I was fortunate enough to be included in a group of notable women who were featured in the above magazine, April issue. The caption on the front page read ‘Life Wisdom from Women Who Matter.’

The photographer who was sent to photograph me was told to get a semi-serious shot. This task proved to be difficult as I am not a ‘semi-serious’ type!

My fear of trusting someone else with the keys to my home began when I was eleven.

My parents had overcome to some extent the poverty associated with moving from the dairy farm at Buccan to the suburb of Greenslopes in Brisbane. It had been a brave move in 1937. After two years, we were now settled in the new house in Bunya Street and Dad had a regular job as a carpenter. Grandma and Grandad had followed us into town, and lived three streets away.

Mobile phone number: 0492 986 503

e-mail address: doreenwendtweir@gmail.com

Business phone number; 07 5545 2100

A very pleasant, well-spoken lady phoned me to order a book. Of course, I asked her about herself, as people want me to do. Was she happy with her life? W-e-e-ell, I suppose so, she said, but it was up to her to keep the home happy. How come?

She left for London and adventure when she was nineteen. An attractive creature, she appeared to be full of confidence. I suppose she really was, as she left us at the airport, with her rucksack on her back.

Her cousin worked in London, this being her only connection. She readily obtained a job, and found a place to live. She then got a second job, as she wanted to see England and the Continent. Then she met Jamie, and together they toured around. They moved in together, and subsequently wed.

A male person called me. He was quite upset.

'I swear it was just a bit on the side. I could see she was attracted to me when we first met. She was a bit older than I, but well preserved in that Scandinavian sort of way. I liked the accent. And it was easy.

I had a good excuse to be away any night I wanted to. My partner and I have an agreement that I actually live elsewhere, sleep away for at least two nights a week. To protect my future property, when I come good, and also hers. She owns the place. And I needed a new venue. The previous arrangement had fallen through.

Who needs the Help?

A nice man called to discuss my book. He told me about his recent trip to Bali.

'They are such a happy people. It is amazing how they build a big building. They frame up the huge beams where they are to remain and wheelbarrow the concrete up a plank to the site. Sometimes, the women carry the concrete, five big containers at once; one on her head, two on each end of a pole slung across their shoulders.

Two or three generations all live in the one small abode, all with smiles on their faces. What a lot we have to learn from them!

A lady called Daphne phoned to buy Sex in Your Seventies. The money arrived and I dispatched it promptly. After about a week, she phoned to say how she had enjoyed the book, and wished to order four more. She asked a prudish friend if she had read it?
‘What on earth would I read anything like that for?’ the friend, widow of a parson replied.
‘It’s a good read! I’m giving this copy to you!’ The widow lady pursed her lips in a staid fashion, and reluctantly accepted the book.

The voice was very pleasant as she introduced herself. ‘I have known about you, Doreen’ she began, ‘I lived near the Youngs in Wodonga.’
‘Oh, my bridesmaid, Anne Young...’
‘Yes. We were great friends. But we have now moved to Shepparton. It was through Anne and Peter’s recommendation that my parents, Pat and Albert Blashki came to stay with you in Brisbane at Expo 88...’
‘Really! Your parents and I have exchanged Christmas greetings ever since.’
‘I know. I have read your news from year to year, and Mum mentioned that you had written an interesting book.’
‘Sex in Your Seventies.’