My parents were old when they were alive.
They were old when I was born… actually I better rethink that statement, at 43 I am only 2 years off their age at my time of birth.
They were born back in 1922, when the word depression was more commonly ascribed to the Great Depression. In those days you just sucked it up, were happy to have a meal on your plates and go on with the job of living.
Dad was a city boy, oldest of 8 children.
Mum was a country girl, and only child.
When World War II broke out, the government acquired a large portion of my Mother’s family’s land to use as an infantry training base. There is a hill in the artillery range that is still named after my family. My mother and grand mother used to greet the new recruits at the train station after their trip up from Melbourne, make them cakes, write to them when they were overseas and of course, take them dancing… anything for the boys.
That’s how my mum met my dad, at a local dance (more…)