PostHeaderIcon THE SILVER THIMBLE

We were leaving the district. Leaving the farm that had been home to four generations of my father’s family. The Great Depression still raged and times were tough for a small dairy farmer of 1937. They would try their luck in the city.

PostHeaderIcon THE MEAT ANTS ON THE WAY TO SCHOOL

We walked barefoot to school at Logan Village. The gravel road near the Quinzy Creek bridge was sometimes covered in large meat-ant’s nests. These big red ants packed a powerful sting of which we were most aware. Joan and I skirted round the nests, but one day, Marty felt brave and announced that he was going to walk through the nest. He had a heavy cold and was carrying a much soiled man’s handkerchief. As he heroically marched on, of course he was bitten and ran, yelping, out of the nest. But he dropped his hanky in so doing...we all ran on.

PostHeaderIcon THE CROWS AT BUCCAN

Recent news about crows menacing humans reminded me of my school days when Marty, Joan and I would walk barefoot the five kilometres from our home on Buccan Hill to the Logan Village School.
The first hundred or so metres down the long hill were safe enough, but then we must pass the big gum tree that stood near the entrance to the cow paddock of rich pasture on the Logan River. In this tree nested the crows!

PostHeaderIcon REMEMBERING OLD SCHOOL DAYS

How I love reading of the old days in the Tamborine Bulletin! Not only does it inform me; it sometimes takes me back to my childhood at Buccan and my school days at Logan Village. This time, I was transported to the one-teacher school where headmaster Mr Alec Brown reigned supreme. I was terrified of him, although I am sure he was just a kindly old chap who did his best for us.

PostHeaderIcon ENAMELLED PLAQUE

ENAMELLED PLAQUE

PostHeaderIcon TRUE STORY. MUM'S FEET

TRUE STORY

It was during the Great Depression, when money was in short supply, that the collector would visit weekly to pick up a small amount of cash toward the sum that was owed. The two young boys who were sitting at the top of the outside stairs glimpsed the gas man approaching. They informed their mother who was nearby on the verandah. Knowing she did not possess even the trivial necessary amount, she flung herself onto one of the handy beds, and in a panic-stricken voice beseeched her sons, ‘Quick! Cover me with the rug! And tell the man I am not at home!’

PostHeaderIcon LIVING WITH A DISABILITY

LIVING WITH A DISABILITY

PostHeaderIcon MY TAP_DANCING DAYS

MY TAP-DANCING DAYS

The Hollywood Theatre once stood proudly on the corner of Logan and Chatsworth Roads in Greenslopes. Every Saturday morning in 1938 I would take my sixpence (five cents) to attend the tap-dancing class that was held at the back of the stage. I was ten.

PostHeaderIcon MY BREAKFAST COMPANION

If I am engrossed in reading something (perhaps The Bulletin?) he will let me know he is there. Oh yes! He is impatient for me to notice him, for he wants to be fed. Not later, but now. This instant.

I know he is not popular with bird lovers. They say he frightens off the small native birds like Blue Wrens (which I love) and others. But this Mickey seems harmless to me, with his jaunty, cheerful manner.

PostHeaderIcon MEDICAL ASSISTANCE, NOW AND THEN

What a difference a few decades make! When I was a growing girl in the city, our doctor lived a few streets away. He practiced from home, and would make a lot of house calls; needs must, because in those days just prior to WWII, there would be only one car to a household, if that, and the bread-winner would probably need it daily. A big, sick child could not be lumped in the mother’s arms to a doctor’s surgery streets away.