

However many childhood ways of running a household remained. I drew the line at salting beans and I certainly wasn’t going to use Keepeg. But to this day I still make jam and marmalade, preserve a few jars of fruit or tomatoes (that was a forty jar a year job when all the family was home), make tomato sauce and have home-made biscuits in the cupboard.
Soup is also home-made, but I haven’t really had a go at Beef Tea, which I remember as delicious. Mother’s recipe says ‘Cook in a double saucepan. It should never boil but heat slowly for 2 – 3 hours’. Oh for the days of the wood stove!

​Carmyl Winkler
​May 2023