This is my auto-biography, the story of my life and the book on which the planned film will be based. While the book was published before Christmas and is available on Amazon, for various reasons I have also decided to post the book in its entirety here, for everyone to enjoy (if they want to) free of charge.
The blurb on the back cover reads: ‘Growing up in the outback in Australia was not the easiest life a girl could have but it wasn’t boring either. Lannah faced the challenges and enjoyed the adventures, determined to make the best of it all. Boarding school had its ups and downs with some of the bullying that is forced on many children. Lannah survived it and grew stronger in spite of it.
‘Employment, marriage and children followed.
‘Her story is uplifting, inspiring and very much an Australian look at life, love and adventure and ends with personal satisfaction, professional success and two wonderful daughters, but…then again, maybe this is just the beginning’.
From Lannah: ‘I don’t really know who to acknowledge, or, indeed, if anyone should be acknowledged. It’s not exactly a pleasant book but I hope readers might realize that if they have been bullied, or still are, or just attended boarding school and have unpleasant memories – they are not alone’.
Lannah also hastens to add that the school in question was in no way at fault nor responsible for any of her experiences.
INTRODUCTION
This is a book which has been a long time coming. I have thought about writing it so often and have tried to start several times, but just could not get into it. However, since having ‘Red Dust Dreams – Living in the Outback’ published and released – and then having a lot of people asking me about my own education, I decided, finally, that the time is right.
Basically, ‘No Looking Back’ is about just that but the complete opposite – it is about looking back. Looking back at my secondary school days – all six years of them. And my memories of those years – which are awful. In the years since leaving school in 1972 I have often had nightmares (and, no, I certainly cannot call them dreams – not even bad dreams) about trying to leave the place. Trying to leave that school – for good. Even if, for some reason in the dream, I have only gone back for a very short time – a week, a month, whatever – I still have problems with leaving. I know I do eventually get through that time thinking that it is only temporary and I am about to leave again, this time for good.
Most people that I know have wonderful memories of their school days and are thrilled when a reunion is announced. Not me. I have attended one reunion in that city – about 20 years ago and decided – never ever again. Not saying I didn’t enjoy it – I did, to a limit. I didn’t really want to accept and attend – but did, out of curiosity. Most of the girls that I saw at the reunion were pleasant enough – all except a few were day girls (or day bugs as we used to call them – I hate to think what they called us) and they did talk to me and were nice. I even talked with a couple of the boarders who were also OK. We weren’t friends at school – but the years have passed and most of us have grown up and matured. But there was one particular boarder with whom I will never be friends – she disliked me from the outset and that has never changed. It’s no loss to me – but I was interested to see how she would react to me at the reunion. I saw her across the room and thinking that the other couple of boarders I had already spoken with were pleasant – I thought I would try to approach her and see what happened. She saw me coming and turned on the spot, even though I smiled at her and it was a real smile – well, let’s just say it’s no loss. We will never be friends.
And yes, I was bullied. Mainly verbally but, believe me, that can hurt too. Sometimes more than physical bullying.’
ABOUT THAT SCHOOL
Yes, I did have an awful time during my six years as a boarder at that school, but I do not blame the school, nor the staff, for a minute. It was a very good school – certainly one of the oldest and best in that city, but then most of the boarding schools there were (and some still are) full of history, including mine. Something of which they should be extremely proud.
Being bullied and disliked as much as I was from go to wo, wasn’t pleasant and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Particularly as a boarder. There is no escape. Most of mine was verbal but there were a couple of physical incidents that have been described a little more in their relevant chapters.
And yes, I did complain. Once. This all occurred back in the 1960s-70s, before bullying and the like were really acknowledged. But I did eventually complain to a couple of the then staff members, both responding with the suggestion that I should try harder to get along with the other girls. Ok. That wasn’t going to work and I knew it, so that didn’t help. I did also try to tell my parents – just once – and was ignored.
These days, bullying is acknowledged and taken very seriously and – usually, but not always – acted upon.
Our meals at school were lovely. We must have had kitchen staff to do the cooking but I also remember being on roster to do the dishes. And I think it was a ‘help-yourself’ at the little servery ledge between the kitchen and dining room. We used to have a good old faithful roast (lamb, pork or chicken) on Friday nights and it was a real treat, even if it happened every week. I would not have missed that for anything – even one particular Friday when my mouth was full of ulcers, I had a sore that, pimples on my tongue and cold sores all over my lips – but there was no way I was not going to eat that roast. So I put up with the pain – and it was agony. I have always liked salt and as far as I was concerned, what’s a roast without salt and gravy – especially home made gravy. Although I think the gravy we had with our roasts at school was from a packet given the number of girls they had to feed. Needless to say, that salt only aggravated the pain – but I still ate. Our sweets (puddings/desserts) were yummy too. Either that or we were all just too plain hungry not to eat. I have no idea whether we had any vegetarians or vegans amongst us, but they were not catered for if there were.
MY CHILDHOOD IN THE OUTBACK
I have very happy memories of my childhood, growing up on our family sheep station. It was different – not that I realized it then. I think I figured that all children lived in the country and had similar childhoods – didn’t they? No. They didn’t. Even on the occasional trip to the city and seeing other children (mainly one or two cousins), it still never occurred to me that their childhood was different to mine. Or should I say, perhaps mine was the different one. As I found out a few years later when everything started to change – and I was sent down to boarding school.
I have no idea how old a person usually is when their memory starts to kick in, but the earliest of mine is one of staying with some of our neighbours on their station. It was my firth birthday – actually, I am not sure whether that’s true but for some reason every time I have thought about this, the age of five keeps popping up so I am sticking with it. Mum and Dad had gone to Melbourne for the Commonwealth Games and my brother (the next one up) and I stayed with our ‘aunt and uncle’ (not blood relations) on their station, as mentioned above. I do have a photo (good old black and white) of my brother and me sitting on the lawn, surrounded by my presents. I was in my ‘mu-mu’ – I think there is a proper name for it but I’ve never known it so I stick to ‘mu-mu’.
Being raised in the outback, we did not necessarily do the same things as city children did. Most of our play time was outside, in the fresh air, running around and getting plenty of exercise which, I think, was probably pretty normal for most children, city and country. But we couldn’t visit our friends to play, unless we planned to stay with them overnight or something. They were too far away. I consider myself very fortunate in that respect as I did have my youngest brother and our cousin. She also had some friends from the city who used to come up and stay sometimes. I really was not a part of that, but when we were by ourselves, we did have some fun times.
Television was introduced in the 1950s-1960s and we had our brand new set in our lounge room. Initially we had the ABC and some years later a local network, Channel 4, began. All black and white. The day’s viewing started with the good old test pattern before going into the scheduled programmes. We got the news of course and the weather and some other programmes in those very early days.
Our telephone was on a party line too. The switchboard was only open at certain hours so you had to make or take any calls in the specified hours and being a party line there was always the chance that everyone connected (ie stations for kilometres around) could and would be listening in. Reckon it was the best grapevine in the world!
The CWA (Country Women’s Association) was very strong in those days – in fact, it has always been a feature for the women in the country, both rural and remote. I understand my paternal grandmother was one of the first presidents of our local branch, followed by Mum. I have learned more recently that the above mentioned cousin’s mother was also involved with the CWA but I think it must have been a different branch. Mum was president for what seemed like forever to me. They even had a special hall built – which remains to this day although now completely unused as far as I know. I even tried to start the CGA (Country Girls’ Association) – one other girl turned up but that was only because she had to come along with her mum to the CWA meeting. My CGA lasted one whole day. I never became friends with any of the other girls of my age in the district.
Education was provided by the School of the Air (SotA) based in Port Augusta. Their end of year get together was a lot of fun and something to really look forward to. It was the time we got to meet, face to face, the other station children connected to the SotA. In those days that was the only time we saw them and had the chance to play with them. These get togethers included a nativity play and I was cast as Mary one year. That was wonderful – my parents were very proud of me, not that I realized it at the time. I was too nervous. I was given the wrong words for the singing so I found myself miming the whole way through. And being heartily congratulated afterwards – maybe I missed my calling in life?
While my memories of SotA are not numerous, there are a couple that spring to mind. The above was one. Another one was one of my birthdays. In this particular year it fell on a weekend. At the end of the daily SotA lesson, students were allowed to share any news that they had and anything they felt was important. Well, my birthday was very important and usually such occasions were mentioned by the teacher. But this did not happen on the Friday, so I figured I needed to do something about it. So I did. The teacher responded that she had planned to mention it on Monday. Ok, I accepted that and thanked her. A few minutes later, however, I heard footsteps, fast approaching down the verandah. They were heavy, fast and were definitely on a mission. Mum! Oops! Mum listened in to the radio lessons through the set in the lounge room and would have heard me. Those footsteps meant I was in trouble. And I was. I cannot recall what exactly happened and I don’t think I want to. All I do know is that it kind of dampened my birthday somewhat and I dreaded the SotA lesson on Monday, as I knew the teacher would mention it.
To Be Continued Next Blog
