arrival in a new country was daunting for the whole family. My father was, or seemed, fine, as a position awaited him in a company named ‘British Nylon Spinners’ in Bayswater. He knew where he was going, we didn’t. When I say we I mean my mother, my two sisters and myself. I was twelve, Judy was nine and Linda was five. At that time, in the late fifties, we knew nothing about Australia, except that it was a long way away, and was called ‘Downunder’, whatever that meant. Maybe Mum and Dad had an inkling, but I didn’t know so how could my sisters know?
My parents wanted to live as close as they could to where Dad was going to work. This meant we, or I should say my parents, had to investigate where was a good place to live. They had only a few weeks to find something before Dad started his new job. Croydon seemed to them the likely choice as it did have a rail line and shops, although the shops looked like something out of the wild west of America with the wooden verandahs and floorboards. In those days they even had concrete water troughs in the main street and railings to tie the horses to. I remember my mother saying, ‘Where on earth have we come to?’ especially as she had noticed that some houses, not far from town, had outside toilets.
We had to find somewhere to stay whilst the hunt for a house was on. I remember it was the summer school holidays and stinking hot, even the locals said it was one of the hottest summers they’d had. The temperature ranged from 102°F to 108°F.
Where was a cooler place to stay? The mountains would be perfect, not far from Croydon and getting there wasn’t a problem as we had hired a car. The car was old, squeaky, and a bit smelly, especially in the heat, but it proved to be reliable – which was amazing as there were so many unmade and bumpy roads.
Our summer retreat, as I like to think of it now, was called Mountjoy. An old, wooden, three-storey, rambling guest-house nestled in a small hamlet in Kalorama. We stayed on the second level so we had to climb up wobbly steps that led to a long, uneven verandah with rusty railings on one side, hopefully to stop you from falling onto the crazy-paving path below. My sisters and I shared a room and Mum and Dad were nearby. The rooms were dark and pokey with small windows, and as I recall, no fans, so they became very stuffy as well.
A wonderful couple, Mr and Mrs Palethorpe, owned Mountjoy. They were very kind to us and we ended up staying there for over six weeks. We became like their second family and they were our first friends in Australia. I even helped out with their ironing for which they insisted on paying me. It helped me in more ways than I could have guessed. It became a skill which I utilised for several years to earn much wanted pocket money during my teenage years.
Mountjoy was surrounded by tall gum trees so when the breezes blew we heard the sound of rustling leaves and saw swaying treetops. ‘I wonder if they ever topple over?’ I innocently asked one of the gardeners. I soon learnt about the unpredictability of nature in Australia, how grass fires and bush fires could happen without much warning. I had never heard about these dangers but I thought, ‘I have to be brave, other people live here so it must be okay.’ Not only were there trees and grasses around us but glorious azaleas and rhododendrons in deep pinks, glacial whites and the palest blush. An oasis of colour amongst the faded grass, which was now the colour of straw, dry and ready to burn.
Our first summer in this foreign land was set to challenge us. We learnt about mosquitos. They loved our young blood and to prove this to our parents Judy and I counted up to one hundred bites on our legs. Mrs Palethorpe came to our rescue with many lotions to try, which did help a bit. We were made aware of snakes and some spiders, which luckily we didn’t see as we became very careful where we stepped and didn’t venture into creepy places where the big spiders might be.
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