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No Looking Back – School’s Out and Life Begins (Pt XIIIV)

Chapter 9 – Leaving Adelaide, Settling in Perth – and Marriage (Continued)

Then my husband was transferred across the nation to Sydney. So off we went. Eldest daughter by this stage was starting at primary school and I managed to get my youngest into playgroup. I also made a few friends through both school and playgroup and I formed a craft group in Sydney. This was the time I tried to start up my own business as well, making children’s clothes and decorating and painting them with Hobbytex. Another thing I had a go at was putting together gift baskets and trying to sell them at local markets. All of these fizzled out, but at least I gave them each a chance. Sydney did have an established branch of the old scholars’ association, so I went along to a couple of their functions, but that too, fizzled out – for me, anyway.

With the girls starting in playgroup, kindergarten (or pre-school) and primary school, that I started getting involved in school committees – in the Parents’ and Citizens’ Associations etc.

This was the time I suffered from another health problem. I had done some gardening during the week and developed pains in my right side, just above the hip, by the end of the week. Thinking I had pulled a muscle while gardening, I tried to ignore it and continued as normal for as long as I could, hoping it would eventually go away. Had a reasonably busy weekend and managed to get through it all but by Monday, the pain had deteriorated and I went to the doctor. I was diagnosed with shingles. Apparently, I was also in ‘fashion’ in that two of his other patients had also been diagnosed that morning. Difference was that their pain had only begun over the weekend whereas I had had mine for some days. Their rashes had not yet shown so they were able to take some medication and get rid of their shingles, whereas I’d left mine for too long, the rash was very evident and I couldn’t do anything about it. I kept going for as long as I could (my husband was away) but with two very young daughters and the pain getting worse. I ended up being bedridden and was even hallucinating, the pain was so bad. I cannot remember how long I was in bed for but thankfully my mother-in-law was able to come over to help. I could not have coped alone. Both girls also got chicken pox either before or after I became ill. It was an awful time.

Once I had completely recovered from the illness I resumed my involvement in various committees etc. I did enjoy that and this took me throughout their schooling, right back to WA., when we finally moved back, with our eldest about to start secondary school. I seemed to fit in quite well with almost all their schools and I did make some very good friends. The only two schools that did not seem to ‘click’ with me were the one in Canberra (my husband was transferred there for 11 months at one stage while we lived in the eastern states) but that could have been due to more health issues that I suffered (and which have been described later). I did try to become involved there but it just did not work, so I gave up. The second school was the girls’ secondary school in Perth. No clicking again despite my efforts.

When in Canberra, as mentioned above, I suffered another health issue – a complete nervous breakdown. I cannot really describe how I felt. But I do know it was awful and I felt like I was living a nightmare. It occurred not long after my husband was transferred to Canberra. I cannot remember how or when I began to feel so awful but I do know it built up over some days or weeks. I went to the doctor and was told that I had already suffered the breakdown and it seemed that I had experienced the top three reasons for this: the first being the death of a loved one (my father passed away suddenly not long after we moved), moving house and divorce. While the latter was not technically true, my husband was traveling a lot for work and I was alone more often than not. Again, while trying to cope with two young daughters was not easy. And sadly it is very common. The one thing the specialists kept asking me (as they do with any sufferer in this position) was whether I had considered ‘hurting’ myself. My very adamant answer was no. All I wanted to do was get better. And once on medication and with sheer willpower, that is exactly what happened. I got better. However, going back to my school days, I do know that I would have considered ‘hurting’ myself had I not been so innocent and ignorant and known what suicide even meant. I look back now and just thank goodness for that innocence and ignorance.

With both girls at school full time I began looking for another job. I also did a couple of courses to try to add to my qualifications. This worked to an extent. I successfully landed a couple of positions but they did not last as I discovered that a couple of the firms that employed me had not necessarily been transparent about all the duties that would be performed, including hours of work and when I was told what these would be, I decided none of these positions would suit, so moved on.

However, I did successfully start work at the Australian Taxation Office (ATO) as a keyer for the income tax returns at the end of the financial year. I worked there on a contract basis for a few years and did make three wonderful friends, with whom I remain friends to this day. We have added another lovely lady to our group and have regular lunches. I did enjoy my work there – my hours were great. I started at 8.30 am and finished, with the afternoon shift taking over, at 12.30.

My final place of employment, after leaving the ATO, was as receptionist with a small, family run business. I was there for about seven years, when they ran into financial problems and many of the staff members had their hours reduced heavily. I was one of them. This lasted for about a year before I left altogether.

By this stage both of my daughters were adults, the eldest one being a qualified architect and living up in Broome for some years, with her fellow-architect boyfriend when possible as he was still living and working in Perth and would fly up to Broome as often as he could. They finally married and a couple of years ago presented us with our first gorgeous grandson. They now live in Perth. My youngest daughter really landed on her feet with her first full time position – she became an editor for a privately owned educational publisher in Perth. She also has a long term boyfriend and now lives with his mother and him. Both my husband and I feel exceptionally happy and lucky with the choices both our daughters have made with their partners. We get along very well with both our son-in-law and his family as well as the boyfriend of our youngest daughter and his widowed mother.

No Looking Back – School’s Out and Life Begins (Pt X)

Chapter 7 – 1972 – Secondary School’s Finished – or So I Thought

School had finished! YES! And I had gone home. I have no idea what the rest of the girls at that school, day bugs or boarders, did after they finished school and to be honest, I had not given the future much thought either. I really had no idea what I wanted to do.

However, it seemed that my mother wanted me to follow the family tradition. All three of my brothers spent their first year after leaving school on the pay roll at home on the station. I think the aim of this was to give them some chance, now school was out of the way, to think about what they wanted to do. I think my father wanted them all to go on the land, but the boys didn’t necessarily want this. And no-one was going to force them.

My eldest two brothers did both go to different agricultural colleges, both in Victoria I think. But my youngest brother was looking into a different direction altogether. And now, many years down the track, through circumstances and many things, my eldest brothers has lived and worked on several rural properties, not including ours. He now lives in the Philippines. My middle brother has worked on our station as well as several others but is now living in Victoria and works on farms when he can. And my youngest brother? The one who had a different career altogether in his sights? He has worked in various areas too, including mining but at the moment, I believe he spends his time between the city (where his wife and he have a home) and our station, which now actually belongs to his wife. It is my understanding that they plan to retire up there – doing the exact opposite of most country people!

The point of this is that it did seem to be a tradition in my family for the children to go up and work on the station for a year after leaving secondary school. Apparently I was no exception and I must admit, I was thrilled to do this.

Although, there was a moment when I thought I might even be returning to that school to have yet another ‘go’ at 4th Year (leaving). The school contacted Mum at some stage during the school holidays as apparently they did think I would be returning. And they very excitedly told Mum about all the things I would be doing: I would still be boarding in the senior boarding house, but I would have my own room! I would also be head prefect as well as head of my own house/faction and several other things were to be bestowed upon me. This all excited Mum but I have to admit that I really was not sure how I felt about it all. For a few minutes, I did actually envisage myself in all these things – but then the other memories came flooding back. I think Mum felt it would all do me the world of good and she was probably right, but I really wasn’t sure about returning for yet another year. And the more I thought about it, the less I wanted to do it. Even if I did do and have all these things and most of the girls who bullied me would have gone, it didn’t appeal enough. Not really. While Mum was excited for me, she also knew how I felt and she would never have pushed me. So the answer was no. I didn’t go.

Hut on the hill. One of the original buildings on the station.

No Looking Back – School’s Out and Life Begins (Pt IX)

Chapter Six – 1971 – 4th Year (Leaving – Second Attempt)

We were now nearing the end of my school days, thank goodness. And nothing had improved – I was still as unpopular as ever, although I was getting a bit more of an idea why this was so but still couldn’t do a jolly thing about it.

And that sense of foreboding was still there.

At some stage during 1970, the school had acquired another property. It was a house, just a bit further up the road from the main school. Certainly within walking distance still, but there were a few privately owned homes between the school and the new property. This house had been purchased for the senior boarders. I was a senior boarder. I should have been going into 5th year (matriculation, or Year 12 these days) but as I followed my own history of failing miserably at my first attempt at leaving, I was kept down to give me a chance to have a second go at it. Still failed.

Since I had been kept down with the boarders of the year below me in 1971, when I left for the summer/Christmas holidays, I do have to admit that I was worried that I might be left with those girls – which would have been fine and suited me perfectly – except that I really wanted to go up to this new boarding house. I am still not quite sure why I wanted this so badly, given that I would be in with the girls of my own year again. And I didn’t really think I wanted that.

This feeling that I did want to be in the new boarding house really gnawed at me during the holidays. So much so, that I asked my mother to call the school in late January and find out where I’d be allocated. And I was really relieved to find I was indeed in this wonderful new boarding house. I can only think that perhaps the boarding house staff had considered this carefully and decided that the girls that I just did not get along with, had gone. There would be a dozen of us in the new house and at least three were new. Irrespective of this, I am still mystified by my own feelings about it at the time.

I was allocated a bed in the largest room with four other girls. Two of them had been there throughout, the other two were new. In fact one of the older ones was that other country girl who was with me in Grade 7, but we were anything but friends. To be fair, none of these girls did or said anything nasty to me and I was comfortable in that dormitory. In fact, my final year at that school was almost pleasant.

I even befriended one of the new girls for a while. But it didn’t take her long to start disliking me so that was really the end of that friendship. One of the other new girls was really lovely, but for some reason that I will never understand, was as unpopular as I was, but it never seemed to bother her. We became quite friendly but never really close.

It was during this final year that I had a bit of time in hospital. It actually began during some school holidays. I know I was home when I suddenly developed really severe tummy pains. Mum took me into the doctor (45 minutes away) and he checked me over. But he wasn’t at all concerned about the tummy pains – probably because they had all but disappeared by then anyway. He was far more concerned at my lack of physical development. It was something I had never given any thought to even as all the girls around me were developing and I wasn’t, but it had never worried me. And his concern in turn started to worry Mum. We went home, tummy ache completely gone and I carried on as usual, not a worry in my mind, except the end of the school holidays meaning I would be returning to school, but it was my very last year and it was progressing. So – no worries – just happy.

Back to school I went. And wasn’t really much happier except that I knew that the end was in sight. The end of my six years at that school, the day I would walk out forever. It was gradually coming nearer.

One evening at dinner one of the other girls came to tell me that the senior house mistress wanted to see me. Scared out of my wits I wanted to get this out of the way as quickly as possible. Over I went and was told that I was going into hospital the next morning.

Hospital? Why? 

There was nothing wrong with me, or not that I was aware of anyway. But it seemed that the fact that I wasn’t developing was really bothering my mother. It had been organized that I was to be admitted to hospital for tests. Ok. So I was going to hospital. And I think my Godmother must have picked me up and taken me the next morning.

I cannot remember much about the next few days in hospital except being knocked out while I underwent a series of tests. I do recall waking up from that and being very sick. It was almost like that original tummy ache was coming back to haunt me. The results of the tests were all perfectly fine. There was nothing wrong with me – apparently. Sheesh – I could have told them that all along. But that wasn’t the end of it. It seemed that Mum was really worried about me. I still don’t know why – I wasn’t worried at all.

So, I was then put onto some form of tablets. Presumably hormones of some sort – and these worked. Suddenly my body woke up to itself and started sprouting everywhere. I didn’t like that. I had never worried about my lack of – whatever – but it seemed I was the only one. Thankfully, when everything started working I was taken off the tablets and it all stopped again. That suited me. It seemed to prove that my body was fine.

Or so I thought.

Apparently, I thought wrong. During the next school holidays, it was arranged that I was to have a series of injections – in my backside. Ouch! No-one asked me if I wanted this. Actually, I was not consulted about any of this at all and had I known what was going to happen, I might have just tried to put up with that little tummy ache which triggered this whole thing.

So these injections were arranged. Two a week. This was to happen during the school holidays and the owner of one of our neighbouring stations happened to be a nurse or sister at the local hospital so Mum took me over there for these injections. This lady was very good to do this as she didn’t have to. She could have told us to go into the GP or the hospital, but instead she administered them, saving us a considerable amount of driving. They took all of two seconds to administer. It took longer for me to prepare than it did to actually have them. Once the injections stopped, so did my body. I mean, it kept going – just stopped developing.

Back to school and I reckon we were getting pretty close to the end of the year. We only had two lots of holidays in those days, finishing with the long summer/Christmas holidays.

While a lot of the girls, both boarders and day bugs, were sad about leaving school, I wasn’t. I think it was the only term in the entire time I had been at that school that I was actually happy. I really was counting the days down until the very last one. And that last assembly – well, let’s just say I’d given up on expecting to receive any sort of award. It just wasn’t going to happen.

I attended an end-of-school party at the home of one of the day bugs. A girl with whom I became friends in about 2nd or 3rd year. We are still friends on a ‘vague’ level. It was a friendship that began as some do, in an odd way. I was actually friends with two other girls but after a while, it seemed I was the ‘third wheel’ and not really wanted – to their credit, father than just ignore me, they ‘offered’ me to another couple of girls. It was actually the best and nicest thing they could have done. I became very close friends with these latter two and, as mentioned, still have annual contact with one of them. The other? Well, I am not sure what happened there but we seemed to lose contact some years ago and while I did try to maintain this, it was clearly all one-sided, so I gave up.

Life can be funny. As it turns out, many years later one of the girls from the first couple mentioned above is now great friends with one from the second couple. They seem to be part of a group of four very close friends, these two and one other girl with whom I was acquainted at school, but never really friends with and yet another, who didn’t go to our school at all.

And my body did develop – all by itself, some years after I left school. I’d never been a tall person and certainly won’t be now, if anything, I think I am growing out rather than up or down.

No Looking Back – School’s Out and Life Begins (Pt VIII)

Chapter V – 1970 – 4th Year (Leaving – First Attempt)

Wow. My lack of popularity must have been very obvious by this stage. When I returned to school after the holidays, for the new school year, I found that I had been separated from the girls in my year and put in with those of the year below. This did not upset me at all – it was a relief and I felt that I might actually have a chance of enjoying the year. I was back in the second wing of the new boarding house.

I was in the second dormitory along the corridor with three new girls, one from the country known as the south east as it was south east of Adelaide. One of the other girls came from Alice Springs and she was a very quiet girl. No-one knew a lot about her. The third one came from the city but for some reason she had to board for the year. All three of these girls only started at the school that year.

This was the year that I actually met one of the couple of boarders that I did befriend and has stayed my friend throughout life, although we have very little contact with each other. She lived on a farm not far from our station. She also did come up to stay on the station at one stage but after we all left school. She is also one of the Godmothers to one of my daughters.

Of the three girls in my dorm that year one invited me to her parents’ farm for a long weekend. That was exciting, at least, I thought it was until she also told me that she had entered us into the local tennis tournament which was also on that weekend. Me? Play tennis? Seriously? I don’t think so. However, I have always felt very proud of myself in that I didn’t ask to be pulled out. I wanted to, but didn’t. So on Friday afternoon, off we trotted. The tournament was scheduled for Saturday afternoon so we decided to practise in the morning. There were actually three of us. The girl who had invited us and another girl from school. This latter girl was in it for fun, as was I, but I also had a touch of true seriousness about it. For some very weird reason I wanted to prove myself. Tennis was a sport and I wanted to show that I could play. Even if I couldn’t. I think I did quite well, too, sort of. I got the ball over the net at least twice – now, that’s great for me. The first ball cleared the net comfortably and my opponent returned it, just as comfortably. We even had a bit of a rally. The second ball that I got over was a tad high – and I did hit it hard. It cleared not only the net, but also the wire fence surrounding the court, along with a couple of houses and then disappeared from sight. We never did find it. And we lost the tournament. Never mind – it was fun. Our opponents were very serious and I think were a bit frustrated because we weren’t quite up to their standard.

Somewhere earlier in this book, I mentioned that there were two times when I became ill and one of those times could have been life threatening. I have described that one, when I was very nearly given penicillin.

The second time occurred during this year – 4th Year. It occurred over several days – about a week all told. It was an earache. A rotten earache that gradually deteriorated as the week progressed. Trouble was, it really only manifested itself at night. During the day, I was fine – no pain, nothing. These were also the days when we did our prep in the new library, which was right at the top of the school. This meant, as mentioned earlier, that we had to walk up in a group escorted by a house mistress.

The earache began very mildly. Hardly noticeable. I think I was even able to continue with my homework as though nothing was wrong. That was the first night. The second night – Tuesday – it was worse. It was certainly making itself known and I was starting to have trouble coping with it, while still trying to concentrate on my homework. In fact, that night it did reduce me to tears and I was sent back to the boarding house, with another girl (who must have been a sort of friend – the mistress was very careful who she chose to accompany me, since I could not go alone) and we were both allowed to do our homework in one of the common rooms in the boarding house, with the two junior boarders.

As usual, the ache disappeared completely the next day, which was Wednesday. And that night it returned and was getting increasingly painful. Once again, I tried to do my prep but by this stage, the pain was too much and I couldn’t concentrate at all. And again I was sent back to the boarding house, but this time I was sent alone. This went against all the rules of the boarding house but that particular mistress got away with it. Instead I got into trouble. I ran for dear life down through the school grounds, between all the buildings, as fast as I could, to reach safety in the boarding house. To be honest, I don’t know what I was more frightened of, the increasing pain of the earache, running down through the school by myself or what sort of reception I would get upon reaching the boarding house, although I think I was starting to become beyond worry as I was in too much pain. I was sent straight to the head of the boarding house, who was absolutely furious with me. Again I was told to sit and do my homework with the junior boarders.

Next day, the school doctor was called to see me. It must have been arranged for him to come after school as I was in enough trouble anyway, without having time off. I am really surprised that he was called to see me and not the other way around. Anyway, he did come and he did look in my ear. Surprise! Surprise! Absolutely nothing. My ear looked perfectly fine so apparently I was imagining it all.

But I wasn’t imagining it. Not one bit of it. I was becoming increasingly scared about what was going to happen, both to my ear (I knew it couldn’t last forever – something had to happen – but what…) and with the school regarding whatever punishment I was in for if my earache continued. And it did. That night – yet again, at prep. It started and was unbearable. And again I was sent down to the boarding house alone. No-one believed me at all. Although I guess that was fair enough, given that I didn’t have any pain during the day. I recall reaching the boarding house and it did seem that I was expected; again I was taken to the common room and told to finish my homework there. I was crying. I was in just so much pain. And I was scared – very scared. I must have been carrying on more than the other nights as I was warned not to even think about going to bed.

But the pain was just too much – and I was completely beyond caring. Although going to bed did not seem to help much – it was still extremely painful for most of the nights and by the end of the week, I was exhausted.

So off I trotted, in too much pain to be able to concentrated. I couldn’t function. Both of the junior boarders were concerned when I left, not because of the pain and my crying but because of whatever punishment I would have waiting for me. I didn’t care. I just went to bed.

And then it happened.

Suddenly – a mighty explosion – that’s the only way I can describe it. Inside my head. It didn’t worry me. Normally it would have scared the living daylights out of me – but not that night.

The pain had stopped.

I just lay there, waiting for it to start again. But it didn’t. I cannot remember ever being so comforable. It really was pure bliss.

I could not take the smile from my face. The other girls returned to the boarding house and I walked into the bathroom, beaming from ear to ear.

What happened next did not scare me but has always, to this day, made me wonder. While I was hopping around, dancing and just so happy, I began to realize that the girls weren’t really sharing my happiness. They were trying to, but just couldn’t. Instead they were just staring at me. Finally one of them told me to look at the left side of my head, in the mirror. I did. And again, I never fully understood what happened, mainly because it has never been explained to me, nor have I ever received any apologies.

The left side of my hair was absolutely caked in blood.

The house mistress was called in and cleaned the blood off. I still find it hard to believe that nothing was ever really said about it all. Either I was sent to the GP or he came back to see me, but still nothing was really explained. The only thing I was told was that my ear drum had burst. But why? Why had it burst? I must have had an infection of some sort but why hadn’t it been picked up? And why did it only manifest itself at night and not during the day at all? So many questions. So few answers.

And not an apology to be heard.

The other thing that I have often wondered about – if my ear drum had really burst, could that not have been fatal? I would have thought so. So I guess I was very lucky.

CHAPTER 1 – 1966 – GRADE 7

There really is no looking back.

Not really.

But I do.

Whether I like it or not, those memories keep coming back to annoy me. They represent six years of pure hell and depressions and, yes, they do torment me – consistently. I wish they wouldn’t but they do and there doesn’t seem to be much I can do about it. And if I had my time again, there would be absolutely nothing I could about my life back then.

The happiest memory I do have of my secondary years at boarding school is the very last day ever. Oh and the last day of each term and each year were pretty good too.

I left the school in 1972, after repeating what was then known as ‘Leaving’ (these days, it is Year 11) but still managed to fail everything despite have two goes at it. In fact, in all those years I didn’t manage to pass anything much except English. I was always good at English. Looking back, there was not a lot I excelled in at all, including the piano which I did try to learn at one stage, but was never able to sight-read, so that stopped pretty quickly. Then I was given a guitar in my mid-teens. I loved playing it and singing along. I did not have any guitar lessons and was never in the school choir or anything like that. Reckon I’d have been kicked out had I tried. I just enjoyed playing with and singing along to my guitar.

However, I did try for a couple of sports teams, the main one being hockey. Again – not good. I attended one practise and managed to get hit around a lot by the other players and decided pretty quickly that that wasn’t for me either. So I pulled out before landing in hospital. I did enjoy tennis and used to use the old hits board just above the then new boarding house. I did that a lot, but never had a game with anyone. The other sport I did try for was running – silly, silly me. This was when they were ‘trying out’ for the sports day teams – and for one insane minute, I signed up for one of the races. I was put out the first time we practised. I think I was still at the starting point – or not far in – when the first – well, all the other runners, finished.

But I am getting well ahead of myself. Let me turn the clock back to my very first day ever at that school. I was extremely excited – but I also had a strange feeling of foreboding. And that feeling was to stay with me on and off for the next six years. I was about to join my older brothers and cousins in attending boarding school. We went to different schools – all the boys went to one and our female cousins went to another one. I went to a different one again.

And I was alone.

It was February 1966 when I started at that school. As mentioned, I was very excited – and for the life of me, I don’t know why. I think it was because I was going down to ‘big school’, but why that fact excited me as it did, is beyond me. I was leaving home, after all. But at the time it probably did seem exciting. That excitement lasted for about two weeks, then homesickness, reality and a few other negative things crept in and began to overpower everything. And that sense of foreboding was slowly but surely increasing. It might also have had something to do with the fact that I was one of the first junior boarders at that school, so while I was in a class with other girls of my age, there were no other boarders of that age, they were all older. Only by a year but that was bad enough to egg those feelings of loneliness and isolation on. Most of those girls were very nice but the age difference, even by one tiny year, did seem to make a difference.

At this stage, I think I do need to step backwards in time to explain something. There was a reason – a very sad one – why I started as a junior boarder and was not able to wait for that one last year before heading to boarding school at the ‘accepted’ age.

The reason I was being sent to boarding school in the first place is because I grew up, along with my three older brothers and our cousins, on our family sheep station in the north eastern pastoral district of that state. This is covered earlier in this book. What wasn’t mentioned is that I did have governesses for part of my primary education but they had all gone by the time I reached Grade 6 – my last year out there. However, by the time my youngest brother was sent off to boarding school, a couple of years before I should have been, we must have been having problems hiring and keeping governesses as my mother finished up teaching me for that last year. I cannot remember a lot about that year except that as it progressed, my mother must have found teaching me, on top of the rest of her daily chores, just a bit too much. The obvious answers was to send me down to boarding school – just a year earlier than normal.

Through my research for ‘Red Dust Dreams’, I did learn that, while there are still some governesses out there, a lot of station students are now being taught by their mothers, or some other relative. It can be a very lonely and isolated existence, particularly to these young girls – many of them are (or used to be) attracted to the romance and ‘difference’ of outback life. But sadly for many of them, once they actually start their lives out there they realize how isolated and lonely it can be with the bright lights of the cities or large towns, a long, long way away. They find the stations are so isolated that unless they have their own transport or can get a lift they are too far away to visit the cities or nearest towns on the weekends. Instead, they usually find they are ‘stuck’ on the stations and after a while, reality really does get to many of them and they resign to head back to the city. While conducting the above research, I also discovered that there are now quite a few organizations that will support these young people and the world of the internet, FaceBook particularly, is a God send for them. Although even the internet can be a problem as it does not necessarily work throughout some of the more remote areas of Australia. These girls (and boys nowadays) also find, to their frustration, that their mobiles are completely out of range as well. The above mentioned organizations are generally online and I believe they do help to keep these young people in contact with others. While it isn’t physical, it is at least something for them.

Anyway, it was decided that Mum would finish teaching me at the end of Grade 6 and that I would go down to town too. Initially, rather than trying to get me into a boarding school that didn’t actually take junior boarders, it was arranged that I would stay with my aunt and uncle instead and attend the school as a day bug. And this was settled until tragedy struck. Sadly, my late cousin suddenly became seriously ill with a terminal disease during that year. Alternative arrangements had to be made – and quickly. My parents must have contacted the school and explained the situation – suddenly I was being accepted as a junior boarder. I must have been taken to the city to buy uniforms, hat, gloves, books and all other necessities. In those days we had to go to one of the department stores in the city to buy all this. These days, I think it can all be purchased at the schools.

For the six years of my boarding at that school, I think slept in all of the boarding houses – except one. And that one was attached to one of the then-new boarding houses, so I feel that I did sleep in all of them. I also think we were the last boarders to sleep in the very first boarding house – which is now being used as classrooms and probably has since we slept there. There were mainly first years (now Year 8) and a few older girls when we were there. Our access was via a very old and rickety set of wooden stairs which were attached to the outside of the kitchen and these led up to an old screen door which in turn led into the first dormitory. There were only screen doors and windows, none of which was insect proof. It was a very old building, housing the administrative offices on the ground floor as well as that of the Principal.

We did our homework in one of the classrooms before having evening supper in our own little kitchen. That was also where I remember seeing the youngest surviving member of the family that began the school. She was often in there, too. Not sure what she was doing, but as she was elderly then I am thinking she might have been having warm milk before bed or something like that. I think she must have passed on not long after that as I cannot remember her at all after that year.

Having always had that passion for writing, I lived for mail from home and indeed from anyone. We had a green mail board, with white ribbons which were pinned in a criss-cross fashion across the board. That was one of my favourite places in that school. Actually, it was my only favourite place.

Our teacher from Grade 6 was a very great friend of the mistress of our boarding house, so warned me: ‘You had better watch out’. Nothing like scaring the living daylights out of an already very unhappy girl. And this warning was only compounded a bit later, when, for some reason, I found myself standing at the head of the main inside staircase. We weren’t allowed to use those stairs beyond going into the dormitory which was directly over the principal’s office. So, by rights, I should not have been there. But there I was, looking down at the then principal, standing at the bottom of the stairs and issuing yet another warning to me – in that I needed to improve my marks. Well, OK, I knew that but sort of didn’t feel it was going to happen in a hurry and I didn’t like having that said to me. Let me tell you that I was one very scared, very unhappy and very small little girl.

A very lost little girl.

I did make a couple of friends among the day bugs in my class, which was lovely, but overall, I was not popular. And sadly, this lack of popularity only worsened as my days at that school progressed. I also befriended, to an extent – another country girl who was doing exactly what I was supposed to be doing. Attending the school but not as a boarder, she was living with relations or friends or someone.

CHAPTER TWO – NEXT BLOG.

Yes, it is very dry out there.

Times Have Changed (Cont’d)

Now, the rest of the grounds at the school. As mentioned, way back up there somewhere, I have been back a couple of times since 1972 when I left. One visit was to the administration block, to pay for the school magazine that they had sent to me. My mum came along with me and as that was my first visit to the admin block since leaving, I could not resist having a quick look. The office itself has been changed considerably – it is only very small and I would not have thought there would be room to change – but they have done it and it looks good. They even had a couch in there. I asked Mum if she would mind if I had a quick look – she didn’t join me but instead the staff gave her a cup of tea and she was left quite comfortably on the couch. The staff were also only too happy for me to have a look, so off I went.

Apart from a reception desk right outside the Principal’s office and the change in the admin office itself, it all looked pretty much unchanged downstairs since I had boarded there. I walked down to the old kitchen – strangely enough, my main memories of that kitchen included the elderly woman who used to be there in my very early days at the school. Looking around that room didn’t actually mean a lot to me. Some of the school staff were working in the hallway so I made myself known – introduced and explained myself to them. I really wanted to climb those stairs and go into the old dormitories but felt I possibly should not do this.

However, as I stood at the bottom of the stairs and looked up, I saw a very young, very small and extremely scared and unhappy little girl.

It was me.

It felt like a thousand years ago.

It was then that I decided that I was not harming anyone or anything by climbing those stairs and having a look, so up I went. The little girl had gone and I was free to look around. Again, apart from the fact that these were now classrooms with the dormitory that I had been in, now a bathroom – nothing had changed. The memories rushed back (well, some of them did – others I have obviously locked away so securely they refuse to budge now) and the main thing I wondered was: where are all those girls now? What has become of them? I will never know.

With that and satisfied that I had had a good look, I turned around and went back to the office where I collected my mother and went home, back to her room in the aged care residence.

I must have been back to school one other time as I was given a tour of the grounds, including new buildings and old – and the boarding house again, by one of the staff members. The grounds really have changed hugely. The one aspect that did strike me was the lack of parking. The school has never had a lot of parking space, which was probably a negative for the parents of the boarders, but was space it did have seems to have gone now.

There have been a lot of other changes over the years too. Some that I have been aware of, others that I haven’t. In our day, we only had three terms and that middle one was a nightmare, particularly for those of us who were not happy at boarding school, being away from home for so long. Our holidays were in May and September. We had Easter off too and would have been able to go home but it wasn’t actually part of the school holidays as it didn’t fall at the end of the term. I do not know when the school years was changed but the four terms were in effect by the time my two daughters started school. There are also pupil free days and all sorts of other things now – they certainly weren’t there back in my day. Another one is ‘Schoolies’ Week’ – when I understand that the Year 12s are allowed to go  away, usually to designated places in each state, for a week or two to ‘let their hair down’ after their final exams and before the school year finishes. Again, something that we didn’t have.

School Holidays – YES!

The last days of term were some of the best for me. For all boarders actually, but moreso for those less popular. While many of the boarders had formed good friendships amongst themselves and had been invited to others’ country homes for the holidays, or at least part of them, I generally went home. Which I loved. Once in secondary school I know I started to invite one or two of the day bugs to spent the holidays on our station. In the first couple of years at the school, as mentioned earlier, I did form a few friendships with the day bugs. There were two in particular at that early stage who used to come up to the station regularly.

My brothers, too, used to invite one of two of their friends up. So our homestead used to be very full suddenly, overnight. We would usually travel up by train in those days and after disembarking we would be met by our parents in either one or two cars, depending on our numbers. These school holidays are among the best memories I have. They were a huge amount of fun. And I can well remember both Mum and Dad commenting on the ‘horrible’ silence in the now empty house when they returned home, after dropping us off when the holidays were over.

I missed our pets hugely when I was at school. One little dog, which belonged to my brother but which seemed to stick to me and I to him, sadly died during my first years at school. 

One day at the end of term I was walking down through the school, carrying my sewing basket – when I suddenly dropped everything. I saw my parents’ car parked in the carpark that was. What a wonderful sight. The girls I had been walking with either felt sorry for me or felt they should pick up all that I had dropped and carried it down to me. Which was very good of them – they must have liked me a bit more than most! Meanwhile, I must have already packed and been ready to leave as Mum and Dad had all my bags in the car and all I had to do was go get in and go. I went to sit in the back and I noticed my youngest brother also sitting there, on the other side. As I sat and closed the door, he passed what looked like a picnic basket to me, covered in his own school jacket, which he then asked me to pass to him. I did – and then looked into the basket – and there was a puppy! I was ecstatic. It was a little Australian Terrier. I fell in love with it, there and then – and those feelings never diminished.

The first mornings at home in the holidays were wonderful, hearing this little dog belting up the hallway as fast as his tiny legs would take him and then jumping up on my bed. If I did happen to still be sleeping, he would lick me to try to wake me up and if no success, would curl up and settle on the end of my bed until I did wake up. I loved that so much. School holidays included riding motor bikes (only ever on the station, never off), horses and lots of walking. We also had our own ‘swimming pool’ – in the form of a concrete tank which was just across the creek from the homestead. Easy walking distance. So we had that in the summer too.

And just lots of fun and laughter.

Oh – and on the first Saturday in the holidays – we would all make ourselves scarce for some hours. As mentioned earlier, it was mail day and when our school reports were due to arrive. I am thinking that my brothers didn’t exactly receive glowing reports and I sure as heck know that I didn’t. My progress at school, or lack therein, in absolutely everything, almost went backwards and my teachers were not backward in reporting it. When those reports arrived I figured I needed to give my parents time to read mine and calm down before I showed up.

In the evenings, of course we were too far away from the nearest town to be able to meet friends for films, or do any of the things that our city counterparts were able to do. But I loved our own fun. I loved what we did. We were (and still are) incredibly fortunate in that we have a billiards/pool table on the station and that was used a lot in the evenings during school holidays. Another pastime was shooting – the boys would drive the ute and the girls would jump into the tray on the back and off we’d go. All sorts of places, some very rough, others not. But all on the station. We never left the station. The boys would do all the shooting and they mainly went for rabbits, foxes and the odd kangaroo. We do not have a problem with dingoes or wild dogs in our area, otherwise they would have been hunted down too. We didn’t eat any of it. The domestic animals got the lot.

Meals on the station were always a lot of fun. We were fortunate enough to have a full time cook and what a wonderful lady she was. She used to bake heaps of biscuits for ‘my boys and little Lannah’ before the holidays – they were not for Mum and Dad at all and pity help them if either of them tried to have one! Our meals were huge and always good, healthy food, but then we were also getting a huge lot of physical exercise. And we all ate together. Even morning and afternoon tea (or smoko as it is usually called, especially in the outback): a cup of tea for Mum and Dad and for morning tea, I used to get a chocolate milkshake. Fresh orange juice for afternoon tea. And freshly made cup cakes and assorted biscuits, with one of Mum’s recipes, very much an old family favourite, burnt butter biscuits. Yum. Full breakfasts, lunches and dinners too. The latter had two courses, main, which was huge and then sweets (as in puddings/desserts) for anyone who could fit it in. 

Our power was provided by a 32V generator at first and then we upgraded to a 240V generator. We even had a special ‘engine room’ that housed these generators – and which is still there, although these days we are connected to the ‘mains’. Dad taught me how to start all these engines. I don’t know whether the boys were taught, but for some reason, I was. While still on the 32V, I well remember a cousin (second cousin? Several times removed? I lose track after first cousins…) let his curiosity get the better of him when he found this big button on the wall just outside our back door. So he pressed it – thus sending the entire homestead and surrounds into complete darkness! It didn’t take much to figure out who the culprit was! Anyway, rather than starting the engine again, we all went to bed.

And good old ‘Donald Duck’ comics! Bought at our then local newsagent in our nearest town whenever anyone went in there, everyone devoured them. I don’t think anyone bothered with bringing a book when they came to stay with us, we all loved our Donald Duck comics. We weren’t so fond of Mickey Mouse and some of the others – they were all too serious. Donald Duck and his family were just good, healthy, down to earth fun. Some evenings the lounge floor between Mum’s and Dad’s armchairs and the TV was a sea full of bodies. All of us lying down there, reading comics.

A certain thought has carried me through life to date and probably always will. When the school holidays were coming to an end, particularly on the last day, I used to get a tad depressed at the thought of going back to the city and that school. But then I would think of the evening ahead and dinner and that would be enough to brighten me up. Once that was over, back down I’d go, but then think of going to sleep in my beautiful bed and just listening to the wind in the trees in our driveway – no traffic or city noises out there. When I woke the next morning, on the day we were due back at school, I would be a bit down again, but then think of breakfast and I was OK. Once that was over, I still had the long drive to the city ahead and again, that kept me going. However, once the city came into view on our journey, then I would sink and stayed down. Nothing more to look forward to. And as mentioned above this way of thinking has stuck with me all though the years and probably will for life.

So, yes, the school holidays were always something to really look forward to. I can remember most of the day bugs who I used to invite along. And these girls did change, as happens, as the years progressed. I think at one stage I invited three people but usually it was two. And a few times, only one would come up.

There were only three boarders I ever invited up and two have remained friends to this day. One of these was also unpopular but had a wonderful personality and came from a farm not far from where we lived. She is a lovely girl and I have no idea why she was so unpopular. No rhyme nor reason sometimes. She was also in the year below me so we were not allocated beds near each other, except for one year and that is mentioned in the relevant chapter. The second girl was was one of those who was only at the school for a couple of years and was reasonably popular but we did form a friendship during the time she was there. The last one, we certainly were not friends at the start but finally became friends – sort of – in the latter years at the school. She was actually one of the ones who told me how much she hated me in those first years. We were never really that close as mentioned but did become close enough for a while and I did invite her up one holiday and we had quite a good time. I was also invited to spend a few days at her family farm, which was fun.

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The next blog will see us move into Chapter 1, which is the first of the six chapters detailing my life as a boarder at the school. Some of the details are pleasant but more are not. They do details my bullying nightmare as well as some of the awful – and unusual – experiences I had with various illnesses during my school life.

BUT PLEASE REMEMBER THAT AT NO STAGE WAS THE SCHOOL IN QUESTION RESPONSIBLE NOR AT FAULT FOR ANY OF MY EXPERIENCES WHATSOEVER.

To Be Continued…