Memoir

Residents of “Southall” Corridor of Smith House 61-62

There is a photo of us back then: my Smith House room-mates and classmates from Armidale Teachers’ College in 1961-62. We went to a Photo studio in Armidale to have our group and individual photos taken. Dianne Short (married name, Gallaghar) was not able to be present, so her photo was superimposed into the photo (top left). We were studying to become primary and infants school teachers at the time. Some of us left for overseas, as soon as we had completed the obligatory three years and did not return to teaching small children. Our names were like our hairdoes, a signal of the times: Dianne, Sandy, Heather, Marnie, Julie, Daphne, Leonie, Jill and Anne. We lived in one wing of Smith House called Southall, which was actually a separate building joined to the rest for convenience sake.

I recently first learnt of a doctor who had lived in our building at the beginning of the century, and had shot himself accidentally under strange circumstances, when answering the telephone. In hindsight, this sent a shiver up my spine when I thought back to the seance that we conducted using an ouiji board in, quite possibly, that very room. I would be interested to know what the name, or letter, was that we conjured up together that night with our hands on the pointer. The final word that the pointer arrived at was ‘Elysian Fields’, which one of the girls, Daphne, later claimed to have spelled out.  Daphne, on the far right of the photo, was a bright, funny  girl I’d first met at primary school in Grafton. She claimed later, that she had forced the pointer, so we’ll never know if there was a ghost willing to be contacted in that room that night.

Despite the fact that I did not really want to teach children, and despite the strictures placed on us at Smith House, my memory of this time in this group is one that I treasure. We all seemed to complement one another with our different names and personalities, some ‘big’ some meeker, like our hairdos! But all contributing in some way to the group dynamics. I was shocked that first evening when Miss Dulcie Lindsay, the head warden, as she was called, in her mannish grey suits and black shoes, made her first speech and told us we would have to sign in and out by 9 pm every week night and 11 pm on weekends. She acknowledged that we would want to “try out our wings!” which made it worse, for I had had enough of this at home, and I wanted to take off. So we all remained immature and innocent for those two years; I remember thinking how “bad” the girls from Sydney were, always climbing in and out of windows and balconies after hours. But they knew how to look after themselves and never got caught! (Lynne says she used to let them in a lot as she had the room at the front of Smith House).

As for us, we made our own fun together, and we had lots of it; who knows if it would have been better or not to have had more freedom?

My brother Donny was brave. He could climb the tallest trees in the valley where we grew up. I was three and afraid of the dark, when Dad sent me back to my room in the middle of the night. Because he wanted Mum all to himself. I climbed in next to Donny and felt the flip of his penis like a lizard, as he moved in his sleep to make room for me. Donny wasn’t afraid of snakes or frogs or anything. We rode Midge bareback and did circus tricks upon his rump. Donny got blamed for everything, even putting water in the rain gauge, that time I did it to punish Uncle Eric because he scared me with his gruffness. He ran Grandma’s farm like the Godfather. His red face, loud mouth and jerky hands on the reins. When my brother went off to school, I was sad and angry. He didn’t notice me when he came home on that first day. Mum and Grandma laughed when I said the words. I might have shouted out bad words after that, down by the gum trees on the farm next to the swamps. One day Midge reared up and crushed Donny’s skull. I felt guilty, as if it was my fault. Donny wasn’t good at school; not like Billy, who was the cuckoo in the nest; Mum said he was a genius when he listened to the ‘Chickabidees of the Air’ at two years of age. ‘There’s a thin line between genius and madness!’ Grandma said to her. Donny liked finding birds’ eggs and blowing them, putting a tiny speck of red wax on the hole and placing them in a glass-lidded box. Once he caught a sparrow on the farm next door, and showed it to Old Ned, who took it from him, raised the axe slowly and deliberately, and smashed its head upon a block. Don’s head has been asleep for a long time now. It’s time for me to go to him in the nursing home. It’s time to whisper in his ear. The same words of love I cried out that day long ago. He’s in a dark place and afraid to let go. Time now to fly and soar like an eagle high up in the sky. Fly, Brother Eagle, fly!

A road train à Moree Australie (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

MoreetoBoggabilla (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Moree, with a population of about 8,000, is situated in the north-west of NSW on the Mehi River and at the junction of the Gwydir and Newell Highways. It is famous for its Artesian Spa waters, which were discovered accidentally in 1895 when a bore was sunk in search of irrigation waters. Instead, mineral water heated naturally to 45 degrees spurted upwards flooding the area. For years I had wanted to return to this town, so loved by my father.