Wednesday 23rd June 2021

Women Of Courage Series. #59. Tribute To My Relatives. 74/2021.

Women Of Courage Series. #59. Tribute To My Relatives. 74/2021.

This third series of blog posts on Denyse Whelan Blogs to be found here will continue to be published each Thursday.

Here is the introduction to the series.

Courage is strength in the face of pain or grief. It’s doing something that frightens you. We face situations that demand courage every day. These situations provide us with choices, and the way we respond to those choices determines our future. Dayne Shuda

This is a different take.

I wanted to show my appreciation for the Women of Courage in my life. All of them are no longer living. I know I  am applying my judgement through my lens as a:

  • granddaughter
  • niece
  • daughter

To these women:

  • my paternal grandmother: known in this as Etta.

Henrietta Season (nee Earl) Simpson

  • my maternal grandmother: known in this as Vera.

Vera May (nee Bailey) Chapple.

  • my aunt (Mum’s sister) known in this (and to me) as Poppy

Thora Doris Chapple.

  • my mother known in this as Noreen

Noreen (Chapple) Simpson.

I know this is a very lengthy post and some may not wish to read it all. I wrote their stories of courage for me to remember. I hope you get to read some parts. I found it a process which helped me get more insight into who came before me, and what qualities I may have inherited or learned as behaviours.

About Etta.

I knew Etta as Gran. When we lived in Wollongong too, we saw her more often. Dad shares that it was always by obligation. She visited us in Sydney, coming up by train and she attended our wedding and got to see her great grandchildren from both me and my brother before dying in her late 80s in 1985.

Etta displayed enormous courage in 1920, to follow her then fiance, a soldier from Australia, back to his hometown Wollongong. She left everyone and everything she knew back in, as she called it, “home”.

Nevertheless, love won. She married, and despite some England vs Scotland prejudice (Andy, her husband was of Scottish descent) she went on the have her first two children, one of whom is my Dad. Over time, though, I can guess her courage waned, as during the Great Depression years, her husband was out of work, and by then two more children came along.

A family of 4 small mouths to feed, and to find work for her husband, she courageously left the family home with them all. It was owned by  her mother –  a widow who had migrated shortly after her daughter. My father tells me the stories of them driving up to Auburn in Sydney, to live temporarily for his Dad to have work. It did not last, and they, like many, relied on some work, handouts and more.

How do I imagine this was for Etta? I think, given she was a middle class woman from England it must have taken an enormous amount of courage to live in a new country with new ways, and to deal with society in that city where she lived. You see, I know that her husband was banished in some ways from his family due to underlying secrets about money and jobs. Sigh. She had to deal with those disappointments and a lack of what she might have thought was coming to her and her new husband when she arrived in Australia.

Yet…..there was more to come. In 1935 her love and husband died. From an injury sustained in the work he got back into at the Steelworks. She was widowed with 4 kids, the youngest was aged 2. From my then 11 year old father’s recollection she remained sad, and unable to offer her children some of the love and discipline they might have  needed. Instead, as he tells it, that came from her mother, Edith.

What Have I Learned About Myself From This Woman of Courage?

I have learned compassion. I am also far less likely to quickly make a judgement about other people’s decisions. I do not judge Etta at all now. I have tried to share with Dad (in our recent chats) just how hard it must have been for this woman he called Mum. She had no idea that being courageous would lead her to a life of poverty and being shunned socially in the town where they lived.

Etta did ‘classy’ for special occasions like my christening and her Mum did too!

About Vera.

When I remember Vera, Nanny to me, I remember her care for me but it was edged with a pretty strict regime. She died when I was about 8, my mum losing her Mum in her 30s. I stayed with her and my Papa and their extended family quite a bit as a child and always felt loved and cared for. However, in the latter years of her pretty short life I recall her severely affected by a stroke and that my grandfather cared for her at home for sometime. I have a strong memory too, of an Ambulance taking her to Wollongong hospital, and that later my mum was very sad because her mother had died.

I have done some family history research as has my daughter and with Dad still having an excellent memory I ask him about his late mother-in-law  and her life. She lived a hard physical life. It was in a rural/small town area of the south coast of N.S.W. Interestingly she and her brother (Don) married a brother and a sister (Ettie). So there was a closer blood relationship between the families. My grandmother worked at home, and kept the home fires burning even after having 3 children because her husband had been blinded in one eye in an accident at the local coal mine. In fact, he was in Sydney Eye Hospital having surgery on his eye socket and to have a glass eye added when my Mum (Noreen) was born in Dapto.

From that time, of course, there were hardships relating to one person unwell and unable to work full time again, even though he did what he could. Vera lived by Christian convictions (she was Presbyterian) and her strictness around the family life and upbringing may have contributed to her courage. I do know she tried to have me read the bible from a very young age. I still have it.

Then, tragedy struck.

In a way that no-one could envisage but would in some ways become a life saver of sorts. Vera’s sister-in-law, her husband’s sister and married to her brother, died giving birth to her third child – a daughter. This was in mid 1920s. Neither survived. Nor did her husband and father of 2 sons, ever recover. Vera, whose own situation was pretty dire, agreed for the family’s sake that she, her husband and 3 children – Poppy, a son, and Noreen, would move to the house that was being paid off by her brother. This allayed fears of being evicted from their rental as work was thin on the ground during the Great Depression.

Now I add what I know is hearsay. From my Dad, telling me Mum’s memories. That house was full. It had 3 bedrooms. Your Nanny and Papa slept in one room, Uncle Don & his son, another, and your mother & Poppy in the other one. Bobby (son of Uncle Don) slept on one part of the verandah as did your Uncle Keith. This pattern continued even as I recalled as a child. Over time, the children became adults who could work. And they did. It was the start of WW2. Your grandmother had not only a house full of family but made the house available for soldiers stationed near by and of course was encouraged to give back due to her Christian upbringing. She worked. As did those other woman, your mother and aunty, just to keep the household fed. Her brother contributed nothing other than the shelter. He sunk into a deep, life lasting depression, only emerging on days when his beloved greyhounds needed training and then to catch up with other trainers. 

What Have I Learned About Myself From This Woman of Courage?

I have learned that despite life’s biggest and hardest challenges we can survive. However, sadly, that did not help Vera live. Her life stopped. Prematurely. In 1957 Vera died. She had been unwell with blood pressure causing a stroke and then another one ending her life. I remember my Mum’s sadness the most. I learned that I have strong women in my mother’s family but that their health frailty and anxiety about health is something I have been given. I am more resilient as a result of recent life events like my cancer but I also am wary of my health because of my lineage. I do take medication for high blood pressure and it is controlled well.

I hope Vera was happy on her wedding day.

About Poppy.

As I prepare this post, it is Poppy’s birthday and she would have been 98.  Dear woman she was to me and my brother and to our kids as well.  Born Thora Doris, that was shortened to Poppy by one of the relatives and that’s who she was to us. She was the middle of 3 with Mum, Noreen, the younger. These two shared a bed in one room until Mum left home to marry Dad. They were a  sporting and community minded family even with the hardships at home and little money. Poppy’s intelligence was good enough to get her from the local primary school into the selective  Wollongong  H.S. in the late 1930s and funnily enough she was in 2 years up from my father! But she still had to leave school, as Dad did, aged 15.

Poppy and Noreen played competition sport: Hockey to be exact. They played at representative level and  it was a great way to meet others socially too.  They travelled around N.S.W. and to Sydney.  This was mostly by train. I have included both of their Hockey photos in this post. I am the least sporting person ever but I did inherit a love of competition from someone!

I only ever heard dribs and drabs about Poppy’s life as a young adult. I know she was shy. I know too, that she trained to be a telephonist. Those were the women who sat at large banks of phone lines and plugged in calls.  First with the Post Office in her local area on  the South Coast, and then after the war, she went to the Steelworks to work  in their section. Before that, I understand she may have had a boyfriend but that he  was  killed in the war. My mum seemed to attract more male attention  but I don’t think my aunt  was ever jealous. She was already friends with my dad before mum met him.

But what about her courage?

It’s in sharing this story that I acknowledge one of mental  ill-health, sadness and grief. She lost her Mum  (Vera) at an early age. Work at home fell to her, even though she was a full-time  working woman. I was a  young kid and my brother and I were spoiled a lot by her: lollies, taking us to the Dapto Show and more. She loved to read and I devoured her women’s magazines when I stayed with her.

Life  challenges took a big toll.

As I understand it, she had what was called a nervous breakdown based on her workload and went into a Sydney private hospital  for electro convulsive shock  treatment. I was about 11. I remember visiting her but not much else. She was able to return home and was given modified duties with her employer away from the switchboard. That continued until she turned 60. She was well-respected. An ardent follower of sport – Rugby League in particular- and a kinder and more caring Aunty and Great Aunty I am yet to  know.

What Have I Learned About Myself From This Woman of Courage?

I have learned selflessness is something that needs to be balanced with self care. I saw Poppy taking care of everyone else first…and then, over time, herself last. She used to eat for comfort too but was incredibly lonely as well. Her latter years of life were spent in a new-to-her house, which was almost hers along with her older brother who was severely unwell due to depression, and excessive alcohol intake and more. She rarely saw people once she stopped work and so that was something I, along with my parents would try to rectify with visits and encouraging her to come and stay with us. She was the kindest hearted person and totally devoted to her family. I have learned that overdoing it via work can cause issues with our health (yes, I know I too suffered) and that seeking treatment and continuing life afterwards is not to be discounted. In fact that IS an act of courage right there.

Poppy is next to little girl in pink hat, and to my Dad in blue shirt. I think this might have been her last Christmas with us.

About Noreen.

It’s only been in the recent 5 or so years that I have been interested in, and talking more to Dad about, Mum’s history. Dad and I are the talkers. Mum sure could talk but she also had an impediment for as long as I can recall. Mum was left very deaf in one ear in particular, which her specialists back in the mid 50s attributed to having children. In fact she and Dad were told not to have more. Before I go back to earlier times, even before she met Dad, I remember her being upset because she couldn’t hear. I know Dad always came to us kids in the night because when Mum was lying on one side, she heard nothing. But what I want to recall is her immense courage in doing something to help her hearing. She was a shy woman from the South Coast but it would be an operation of big magnitude that her ENT specialist in Sydney said would help restore some hearing….and she went through with it.

We were under 10s then and I remember feeling sad about Mum’s absence. Dad took us up to RPA one time. Interesting fact, when I was in Chris O’Brien Lifehouse, my room overlooked Gloucester House where Mum had that surgery. And it helped her for some time but in her latter years, she needed more hearing aids. It frustrated her so much when we would talk and she wouldn’t know what we were saying, and in a group setting, or people around a table it was more annoying too. Sigh. I am wondering about compassion here. My husband tells me I talk loudly and it is true and it is always clear (OK, bit rough since my mouth reconstruction) but we used to have to do that at home.

Mum was the baby in her family. However that did not coming spoiling as I wrote in Vera’s story, Noreen and Poppy had home duties even when high school and work called. Mum did enjoy fashion. She worked locally in a store and eventually, for her, got the job of her dreams selling shoes. Honestly, I am so not like that. Mum had the best collection but was a small size, frustratingly for her granddaughters. She became someone who loved her competitive sport and I have seen that in her as a tennis player (it was a way to become friends in Sydney, when she joined a club). She was lithe, fast moving and skilled. Hockey made her very competitive.

About the courage she had. I talked to Dad about this not long ago. As a woman who had met the man to become her husband through the Scouting Movement, she became friends with his friends, and her sister often accompanied them on picnics and overnight stays. All above board. They were wed, he continued study to be an accountant whilst building their first home, and Mum worked each week…and I was eventually born. Just into the new house too and Dad was transferred to the Melbourne office, very unwillingly. He made it a deal, that he had to be home for his daughter’s first birthday and he did. However, in the midst of that year, Mum very courageously took us both by plane (1950 people!) to Melbourne from Sydney. I cannot fathom how much courage that took but love won!

But after marriage, and having one child, when she saw Dad not only get his driver’s licence and a family car, she decided that was for her too. She got that licence soon after my brother’s birth and had independence not many 1050s women enjoyed. Yet, she loved her house, her neigbourhood and more. And then all that came undone.

She had already dealt with the death of her mother. But her husband had some news she did not like. He was being promoted to head office in Sydney and he really could not turn that offer down. She did not want to go. Everything was unknown. Dad eventually convinced her it was the right move but he was challenged by the circumstances too because of the time between when he had to start and when he could move us up after selling the ‘first home’ built together.

My views on Noreen’s courage from there:

  • she accepted the move, despite her anxiety and loss of family and friend support
  • she ended up, as parents often do, making friends with a woman whose son was in the same class as hers and from then on, it was great..over time of course. But she had met many people close in age, interests and more. That remained the case until her death!
  • she joined P&C, Scouts & Guides parent groups, tennis clubs, card clubs, was part of the first V.I.E.W. Club formed to raise funds for The Smith Family, she did Meals of Wheels and more
  • she became more of the sole parent at times, being independent with a car helped, as Dad travelled interstate and then…the big one:
  • 1966 he was flown by the company he worked for, around the world, ending in Hawaii for 6 weeks at Harvard Management of Business Summer School. It changed his life. Mum cried at the kitchen sink after he left. I had never seen that before.
  • But, as in all things, she rallied and we were teens at school, and she even drove us with friends to Port Macquarie
  • Over time I saw Mum grow in her personal strength indicating a change for the good in terms of courage
  • She did not do well however, with her own illness. Who does?
  • Well, she became so unwell at the end of her life because she lost her confidence, her ability to manage her body well and I believe that in keeping Mum as safe as he could, Dad was right but it was at the expense of ever knowing what had happened inside her to cause her death.

What Have I Learned About Myself From This Woman of Courage?

It’s taken me till the past few years to realise that I could learn to “talk less” as they say and listen more. Noreen used to say I rushed my kids too much in the mornings, getting them to school and pre school, and I agree but I also had to….and I liked work outside the home. In fact I needed it. But I also look back now at Mum and admire her quiet courage…especially when she did not want to “be” or “do” what she was. In the end, and it was her almost end, it was her words “no more test, nothing” that set the path for her once it was discovered she had secondary brain tumours. That’s courage done confidently and quietly but firmly.

We all agreed, as did her team.

Thanks Noreen, for my life, and for me making better inroads into understanding you and your life way past the time when I could tell you so. I had to get to now to know this, aged 71. You died when I was 58.

Such a favourite. Noreen, with her first granddaughter, at the front of 61, with Andrew, Dad.

Thank you to readers who came this far. I really appreciate it.

Denyse.

 

Joining with Natalie here for Weekend Coffee Share.

Copyright © 2021 denysewhelan.com.au – All rights reserved.

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Reflections On Mother’s Day 2021. 56.1/2021.

Reflections On Mother’s Day 2021. 56.1/2021.

 

Content Warning: Should any post about Mother’s Day be a concern for you, please don’t read…I am sorry for your situation whatever it is.

 

After a long period of reflection (years) I chose to write about Mother’s Day to be published on Mother’s Day, 2021.

My mother told me Mother’s Day flowers were chrysanthemums and were always white. She recalls her mother being given a white flower at church on Mother’s Day. I remember these things. But cannot find any pics of chrysanthemums.

Here it IS Mother’s Day 2021.

I cannot help but do a trip down memory lane to try to understand my mother and my mothering…OK. Not all of it, because much cannot be put into words.

Reflections.

  • I grew up in a 1950s-60s  household where Mother’s Day was remembered….by my father whose domineering and controlling manner meant I have had his words about this occasion rattling around my head since I could remember. Maybe 6 till my recent old(er) age.
  • It was a day where of course we gave Mum a card, probably some flowers and may be a gift. But I never thought of the occasion without ‘obligation’. This is who I am. Long memory.
  • Mum was a kind, sharing and shy woman whose care of her husband and us two kids was exemplary. She loved that she could care for us that way. In fact, it carried on to the ways in which our kids and my brother’s would remember “Noreen” for, and her three great-grandchildren who knew her before her death in 2007.
  • Dad….where will I start? Here at the point of the conversation I had with him only 3 weeks ago when I spoke of the courage his mother had coming to Australia to marry her fiance. His comments? “She was alway cranky and complaining and wanted to know, when we arrived to visit, when we were returning” OK. I understand but as I said, Gran having been widowed with 4 kids probably had a lot of grief.
  • So why did I begin to resent the forced nature of Mother’s Day? Probably for that reason. It did not come from my heart and then, as I had kids (strange but true) I believe I began to feel the old family history repeating itself.
  • Sigh.
  • I became entangled in the “event” that should be happening as I am a mother. Oh how embarrassed I am now about that. I did not demand anything (not my Dad) but I felt sad and disappointed if I was forgotten on Mother’s Day.
  • Cringe.

What Has Changed?

  • My mature thinking, a big dose of cancer and an obligation-free mindset
  • I honour MY adult kids as they make me so proud to be their Mum.
  • I actually asked my kids, a few years back,  to allow for my imperfections (there are many) as their Mum as I was, at the time, doing the best I knew.
  • I expect nothing back. At long last. Not anything. Thanks Dad…by the way, I have told him this but his memory is…dim.
  • I know that I am loved but I do not need to see evidence or whatever based on the ‘have to’ mindset we see far too often.

Two Posts: 1971 and 1979.

These two posts are about my mothering years, in particular giving birth to our daughter, and then after a long gap where we thought that we could not have any more children, we had our son.

My Mother’s Day 2021.

  • It’s a Sunday.
  • We will be cleaning the house on our fortnightly roster.
  • I will go out for my Sunday coffee.
  • I will reflect on my gratitude for a change of mind and heart and send my love to our kids and their kids…and Dad.
  • Forgiveness is powerful as is My Loving Kindness practice.

Take care of yourselves and each other.

Denyse.

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Why A.N.Z.A.C. Day Is One To Commemorate Not Celebrate. #SundayStills. 50/2021.

Why A.N.Z.A.C. Day Is One To Commemorate Not Celebrate. #SundayStills. 50/2021.

But first, About Sunday Stills:

Terri here has now  moved into her new abode and her friend from Always Write  was caring for Sunday Stills while she did so. I will share this post soon too.

I also chose not to follow the prompt this week, instead wanting to share about a very special day in Australia’s and New Zealand’s year: firstly with this video.

A.N.Z.A.C. Day. 25 April

Wall of Remembrance. Australian War Memorial. Canberra.

I think about my paternal grandfather who I never met. My Dad’s Dad. He was not quite 21 years old when he convinced his mother (he was an only son) to sign the papers so he could enlist. He fought in France. One of these young men is my paternal grandfather. I do not know and even though Dad is still around, the quality of the photo makes it difficult for identification. These are Aussies through and through!

We are not sure which of these men is my paternal grandfather.

He survived and returned with a War Bride. My Grandmother who then lost her husband in an awful workplace accident some years later, leaving her with 4 children to rear alone. My Dad was #2 child.

My Dad: far right, is 97 and still living. His siblings died many years back.

Dad’s father: Andrew’s Certificate of Discharge in 1920. The war ended in late 1918 but of course, our troops had to be repatriated and as he became engaged to an English lass, she came to Australia in 1919-1920. Unsure of exact date. He was 24 on discharge.

 

I used to make A.N.Z.A.C. biscuits and even tune into the March on TV in Sydney.

I also popped over to one of the local Services in past years.

I like to pay my respects and show appreciation.

Instead, with COVID crowd limitations and taking care to socially distant, I will visit the local memorial later where I took these photos recently.

 

A Mandala I drew & coloured for A.N.Z.A.C. Day 2017.

A Mandala for A.N.Z.A.C. Day 2017.

I have a ‘thing’ about writing A.N.Z.A.C. this way….because it is shortened for: Australia New Zealand Army Corps. The word is pronounced as ANZAC. The word is also carefully guarded by Australia and its use needs to be approved for any commercial use so as not to diminish the reverence with which the name is held.

My Dad is someone who finds A.N.Z.A.C. Day difficult because he was restricted from serving as his family and friends did due to being in a ‘protected industry’. Instead, he volunteered in his local community as well as worked at the Steelworks as a trainee clerk.

My last word: It’s weird but if there had not been this War and the meeting of my paternal grandparents then…I would not have been born.

 

What does A.N.Z.A.C. Day mean for you?

Are there any special things you do on A.N.Z.A.C. Day?

How does your country commemorate the sacrifice of those from wars both current and past?

Denyse.

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Good. 12/51.#LifeThisWeek. 36/2021.

Good. 12/51.#LifeThisWeek. 36/2021.

A GOOD shot of the STORM at the beach where I went to feel GOOD after a few days of illness.

GOOD.

What comes to mind for you?

It’s a subjective word for me. I have used it that way many a time myself as a teacher, a mother, and a grandmother:

  •  “be a good boy and stand over there while we get the car”…..
  • “come on, who’s being good today? I will be finding people for a special reward”
  • “if everyone is good by the time we get to lunch today, there will be a special time in the afternoon for free play”

You get the picture?

But just in case.

Here’s another form, that was often used on me. I was the “GOOD” girl, in the family. Meaning what? Apparently my father tells me because I slept better than my younger brother.

Then as life went on, as a girl, into teen and becoming a woman, I was told to be good, behave, and given my “eldest child” nature, of course I did.

Sigh.

But is that what good is?

Sometimes it can be far more general, and less likely for me to get heated about the oft used term…to me, to flatter….“you are such a good girl”.

In my head NO I AM not…and anyway, that’s a story for my memoir….oh right, yes, so it seems I have already started. A long time ago.

Back in early 2017 I took the words of this woman, Maya Angelou and found the courage to start my memoir, Telling My Story.

https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/maya_angelou_133956

I’m convinced of this: Good done anywhere is good done everywhere. For a change, start by speaking to people rather than walking by them like they’re stones that don’t matter. As long as you’re breathing, it’s never too late to do some good. Maya Angelou.

 

Quotes on GOOD.

https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/william_shakespeare_109527?src=t_good

 

https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/marcel_marceau_101346

 

https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/anne_frank_109060?src=t_good

 

https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/martin_luther_king_jr_390143?src=t_good

Good as a description.

I have always considered it pretty bland. Somewhere between excellent and not.

I admit, I would not have liked it as a comment teachers wrote on reports on their students back in the day…because “what does good mean?”

Mediocre.

Somewhere in the middle.

Is my inner cynic showing?

Do you know how many movies there are with the word “good” in them? I do not have a total because I got bored but for example:

A Few Good Men

And then there are songs:

Good Golly Miss Molly

And TV series:

The Good Place

And shops:

The Good Guys

Is there anything else I might add?

No. Thank you.

That’s GOOD then because I have finished.

Good to go?

Yes.

Press Publish.

Thanks, Denyse, it’s been good working with you.

Ha!

Who thinks up these optional prompts?

Ooops. Sorry, it’s Denyse.

Good Night.

Good Day.

Good Bye!

P.S. Was there any good from this post for you? Anything at all?

Maybe this: My GOOD mantra:

Link Up #232

Life This Week. Link Up #232

You can link up something old or new, just come on in.

* Please add just ONE post each week! NOT a link-up series of posts, thank you.

* Feel free to go with the prompt for the week to add your ‘take’ on the prompt. Or not.

* Please do stay to comment on my post as I always reply and it’s a bloggy thing to do!

* Check out what others are up to: Leave a comment on a few posts, because we all love our comments, right!

* Add a link back to this blog in your post somewhere, or on your sidebar or let others know somewhere you are linking up to this blog’s Life This Week.

*Posts deemed by me, the owner of the blog & the link-up, to be unsuitable for my audience will be deleted without notice. These may include promotions, advertorials and any that are overly religious or political or in any way offensive  in nature.

* THANK you for linking up today! Next Week’s Optional Prompt: Heroic. 13/51 29 March 2021.

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Telling My Story. Chapter Twenty One. Part 2/2. 2015. 19/2021.

Telling My Story. Chapter Twenty One. Part 2/2. 2015. 19/2021.

The backstory first:

Well over a hundred three years ago ….I thought it was time, seeing I had a blog, to start writing my story. It was on advice from a blogging friend, now published author that I did. Then, for a long time I did not. Because cancer was diagnosed.

Nevertheless, I eventually returned to the story and now I am at...Chapter Twenty One.  Part Two 2015. Part One was published here.

So, in keeping with my ethical approach to all things, I am making the chapters about MY recollections to various changes in life for me, and us, and life as we knew it. I hope I can continue sharing the story without any intentionally negative or hurtful references to others who are in my life as friends and family members. All of the stories to date found here.

Well, it seems I survived my first half of 2015 living at the southern end of the Central Coast but wait, there is more, much much more.

Are you ready?

Here we go:

June and July.

Emotions Are Tricky!

We had some reasons for visit Sydney: my gastroenterologist who was happy to see me and with a positive outcome from an MRI done back in May he believed my insides were OK but that I.B.S. was just a part of me that needed my management.

Neither he nor the GP had any reason to be concerned about my weight loss over time which was in fact because : I really couldn’t bring myself to eat much at all as almost always it would result in some kind of stomach reaction.

It was truly horrible for me who WANTED to be social but could not go out for lunch or entertain for a meal. I stuck to coffee and cake – if I could even do that and most people who cared about me understood that.

I on the other hand was very self-critical. And would continue to be for years. Seriously. Yes, I was blaming me for things that were probably needing compassion and kindness but “black and white” thinking Denyse had not quite given up her harsh words.

We had grandkids who we love dearly come and stay for a couple of nights and whilst I love their company I got myself overly worried about things and them and found the stress bothersome. I did not like that either.

Yes I was doing meditation. Every day. I was seeing my G.P. pretty often too. She was running out of ideas for my emotional equilibrium and on one occasion when I was at breaking down crying point, put me onto an anti-depressant. I agreed to it. My husband was sceptical but went along with it. I took it once. I had such a physical reaction to it that I declared “never again”. Suffice to say, after days of diarrhoea my G.P. wholeheartedly agreed.

I blogged. Every day. By this time, I was now joining in link ups and that helped me have some conversations on line.

I joined in a private group where we supported ourselves trying to Flourish. There were some great programs in there and from there I added to my repertoire of mindfulness by doing an on-line MOOC course from a Uni in Melbourne learning about Mindfulness and Stress. Excellent work.

I had already begun my large collection of writers, scholars, and more who I would learn more from and about and this helped me feel less alone.

My post here on Calm Days and Calm Nights has all of the titles I found useful to grow and learn.

My husband was, when he could be, an amazing support. I did however, have very few people to talk to and with and this contributed to more isolation.

Dealing with family news was hard on me. I simply did not have the emotional capacity to support as I might have now because I had no skills, and I was totally trying to deal with myself.

Sigh.

August, September and October.

Dear readers, assume that I continued with my health care and seeking answers.

  • These also included things like going for a drive,
  • watching the waves,
  • walking on the beach and near nature.
  • Whilst I did (do) enjoy going to shopping centres, I am afraid to say I felt lonelier there when I saw people with their grandkids and/or friends and chatting.
  • I wanted that. I also knew, intellectually I had had that and now it was no longer happening. Sigh. Again.

We celebrated our daughter’s birthday at our place.

She took some images of us for a TV program called Compass about married couples. Our shots were part of the promo.

Family time was always welcomed but I had become hypervigilant and that did not help my stress and I.B.S.

I had my last role in education. I was invited to be part of a Teach Meet and it was to be held at my former High School. Last visited by me in 1967! It was a thrill to present there and to get to have a tour of the school to see the many changes. Grateful and proud of doing this one last talk of my career.

We had a short stay in Parramatta while my husband attended a compulsory course for his degree and I was alone for some of that time and did catch up with our family. My level of anxiety staying there and no longer being in our home rose and I would not do that again. I did see one of my granddaughters for a play and we went to tea at our daughter’s house but I was not great. Tried to look it..but…

By this time we were certain we were not staying on…in this overpriced rental nor in the area. It was a strange place. A town like no other. We have lived in country towns but this was not friendly. Sadly. I began the search on-line and then in real time of the northern end of the Central Coast and it seemed like a place and area that would suit us more.

As luck would have it, on a drive past the house we saw on line in October, the owners (former, actually) were around and asked did we want to have a look inside. Oh, yes please. Totally not supposed to do this of course, but we did and knew, if we could, this would be the one. It was to become that indeed! But more to come…

November into December. Big Months but Better Ones! 

The House. We got the new house to rent and it would be…over $150 less than what we were paying and it was a one level ducted air con, 4 bed, 2 bathroom house…very similar to what we had sold. Suddenly things were already looking better. BUT…

As we were breaking the lease of the other place, and they could not find anyone to re-lease it too, we did DOUBLE ups till the end of December. Not great.At all. However, the emotional relief was worth it.

Now instead of being separated from each other at night, as he went upstairs to bed, study and TV and I stayed downstairs, we would both be on the same level.

The move itself was OK. I took the chance to do more culling and all that but we still had a lot. Probably still do.

Nevertheless mid November we were northern end of the Central Coast inhabitants and pleased to be there.

For my 66th Birthday I tried something challenging and whilst I did it I know it was hard for me because of …..you guessed it…I.B.S.

  • I drove to see our family at our son’s place for an afternoon tea catch up and small birthday celebration.
  • I was in heaven to be with all of the family but it was tense.
  • I now know from this many years vantage point, it was not something from anything I had done. Nevertheless I feel things. 
  • I then joined our daughter’s family in a crowded and busy household for Christmas decorating day and dinner.
  • The next day, my actual birthday they all went to work and school and I saw my son’s two little ones and their mum and then drove to my Dad’s for a morning tea with my brother, sister in law and Dad.
  • THAT was a very full on couple of days for me. But, I did it.

 

Coming up to Christmas I was determined to see Dad if I could and drove down with some goodies and we said we would not travel to anyone on Christmas Day. I think that was because I was thinking about me, traffic and….you guessed it I.B.S. Truly that IS how much it affected me.

I stayed with the same doctor I had started seeing when we lived closer, and between us we always hoped things would improve for me. I began seeing a fantastic psychologist who challenged me and my often-critical thoughts and gave me assignments to help me learn by observing. She was keen for me to continue my art which grew hugely by the time we moved to this newer and better house because I had a dedicated area for my creating. That was so good. I also had space for private meditation and listening to some of the many people who helped me, eventually, find my way.

I.B.S. would continue to challenge me. It affected all I did. I could not plan to leave home unless I was pretty sure I would be OK. I had to know of toilet locations. I carried spare clothing and clean up items with me. I hated it but I did that. I did, though, find more to help me via another book and a course. All are too much in detail to outline here but they gave me an understanding that my emotions were in my gut and it was telling me how I was.

In the next couple of chapters, 2016 and 2017 I.B.S. continues to get a lead role…even though I hate admitting that.

And into 2016 here is what I hoped would help me.

And whilst it may not have worked like a charm…this did.

I got right back into blogging getting help from my kind friend Tanya (who still does my images) and with her help and my ideas I began 2016 rocking the blog with categories, and more. I blogged daily until around September 2016. More on that next post.

Phew.

Re-living this was a challenge as I wrote but I also got to congratulate myself for coming through. Little did I know, of course, that much more was in store for 2016. No, the family issues and my health ones did not go away. And then we will come to 2017…and many readers already know about that BUT we can wait, right?

Thanks for your kindness in reading these posts…if indeed you are here, then you must have!

How was 2015 for you?

Denyse.

Joining with Leanne for Lovin’ Life Linky here.

 

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Telling My Story. Chapter Twenty One. Part 1/2. 2015. 15/2021.

Telling My Story. Chapter Twenty One. Part 1/2. 2015. 15/2021.

The backstory first:

Well over a hundred three years ago ….I thought it was time, seeing I had a blog, to start writing my story. It was on advice from a blogging friend, now published author that I did. Then, for a long time I did not. Because cancer was diagnosed.

Nevertheless, I eventually returned to the story and now I am at...Chapter Twenty One. Part One.2015.

So, in keeping with my ethical approach to all things, I am making the chapters about MY recollections to various changes in life for me, and us, and life as we knew it. I hope I can continue sharing the story without any intentionally negative or hurtful references to others who are in my life as friends and family members. All of the stories to date found here.

Telling My Story. Chapter Twenty One. Part One. 2015.

As I have noted in previous chapters, the memories from some years remain strong, and often are sad ones. However, despite this being true for me, I must push on, as they say, and share how life was for me…in 2015. Back then.

Time To Move (on) and More.

As mentioned in Chapter Twenty, we sold our house and were ready (I thought I was anyway, he was!) to make this big move in our lives.

January.

After new year, we continued our packing up AND memory-making. My husband was very keen to leave the house, the gardens, the grounds and the pool in tip top shape for the new owners as settlement loomed for mid-January.

I on the other hand was keen to enjoy what I would not be able to in my future,  and that meant some grandchildren sleepovers and swims and get-togethers. My Dad had his 91st birthday with all of his then family around him at my brother’s house. We made trips to and from the Central Coast house we were about to move into and I guess being THAT busy helped to block the emotional pulls that would eventually wound me.

And we were off…kind of. I went in my car, fully laden to the Central Coast house. My husband stayed back to oversee the removalists. This was not a great day weather-wise and the person we booked the move with was on holiday so he sent another team. Nevertheless most of everything that could be packed up and moved on that day was. The remainder was collected by my husband when he returned on settlement day to be with our agent and the new owners.

A note on the house we rented.

IT WAS UNSUITABLE in so many ways and I will admit this was chosen in haste, and in deference to me, my husband went along with it. Sigh. Everything I thought I needed to be for a change of residence was not to be.

Remember too, I am writing with the benefit of both hindsight and a much clearer state of emotional health.

  • I did not need to be closer to Sydney 
  • I did not take enough time ….knowing there was a rush before Christmas….to consider how this house’s structure would affect us
  • I was in a highly emotional state for the month preceding the move and could not really see any other options (then) than this house.
  • It was over-priced
  • Its two storey nature was awful. A spiral staircase led upstairs
  • The ‘only air-con comfort’ was in one part of the living area downstairs and a part of upstairs
  • We paid more than our budget told us…and literally over-paid till the end of the lease when we had moved out early. Story about that ahead.

And then it happened. Done. Settled. 

Originally we were selling to be debt-free and I was not able to continue working from a health perspective so it was the plan to sell up, pay out the mortgage, use some house sale funds to purchase new cars (both of ours were in a bad way by the end of 2014) and to have some savings behind us to maybe help buy a new house ONE DAY.

That was how it worked out. However it was not without its moments! After settlement we were able to go grocery shopping and yay for me getting a coffee too. However, at the checkout our card was declined. Oops. We had a few dollars on us. So, once home I was able to tell our conveyancers what had happened and because ‘funds are released into accounts over some days’ and we had a weekend without any $$, she arranged a transfer of the original deposit from the new owners. Phew.

Cars. We had already earmarked a car for my husband and it was ready once the funds had reached our account. My choice of a car however, should have been a heart one…but instead I made it a head one…and regretted it as soon as I drove it back up the coast. In a story of generosity and forgiveness…my husband determined that I could have the car I should have bought in the first place, and we traded in a car I had for less than a week. Lost money? Of course but lesson learned. Again.

Love my Nissan XTrail

Some family fun. January and February.

We were keen to live close to the water in this retirement life of ours and had chosen the Central Coast for both its proximity to water – still and ocean – and again, to Sydney for any family needs such as visiting my Dad and any connections with our adult children and their children, our beloved grandchildren.

Because we went back and forth a few times until school was back we entertained two grandchildren  twice and they had been coming to use for care since they were babies so it was great to have those connections still.

What Happened Next?

My husband got back into his studies for a degree in counselling and was doing two subjects on-line. He also offered to help his brother who lived nearby with some landscaping and renovations. He continued to do lifeline crisis support counselling by working shifts in a place on the central coast. He was active, productive and busy.

I was not. Well, in some ways I was but none of what I was doing helped me feel in any way settled into this new life of ours.

  1. I thought I would be driving back and forth to our family to help out, to be there and to catch up. I did for a while. I was happy to be on-call for our son’s family as they were expecting their fourth child in early 2015 and I could come down to help with picking up kids from school etc etc.
  2. I thought I would be continuing my education specialist role with the early childhood centres
  3. I thought I would drive to see my father on a regular basis
  4. I thought having made this move as a choice to change lifestyle, it would be fine.

No it was not for me.

March, April and May.

I was not well in an emotional sense and that affected my physical health. My I.B.S .(irritable bowel syndrome) reared its ugly head over and over. I would not be able to simply get in the car and go anywhere without having to medicate myself (which I HATED doing) or suffer the effects of having diarrhoea on a car journey.

We tried a little get away to Port Macquarie – a place we always loved – but I found the trip stressful due to I.B.S. and like I felt, nothing is the same.

I lost weight. Yay. But not for the reasons it happened. I was unhappy but trying to hide it. I continued to see my Sydney based G.P. who oversaw my handling of my I.B.S. and decided I needed to see a gastroenterologist. But before then we had a new granddaughter arrive.

Emotions were high and a bit low because of my sadness at no longer being around the little people I love so much.

We went back to Sydney to celebrate a granddaughter’s 3rd birthday and I was intensely happy to be with all of our family again, but sad once the inevitable farewells took place.

We literally weathered an awful East Coast low storm situation that had us without electricity for almost 5 days after the birthday party visit. I was very stressed during this but, my husband did what he could to make us a bit more comfortable going out in awful conditions to buy a generator and a portable gas stove. At least we could run our little fridge. All freezer food was ruined. We would go out in the car once the roads cleared to charge our phones. I managed to blog too.

I went to TedX in Sydney and thought that would be enjoyable. Usually enjoy learning. I did on some ways but now Sydney, where it was held was no longer where I lived. I felt that immensely.

I re-commenced my work as an External Observer with then Institute of Teachers doing an observation in a Sydney school. That was to be my last as the system changed.

I went back to my role as an Education Specialist, speaking at a couple of the pre-schools on different evenings and then one day, on my way back to Sydney to do this, I was overcome by the worst bout of I.B.S. diarrhoea ever. No details but suffice to say, I decided then and there, no job and the money along with the drive to and from Sydney at night was worth it and I resigned.

I was never sure where I fitted any more after that.

  • I was no longer the active and on-call Grandma
  • I was no longer employed using my NSW Education role
  • I was no longer working to help families in pre-schools
  • I could see my husband was content in all he was doing but I was not.

It was very confusing but I did my best to act as if it was OK. It was not.

Add to how it is to change where you live is “finding a hairdresser” and that was interesting. I got a few cuts from a person near where we moved but it never seemed right. Finding a dentist proved easier. He was “OK” and whilst I did not know it then, I would be getting insight into my mouth and what may have been causing some white spots on the gums. Mmmm. A story we do know more about but will leave it till 2017. I found a physiotherapist who was good for some back and arm issues I had. And, a podiatrist. He was lovely. Still, it does take some research. In 2016 I will share how I found my best hairdresser!

I was searching for answers to WHY….as I am a ‘help myself’ person and I found something which was a catalyst for change:

A Meditation Centre running a course on Anxiety and Teaching Meditation.

Then What Happened?

Into the next few months I managed a lot of change in and for my life.

It did not always go well.

In fact I face quite a few disappointments, some challenges and some days where I knew I was making progress with my health. Onward…and the months may get a bit mixed up so I will add points rather than months!

I tried a few of the so-called Retirement Activities:

  • An Art Class
  • Making Up a Mindful Colouring Class & hosting it
  • Going to Places for Coffee and Chatting
  • Training for a role as a Volunteer

They did not suit nor last the distance for me.

Meditation. 

The day at the Meditation centre taught me quite a bit and I felt less lonely as someone finding the new life quite tough. I met some people there and mostly the talk was about where do you live, etc etc. One person gave me a card about a great G.P. practice she liked and said that I would find a doctor there she was sure. You see, I was still making my way back to Sydney and it was no longer easy to do so with I.B.S. and generally ill-ease at returning.

I also decided to download a meditation app called Headspace and liked it very much. I am an early adopter too and it had only been on the market for a while.

I made a time for meditation each day, set up a space in my bedroom overlooking the water and waited, over time, for my cure from the ill-ease I felt emotionally. Reader: it never came.

Finding Medical Help Locally.

From the middle of the year this was helpful. I found the personable female G.P. at the recommended clinic. She and I ‘clicked’ and she was 100% understanding how hard it is to move from Sydney to the Central Coast..because she was living that life too but about a year before me.

The rapport and her understanding that my emotions needed time to work themselves out helped me a lot. To have a good listener and one who suggested ideas which might help me. Sadly nothing offered helped my I.B.S. but she was very supportive of me continuing to use immodium (I had been afraid to do so after being told off by my former gastro guy after a pancreatitis attack in 2014) as I needed. She offered the idea of seeing a psychologist. I was not clinically anxious nor depressed but I was finding the reactions and responses from all the changes very challenging.

I saw one. She was incredibly judgemental and I did not return. I then was referred to another one. So much more professional and I can share more of that later. Let me say this, it was from her that I learned this:

feelings take a lot longer to catch up from actions.

Part Two will follow. I have undertaken quite a bit sharing this so far.

2015 was a hugely significant year in my life so this is Part One, essentially till the middle of that year.

I do hope there is something of interest to you readers too.

Have you made big changes in your life and wondered about some of the emotions you have experienced?

Thanks for your interest.

Denyse.

Joining with Leanne for Lovin’ Life Linky here. 

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Telling My Story. Chapter Twenty. 2013-2014.97/2020.

Telling My Story. 2013-2014. Chapter Twenty. 97/2020.

About a hundred three years ago ….I thought it was time, seeing I had a blog, to start writing my story. It was on advice from a blogging friend, now published author (her story is here) that I did. Then, for a long time I did not. Because cancer was diagnosed.

Nevertheless, I eventually returned to the story and now I am at...Chapter Twenty.

So, in keeping with my ethical approach to all things, I am making the chapters about MY recollections to various changes in life for me, and us, and life as we knew it. I hope I can continue sharing the story without any intentionally negative or hurtful references to others who are in my life as friends and family members.

In saying that, these two years, 2013-2014  are presenting me, the memory writer and ‘rememberer’ with some internal challenges. You see, I look at my images back then and see the very overweight Denyse smiling (as she does) for the camera and sharing what she did professionally in her work well, along with caring for her family…but as I know now (and did then) I was:

  • very unhappy
  • using some foods for comfort
  • confused in some ways about what was best for me going forward
  • hiding how I felt mostly from myself I guess
  • acting out: angrily, tearily and more

In saying this, I hope to share honestly for my sake and to keep the story telling real even though to re-hash some of the memories and to see again those self-images makes me sad. I am somewhat ashamed of the me then. However, I need to let that go…over time, I guess I do. More about my weight issues here.

I have a goal to continue to present a one more of these chapters, after this one, as a snapshot of 2020…that year that was… have a break and be back in 2021.

All the posts are here if you would like to check them out.

Mixing Up The Years 2013-2014.

Changing Priorities.

By the time the end of 2014 arrived, we knew we were to become grandparents of an 8th grandchild due in 2015. This would be our son’s 4th child. He had a 3rd child with his then wife in 2013 and we cared for her and her older sister for much of 2014. In 2013 we did some care for our daughter’s 4th child along with our son’s 2nd.

We did enjoy these days very much but they were tiring as we aged.

We did this mostly together but as 2014 changed my husband’s focus to some personal and professional learning in counselling as well as becoming a trained telephone support person for Lifeline, I was left alone with one under 1 year old and I admit, I was liking that less and less. So, the compromise was made to having her 2 days a week.

The House Needed These Improvements.

My husband had a business for some years when he was 100% well and it was in kitchen cabinet making. He had to let the business go (see Chapter12 ) but his interest in maintaining our then house inside and out, grew in the years from 2012 onwards.

Whilst we never really discussed it, the house (ours since 1997), with its significant mortgage: thanks to us (ok, me) wanting to borrow to help our two adult kids get into housing, and then making more home improvements for our comfort, was going to need to be sold one day.

That day when I had a tearful conversation with my husband came around as a first discussion point in July 2014 when I was flailing at any kind of paid work pressures. They were not huge but as someone who was now quite unwell emotionally (did not realise it in reality) and longed to be free of paid work obligations this idea filled me with relief. Much to do before putting it on the market, but it all happened. See more below.

But First….there was a lot more happening! 

  • My business: Denyse Whelan Education Specialist (I dislike Expert!) and I had a newspaper article, column for a short time (local papers), a consultancy that saw me work with a local and reputable Early Childhood chain of centres in the Hills District. I helped their staff and parents navigate the world that is “after pre-school and before school”.

 

  • The blog saw me have 3 separate ones: education, schools and teachers. I had hoped, via my role as an educator/tutor for Masters of Teaching at a local University there may have been more interest on-line but my ‘at the chalkface’ role continued as a practicum supervisor and tutor at Uni (marking too!) until I asked to stop…in time for second semester 2014. I did enjoy it, but I was ready to leave the world of accountability!!

 

  • However, I continued to be an ‘as needed’ person in then NSW Institute of Teachers to visit schools as an External Observer from as far away at Cobar (went there in one day thanks to a small passenger place) to local Western Sydney schools. I enjoyed that I got to see parts of N.S.W. as a tourist and educator. Parts of my trips were paid by me if I wanted to extend the times. I did that when visiting Cobargo PS (scenes of the awful fires in 2019-2020) as I flew into and stayed at Merimbula. I did that for a Woolgoolga trip staying at Coffs Harbour and in Tamworth for my first visit to Kootingal.

 

  • The educator role also saw me invited a couple of times to appear on television in discussions and as a so-called expert. I admit “one” was enough and luckily I already knew Kerri Sackville and the appearance went well. I “needed” a new wardrobe of course, and I enjoyed being pampered in the make-up chair and saying ‘g’day to Jane Caro as she left from her segment.

Still The Grandmother AND Educator! 

In early 2014 Rick Morton (top journalist and writer) asked me some questions for a story he was writing for the Australian. He now works for The Saturday Paper. One of the images from the day is first below.

We did have lots of fun making memories, grandchildren and grandparents. Some were at times like Easter, others ‘just hanging out’ at our place where there was always paint AND playdoh! Never mix the colours, kids!

Making Memories : for Me! 

I admitted to myself there would be much I would miss about living in Sydney and being closer to the family. So, I made sure I had some special occasions to look back on. My formative years aged 10-20 were spent living near Manly and the Harbour so this was an even more special place to make memories. Mum and Dad had continued to live at Balgowlah Heights till 2011. Mum’s death in 2007 saw Dad stay for as long as he wishes but eventually, he was ready for independent retirement living at Dee Why. That’s is where I visit him now.

Few More Memorable Occasions. 2013 into 2014. 

The Changes Becoming Realities.

At the end of 2013 my organisation energies were applied to my father’s 90th Birthday luncheon. He gave me and my brother his wish list of ideas and people, and then, we, the family sorted it for him. It was held next door to his retirement place, at Dee Why R.S.L. where he hired a room and they supplied lunch for us all. We, the kids and grandkids, sorted the presentations, the decor, the name tags and more. He, was, and continues to be, overwhelmed by it. Nearly 7 years later. Anyway, it goes without saying, he enjoyed it.

Time To Make Reality Happen. Mid 2014 onwards.

In order for us to be mortgage-free the house had to be sold.

We were both keen to do that. My husband has never really been a city person and was keen to leave for the less busy areas on the Central Coast. I agreed at the time that this was the right move. It still is. However, I knew nothing about the emotional effect the changes would have on me. I will be writing about that in 2015.

What happened though was that there was a LOT of physical work to be done to ready a house for selling. We interviewed agents. Eventually we agreed on one. We half-jokingly took him up on an offer to pay him a smaller personal percentage if the house sold for over (what we though was unreachable) $800K. Late 2014, people. Western area of Sydney.

Before then, my husband finished off the outside areas, made and painted new side gates, made the pool area extra comfy and of course added fence protection to a side garden as we realised the raised grass area made the pool fence climbable. We planted a great deal and did all we could to make the outside areas of the house private as Blacktown Council had extended their community centre to our side fence.

I started detaching from the possessions that had made our space for grandchildren. We gave away a lot, sold some things and each grandchild got their own box of Christmas decorations to use in their future. Part of my tradition since becoming grandparents in 1996 was a new tree decoration for each grandchild each year. There were a LOT for our daughter’s first 3 kids!

At the same time, in late 2014,  we were trying to find somewhere to rent on the Central Coast.

We thought we would try before buying…and now, some 6 years later we are less close to buying than ever thanks to using our sum left after sale and increasing house prices here. However, we are reasonably content with renting now.

I spent a lot of time on-line and some Saturdays up and down the M1 with little success. Our wish list then was air conditioning and the southern end of the coast..closer to returning to Sydney – my idea. The house we eventually took was because of desperation. Our place had sold, we needed to be “in” somewhere around mid January 2015 so with haste, we signed up for a too expensive and too uncomfortable house with limited air conditioning.

Then It All Came To This. End of 2014. 

  • The house sold. We accepted $825,000 on the night of the first open home. We never thought it would get to that but we had a very volatile Sydney housing market and an exceptional agent.
  • The relief was palpable but there were still hurdles to overcome including the usual inspections, delays from buyers but it did all come together on 15 January 2015. We had already moved but were assured all would be fine. And it was. But it’s nail biting. And we had almost zero in our accounts!
  • We celebrated our eldest granddaughter’s 18th birthday, success in HSC thanks to first 10% of state in Drama, her solo performance at the School Spectacular with the NSW Group of Talented Drama Students.
  • We knew we had a new grandchild arriving in the following year.
  • Our daughter kindly offered (accepted!) to have our last Christmas in Sydney at her place and both of our kids and their kids attended. It began hitting home for me…these were lasts!
  • We had a few more occasions to have grandchildren over to swim and to stay…and then…that was it.

2015 Awaited Us. 

I am glad to have written this chapter. It took some doing but it’s done. I hope that you, the reader, find it of interest.

Thanks for being here.

Denyse.

Joining with Leanne and friends here for Lovin Life Linky.

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Outside. 44/51. #LifeThisWeek. 88/2020.

Outside. 44/51. #LifeThisWeek. 88/2020.

We promised ourselves a NSW country mini holiday once I was well and  COVID was not a really big issue so away we went, on Monday 19 October 2020 on a trek to where we had met, exactly 50 years earlier.

We had literally had no trips away other than for my surgeries for well over 5 years so we both looked forward to a different scene from the coast and to be away just for us.

The laws in NSW do not allow for phone use inside a car. I found that a challenge as I wanted to record scenes from the car, so….on the wide and open roads…with me checking for cars…I did a few pics. No harm was done. I say anyway!

New England Hwy. North West N.S.W.

The trip from our home on the northern end of the N.S.W. Central Coast to our main destination of the major inland north-western centre of Tamworth took us 4 hours. This included comfort and coffee stops. Thank you Maccas. We shared the driving.

From the car, on the move, in the passenger’s seat. Loved seeing effects of some recent rains.

Where We Met. Literally!

On Saturday 17th October 1970, we met at a N.S.W. Teachers’ Federation Conference at a club in Tamworth. We found it, actually my husband did because he had lived around Tamworth for some years before we met. Outside for a selfie. No, we did not go inside.

Up To The LookOut: the view is spectacular.

 

Then we went to Barraba. My first school. Appointed in 1970. My husband, even though we were born in the same year, had already been teaching in his small (one teacher) school since 1968. His High School years ended with the Leaving Certificate in 1965 whereas “I” was part of the new 6 years at High School cohort. But to get to Barraba from Tamworth, it’s a one hour drive via Manilla. We stopped there for a photo – to Boggabri the sign says – and it was along that road my then boyfriend would drive wearily home after seeing me in Barraba. Ah love….

An addition to the entrance to Barraba: these silos have been painted. How amazing! Great tribute to the rural area that makes Barraba the town it is.

 

We stopped in town, which sadly, remained depleted of many shops. Sad because even before COVID, many country towns had suffered. The drought being for one reason. Nevertheless we found a cafe, and enjoyed some morning tea. Such a quiet main street.

I remember in 1970 there was a public holiday to celebrate 200 years since Captain Cook ‘found’ Australia. The school made a float and we were part of the celebrations. I cringe now, because I am not aware that back then we made any references to the Aboriginal community in the area. Now, as I saw when we visited the outside of the school where I taught, there was evidence of traditional owners and tributes to them. I am pretty sure there would be quite a number of indigenous students at the school too.

It was, and is, Barraba Central School. The High School section is now on a different site but when I was there, it was a K-12 school campus. Wonderful social experience at that school. The teachers and all of the staff were invited by my parents to my 21st in Tamworth late in that year. Still somewhat embarrassed  by that, and as I had already met B, “we” knew there would be a wedding coming up in the New Year!

For a visit to a special place for us both in Tamworth we went here: it is called Tamworth Base Hospital but we couldn’t find a sign which said that. However, this one was close to the carpark where we both remembered my husband meeting our then week old daughter for the first time. That’s how it was back then.

There are a few chapters in Telling My Story related to our years of meeting, marrying and having our first child.

Here they are:

Telling My Story. Chapter Four. 1970. 2018.68.

Telling My Story: Chapter Five. 1971.2018. 79.

Telling My Story. Chapter Six. Becoming Mum. 1971. 2018.100.

Thanks for joining me OUTSIDE today!

Denyse.

Link Up 213

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