tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85744273573888287432024-03-21T08:06:33.860-07:00I was born in 1948Just Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06081081064682774708noreply@blogger.comBlogger81125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574427357388828743.post-29662423465422990172023-12-09T05:24:00.000-08:002023-12-09T05:24:03.905-08:00<p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>MEMORIES OF St. Agnes, Church of England 1948 - 1975<br /></b></span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCiaLy9maa7MWVHfufHRjGo9zLUJdW7mf1XiJDzm_6xtCXoJbCATeMlH5M-JEgHV8EcaqlllY_WL6ILCrMyvQI_paTsc6gOk7NtaETq002vZtiRAZY_uFQkGf4Bn2dFVkC3mtVoyve00aa92libYjz7b2_3WkhpmJVF9mZ4TV7Tl-aIYLNSmFhr1qd9hI/s883/H&GHS-St-Agnes-Bell-Tower-1975-Blogger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="580" data-original-width="883" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCiaLy9maa7MWVHfufHRjGo9zLUJdW7mf1XiJDzm_6xtCXoJbCATeMlH5M-JEgHV8EcaqlllY_WL6ILCrMyvQI_paTsc6gOk7NtaETq002vZtiRAZY_uFQkGf4Bn2dFVkC3mtVoyve00aa92libYjz7b2_3WkhpmJVF9mZ4TV7Tl-aIYLNSmFhr1qd9hI/s320/H&GHS-St-Agnes-Bell-Tower-1975-Blogger.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">St. Agnes Church of England, Military Road, Grange 1975</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: arial;">For the first 24 years of my life, I lived at 620 (later 536) Seaview Rd., Grange, South Australia. The house frontage was on Henley Beach Road, and was originally built on a sandhill (approx. 1913, it was the home of my Great Grandmother (Mrs. W.R. Lill), and later, from approximately 1937, was my Grandparents' home (Mr. & Mrs. F.W.R. Lill), and still later it became the home of my mother and father (Mr. & Mrs. H.W. Capon). The land was elevated from Seaview Road, but ran down to the 'flat' land on Military Road, with enough flat land to have a car Garage with lean-to tool shed/workshop.<br /><br />I attended the church and Sunday School classes until my early teens on a regular basis. I went by myself as no one else in our household was 'Church of England', and iit was just a short distance to go, with my 'thrupence' (3d) coin as a church offering, tied up in a handkerchief for safe keeping. The photo is from the top of our top back yard, looking towards St. Agnes. <br /><br />I received many awards at Christmas - books with inscription for 'Good Attendance'. I'm not sure how I came to become so closely connected. The hall was used extensively by many in the local community, as cars were still not owned by many, women drivers were a rarity. My backyard was a place where I could watch the church happenings. Weddings were frequent, often with receptions held in the hall. I loved seeing the multicoloured dots of paper confetti mixed in with the gravel outside the hall. But that wasn't the only thing that I discovered about the gravel. I would go there after functions, when all had left, and with keen eyesight, I found so many coins that had been dropped, and I became quite a scavenger. It never occurred to me that I should find a way to return these coins, instead I'd head to either my local store nearby on Beach Street, or to Kirkcaldy Rd (now Grange Rd), and chocolate was my sweet of choice - 2 shillings for a large block - bullets were 8 for a penny in the early 60s, I can remember that. <br /><br />Many of the functions of the Hall were for gatherings, meetings, but I mostly remember exercise and dance groups. We would use hula hoops and beanbags to help with exercising. I know when I was around 5 I was part of a troop of dancers who went on to dance in the Adelaide Town Hall, and fairly certain it was a dance group from the hall. I remember the dress being especially made for me. But the wings and the star for my wand and hair and wings were made at home. My Dad mainly doing it, with me 'helping'. It was light pink in colour, with soft pink tulle and sequins. I still remember Dad drawing a star using a set square to check the angles, before cutting the shape, and then we used silver foil (the uncoloured sides from Easter egg wrappings) to cover them (for headdress, and fairy wand, adding elastic cord. To me it was amazing that my Dad was so clever to make such things. The wings came from wire coat hangers - another amazing transformation, covered with tulle and more sequins. I found the Adelaide Town Hall to be exciting fun, but that is about all I remember - other than the fuss about having eyebrows drawn on and lipstick on my lips, and not enjoying that at all!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhHavQ1uNklyEiJUEebEn0cy2eCdTIQqNDJuO5rftPX61OsPogWriB7fj7bT8lP-F0UsguvlNP-6n3CrI-Gh3bHWJoZNztPyFBdeedZdadxw16k1A0X0iyLiRPBC8RXjejFOxaXAoKAoTaRD8MRwyZrr9h4fJ5Hi6IURzZaH1OyGxLTmjIVGhStwQp391w" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="774" data-original-width="468" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhHavQ1uNklyEiJUEebEn0cy2eCdTIQqNDJuO5rftPX61OsPogWriB7fj7bT8lP-F0UsguvlNP-6n3CrI-Gh3bHWJoZNztPyFBdeedZdadxw16k1A0X0iyLiRPBC8RXjejFOxaXAoKAoTaRD8MRwyZrr9h4fJ5Hi6IURzZaH1OyGxLTmjIVGhStwQp391w" width="145" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">My father had a black FJ Holden, and owned the Henley & Grange Cab Co., operating from Ramsgate Hotel and Grange Hotel cab sites. He would often be the driver for married couples at the church. I would 'help' him with preparing it - cleaning it inside and out, and loved most of all attaching the white satin ribbon that went from the front windows to the hood ornament in a V. Wedding receptions were just one of so many events and happenings in the hall, it was also used for Sunday School classes. When Grange Primary (Public) school buildings burnt down, in the mid 1950s, some classes were held in this hall, and also some school meetings, too.<br /><br />As a church member I remember with surprise being chosen for the choir, to this day, I'll never know why, as I really can't sing, so I often say that I lost this ability when I stopped going to church there. I was much more fascinated by the pipe organ. I was already an aspiring pianist, a student of Miss Jacka in Henley Beach, just off Main St.. I can remember Brian Wheatly (sp?) who was very good on the organ. I also enjoyed Palm Sunday, as we would have great cut-off palm fronds to wave around. <br /><br />I greatly admired the rector, Phillip Smith. He lived in a newly built house behind the church. I remember he had a daughter Penny, I believe? Reverend Smith always had time for me it seemed. I told him of my dreams of being an artist, and he even bought me some large sheets of cartridge paper on which I drew bible scenes in lead pencil. I was also fascinated with old fonts, and would practice lettering same as I'd see in the older bibles. By chance I happened to run into him at an event where I was working - either in the West Parklands, or at Apollo Stadium, Richmond (1971-2?). I don't know whether to trust my memory or not, but seems he surprised me by telling me he was living in the USA. I worked for Rigby's book publishers at the time and he told me of some poetry he'd written, and was looking for a publisher. I was sent a copy of his poems, but I was unable to do anything, and still had his writings, until recently, and may still have them. I had told him I was doing freelance work (art/screen advertising) for Val Morgans at that time and how he had encouraged me as a child to follow my dreams for doing and pursuing art, and that delighted him, that he had inspired me. <br /><br />On Sundays, while the main congregation would remain in church, the children would go to the hall for classes. Mostly it was hearing a bible story, then everyone would draw a scene from the story, or we were given printed scenes of same to colour in. However, at the time, if you became a teen, the classes was no longer available - I think there were evening classes instead and I wasn't allowed to attend those. So I was automatically 'promoted' to 'teacher' and assigned a class. That's when my relationship with the church changed. I didn't want to teach, but ended up doing so, anyway. I was assigned a class of boys only a year or two younger than myself. We were assigned a room in the back of the hall. If there was an event scheduled for the hall, the room had wooden crates of soft drinks stored in them, stacked up. In classes the boys seemed eager to learn, and would call me over to get me to look closely at their work, or discuss something. It wasn't until I was called in to answer for the empty drink bottles in the classroom I learnt all about the rouse of distracting me. The boys would come prepared - armed with bottle openers (usually attached to pocket knives), and straws. They would pop the lid off, and put a straw in, and then drink away, with me distracted elsewhere. <br /><br />Thinking I was clued up on the 'naughty' boys. I became more involved in getting them to draw while I told bible stories. Again, I learnt quite a lesson. The boys seemingly busy with their drawings illustrating the story I was reading out and discussing. When it was time to go, they left quite quickly, and I was left to clean up. I was pleased that they seemed really engrossed in the bible stories. But then I gathered up the papers, and I was in for quite a shock. They had indeed illustrated the stories, but the people in the drawings were all naked!<br /><br />It wasn't too long after that, Mum took me to town, and I got my first pair of stockings, with a seam up the back, and a tight skirt and some 'high' heels, that weren't too high. And so with my grown-up looks, I thought were great, I went to church. Classes were seated at the front of the congregation, My class of boys were in the front rows. For some reason I was late getting there, with a full church. As I walked down the aisle for some reason one of the boys looked around and saw me coming, and in a few seconds, it seems like all the boys had turned around, and one after another, until there was a chorus, they filled the church with full-on wolf whistles. I got about 1/2 way down the aisle. It was just one step too far. I turned around and went home, and believe that was the last time I attended. <br /><br />The church bell at St. Agnes was always rung on Sunday mornings to signal a call to the service to be conducted. The bell tower (green arrow in top photo) had and enclosed 'room' at the bottom of it. The rector would unlock/unbolt it to enter, as a rope would dangle down into a hole in the top of this room, so the bell could be rung. It was a secure way of stopping anyone from ringing the bell as a lark. <br /><br />As a teen I became quite aware of trying to be grown-up and tried to emulate Hollywood actresses, wearing the latest in bikini swimwear. I'd sunbathe at the top of our yard - about where the photo above was taken. While used to the bell ringing on Sunday mornings if the bell rang at other times, it would gain attention by those in homes nearby. So we would go try to see what was happening. It took me a while to figure out that some of the local boys I knew, were gathering the gravel from out front of the hall, and aiming at the bell, to 'ring' it, just so that I'd stand up in bikini. <br /><br />I still have fond memories of St Agnes. I loved its stained glass windows, and that, as a child, I was encouraged to follow my dreams. And still grateful that the rector was interested enough in my art to make me feel like I wasn't just wasting my time. </div></div></span><p></p>Just Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06081081064682774708noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574427357388828743.post-533590089187559262023-11-15T18:24:00.000-08:002023-11-15T18:34:29.146-08:00Carnivals, Pole Sitters, Circuses & more - All part of Henley Beach the 1950s<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMEoemLv3FYYQ4WkdDmwkTToPiu2vHyCTg-fKjjcN6GBACOD3Dv6B8P45iYFYVO23h-dO0onzCPuFofkFXOKIMmsi3cIGXJ-9m9GjXYbMNm6G7E74KUu9PgHvuB6NEN87kM4OF2BfB1STo1a-6dYEZFcJnLizb1w_s3QvbnwEfgH967Gkf6HqjUUaGDys/s1392/Screen%20Shot%202023-11-16%20at%2011.36.07%20am.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="866" data-original-width="1392" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMEoemLv3FYYQ4WkdDmwkTToPiu2vHyCTg-fKjjcN6GBACOD3Dv6B8P45iYFYVO23h-dO0onzCPuFofkFXOKIMmsi3cIGXJ-9m9GjXYbMNm6G7E74KUu9PgHvuB6NEN87kM4OF2BfB1STo1a-6dYEZFcJnLizb1w_s3QvbnwEfgH967Gkf6HqjUUaGDys/s320/Screen%20Shot%202023-11-16%20at%2011.36.07%20am.png" width="320" /></a></div><br />The residents of Henley & Grange always loved summer, when the streets came alive with people - my memories are from 1950s, 60s and 70s mostly.<br /><br />My grandmother on Seaview Road, Grange would sit on our front verandah (there is a photo of her doing this in one of my old blog posts), watching the hoards of cars from inner city suburbs fill every available parking spots on Seaview Road, and any parking spot within 'cooee' of the beach. Many unloaded inflatable beach toys, tents, umbrellas, beach balls, radios, food & drinks, towels and more, where, in winter, barely a car would be seen.<br /><br />But also, summer bought carnivals and other fun things. Not only in the major beach suburbs such as Brighton, Glenelg, Semaphore (plus nearby, Port Adelaide), but also Henley (Beach) and Grange. The carnival was always popular, and even the 20 minute walk from Grange was exciting - the closer you neared the 'Henley Square' you could hear the squeals and laughter, with all kinds of sounds, music, pops, and bangs, and more. And the smells! The first to hit my nose was that of fairy floss (cotton candy if you're from USA). And that was always a favourite with me. And further along were the smells of the fried foods, and more.<br /><br />And there was never any disappointment. Something always was new. The pool (billiards) hall always did good business, sited on the northside, between the shop on the Esplanade, and my favourite Fish & Chip shop on Seaview Road. <br /><br />As a child I could never understand the Pole Sitters. Who would do such a thing? Sit on top of a pole for several days all for the sake of winning a meagre amount of pounds ($). I guess mainly my child's brain couldn't get past my concern of adequate/convenient bathroom usage. Also remembered one of the most popular times when something new was added. When all my boy school mates from Henley High School sought to outdo each other. Paying all of their pocket money into smashing an old 'jalopy' (car) to unrecognisable junk with a huge sledge hammer!<br /><br />There were often beauty and fancy dress competitions, even eating contests (most pies eaten in 10 minutes, e.g.), best decorated bike/tricycle, and celebrity visits. Squeals and shrieks rang out from the side show rides, as well as announcements re 'lost' children. over loud speakers. Sounds that would echo through the streets until late in the night.<br /><br />I and, I think, everyone looked forward to summer carnivals as it was a way, like no other, to have so much fun and laughter and break away from the bleaker days of winter. Many of the carnival goers were families from Broken Hill (employees who worked the Broken Hill Mines) who rented the many rental properties available in Henley and also Grange and other major beachside suburbs, as the children loved the carnivals and in some ways I think their joy and laughter surpassed that of the locals.<br /><br />While the carnivals still continue, it is rare to see the same exuberance 'today', I think one just had to be in it, to now know that. <br /><br />Another memory of 'fun' times comes from when I was very young, I'd say no more than 5 or so. And that is of a circus tent the on the strip of vacant land on Cudmore Terrace, close to Main St area, than Grange Road. I remember being scared, not only of the animals, but also of the clowns as I hadn't encountered such strange beings before. But many things thrilled me about it. I think I can remember asking why nothing was built on the land, and being told that it was being reserved to use as a train line to Henley Beach, and possibly on to Glenelg and was 'public land'. So, I'm wondering if any other local children remember these?<br /><br />The Henley & Grange Town Hall was another place of community spirit, I'll write of some of that another time. Their 100th anniversary was just last Friday. <br /><br />The break in my blog postings was due to some complications in life, and also forgetting I even had written these, as other things filled my life. I still have a great many stories to tell. So hope to share more soon. This one was prompted by rediscovery of this blog through H&GHS and members telling me how much they enjoyed reading my stories, and being sent a link to it, and some 3-4 days of trying to reaccess it through forgotten formats and user names and passwords. Never give up!!! <br /><br />Thank you for visiting. Much appreciated.<p></p>Just Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06081081064682774708noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574427357388828743.post-20804350275058481272017-03-13T04:27:00.002-07:002017-03-13T04:27:26.704-07:00About me - working for Val Morgan's and three other Adelaide women artists - 1960s 1970s<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="dciis" data-offset-key="8qs8h-0-0">
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<span data-offset-key="8qs8h-0-0"><span data-text="true">A 'forgotten' art.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="9r9jg-0-0"><span data-text="true">Remembering 3 women artists from South Australia.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="bq8qe-0-0"><span data-text="true">Chasing my memories, and finding out things that have a 'wow' factor.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="8i1h4-0-0"><span data-text="true">In my late teens I went to a 'commercial art' course for one term at Norwood Technical Collage. It meant a long travel by bus from Grange. But was the closest that I imagined having a career in art my teacher was Marjorie Hann. </span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="fs9iv-0-0"><span data-text="true">She was in her 50s and already a noted artist in many ways. I never imagined that this choice would lead me in to a unique part-time job doing 'commercial art'.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="bod57-0-0"><span data-text="true">She was needing someone to fill in for her while she went on vacation, and chose to put my name forward, and I was accepted. $2 an hour seemed like a fortune at the time.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="502ou-0-0"><span data-text="true">Because of the uniqueness of the position, I was mentored by her and her best friend - Vanessa Smith. They knew each other affectionately as 'Fish and Lamb(e)' - they had met at the Adelaide School of Art, and were firm friends right up until Vanessa's death in the early 2000s, living just one street away from each other. </span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="aasbv-0-0"><span data-text="true">Vanessa was an incredible artist, and known for her own expertise - as a glass artist and considered the best of the best. Both were watercolourists, which is where some of my charm of watercolour comes from (other than from Sir Hans Heysen, whom my grandfather sat next to in Primary school in Norwood/Maylands in the late 1800s.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="f5ssm-0-0"><span data-text="true">While I loved his art, as it was on every school room or government building wall, the fact that grandpa knew him, and loved getting the Christmas cards from him in some of my early years.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="3ku55-0-0"><span data-text="true">Marjorie is known well enough to be on Wikipedia:</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="carg2-0-0"><span data-text="true">https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marjorie_Hann</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="c32l7-0-0"><span data-text="true">I couldn't find much on Vanessa, and was asked by Marjorie at one stage to write Vanessa's story, as she believed her stained glass designs and work to be truly exceptional. Her work is acclaimed as treasures.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="2l7vc-0-0"><span data-text="true">http://www.samemory.sa.gov.au/site/page.cfm?c=1497&mode=singleImage</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="27hlg-0-0"><span data-text="true">The third artist I worked with is/was Jenny Gore. I 'found' her today. I knew she had become an enamel artist due to her effort in winning an exhibition I was part of organising in Salisbury in the 1980s. While not totally surprised, I see she was awarded an Order of Australia Medal - for her extraordinary enamel artwork.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="f19it-0-0"><span data-text="true">http://www.jennygoreenamel.com.au/index.html</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="e7b5d-0-0"><span data-text="true">So the fact that 4 of us worked together almost makes me pinch myself. Incredible! While we were part-time and worked from home, we crossed paths and I kept in close contact specifically with Marjorie and Vanessa. We always exchanged Christmas cards, through the years.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="6jjj9-0-0"><span data-text="true">Where did we work?</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="7tae6-0-0"><span data-text="true">Val Morgan's - theatre advertising. Most were for drive-ins. I loved the work, and did it for 2 years before leaving Australian Shores for England.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="9a9e8-0-0"><span data-text="true">Quite a unique process. Long gone now. </span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="2h1p4-0-0"><span data-text="true">Here is a 'colour rough'/'submit' which we would do based on a clients requirements - submitted to client for approval prior to doing the final art, from that time. I have 9 of these. I'll talk more about the process in later posts.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="1omhv-0-0"><span data-text="true">Just amazed that this was all part of my life.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="b8tp7-0-0"><span data-text="true">More to come ...</span></span><br />
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Just Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06081081064682774708noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574427357388828743.post-73149916936136930152017-03-13T02:27:00.000-07:002017-03-13T02:27:05.797-07:00About me - My art aspirations - Grange Primary School, Henley High School 1950s 1960s<div data-contents="true">
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="7euoe" data-offset-key="b1kgt-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="b1kgt-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="b1kgt-0-0"><span data-text="true">Cleaning out cupboards certainly bring back memories. So it's story-telling time.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="7euoe" data-offset-key="gsni-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="gsni-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="gsni-0-0"><span data-text="true">I've always been an artist.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="7euoe" data-offset-key="29ken-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="29ken-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="29ken-0-0"><span data-text="true">I attended Elizabeth O'Grady Kindergarten in Grange, South Australia from about age 3 until 5. I most enjoyed poetry and listening to books being read and showed the illustrations. But the main fascination was with the finger paints (powder mixed with water), where we stood in front of an easel and painted. For me, the feeling of 'belonging' was so overwhelming.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="7euoe" data-offset-key="54bj6-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="54bj6-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="54bj6-0-0"><span data-text="true">I also remember the shock when my art was called out as an example, and hung in pride of place. From memory I was the one who did not do 'stick figures'.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="7euoe" data-offset-key="5t9s7-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="5t9s7-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="5t9s7-0-0"><span data-text="true">From Kindergarten I went on to Grange Primary School (7 years - until age 12). For a while the most art we did was in geography - where we used the flat side of a 'lead' (graphite) pencil, to smear over the back of a parchment (cooking) sheet, then trace maps into our books. I hated the mess. So hid the fact that I didn't do this - I hand-drew my maps instead - and the teacher never seemed to know the difference. </span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="7euoe" data-offset-key="2vi9c-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="2vi9c-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="2vi9c-0-0"><span data-text="true">A big influence was a teacher named Mrs. Churchill. She really cared about teaching us to draw. And I found it fascinating. And draw I did! Pencil and biro (ball-point pen). I had a great many drawings, often doing them in classes when I should be doing something else. Or at home, on my stomach in the living room in front of the radio (big cabinet and yes, we would look at it when on!). I loved coloured pencils, rulers, rubbers (erasers), and collected as many as I could.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="7euoe" data-offset-key="76r3j-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="76r3j-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="76r3j-0-0"><span data-text="true">Then devastation struck. Mrs Churchill died 'unexpectedly'.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="7euoe" data-offset-key="1utbv-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="1utbv-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="1utbv-0-0"><span data-text="true">And - our classrooms burned down in a fire. I lost all my drawings, and supplies.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="7euoe" data-offset-key="694er-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="694er-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="694er-0-0"><span data-text="true">We had to fill out insurance forms. I had my losses questioned. It seems that 12 rulers, 124 coloured pencils, etc. was not the 'norm'. I'd only counted them the day before and we used to sit 2 to a desk, so fortunately my desk-sharer could vouch for me. </span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="7euoe" data-offset-key="27hfi-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="27hfi-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="27hfi-0-0"><span data-text="true">I lost heart for a long while. I was in grade 5 at the time, I think. But then became fascinated with mapping pens - very fine nibbed pens. I think up until that time we were still using inkwells and nibbed pens to write with. i think in grade 3 we changed to fountain pens, which I still love. While biros existed, they weren't allowed to be used in school for a while, because of the mess they made when they leaked (if you have clothes ruined with this ink - use hairspray! I didn't find this out for decades!)</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="7euoe" data-offset-key="enquj-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="enquj-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="enquj-0-0"><span data-text="true">I drew a lot in Sunday school at St. Agnes, in Grange. The rector at the time encouraged me - and I loved the church architecture (1800s), the stained glass windows and more at the time. So a lot of what I drew were religious scenes. I started to see a future in art when I drew a crucifix scene, and a school pal offered me a shilling (1/- - 10 Au cents), and after I got over the shock, agreed, only to get orders from 3 other children! I probably was around 10 years old?</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="7euoe" data-offset-key="6ir6k-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="6ir6k-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="6ir6k-0-0"><span data-text="true">When I was asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, my choices would include 'artist' even though, to me, it wasn't an occupation. Then I learnt that a 'commercial' artist was an occupation. So said that.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="7euoe" data-offset-key="7oh5h-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="7oh5h-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="7oh5h-0-0"><span data-text="true">At age 12 I graduated through to High School (Henley High School, Henley Beach - a new school - perfect for baby boomers! post-war boom!). Graduation for most was 3 years (Intermediate Certificate), 4 for skills to get into things like Nursing School, and 5 years before graduating to University for professions like becoming a doctor, scientist, etc.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="7euoe" data-offset-key="6fe2v-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="6fe2v-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="6fe2v-0-0"><span data-text="true">To my amazement you got to choose which subjects you wanted to take - between 'boy' subjects, and 'girl' subjects. Reading over the list, the only course for 'Art' was in the 'boy' list. Yup. Got my parents to sign so I could do that.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="7euoe" data-offset-key="eqa3m-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="eqa3m-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="eqa3m-0-0"><span data-text="true">Maths I, Maths II, Science (later became Physics, Chemistry), Latin, English, Home Economics (wasn't allowed to do woodwork), and Art. </span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="7euoe" data-offset-key="c5foo-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="c5foo-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="c5foo-0-0"><span data-text="true">Girls did Bookkeeping, Typing, English, Basic Maths, Home Economics, and Dictation/Secretarial, I think.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="7euoe" data-offset-key="e870u-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="e870u-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="e870u-0-0"><span data-text="true">SO glad I got to do boy's subjects! I wouldn't have survived the 'girl's' subjects!</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="7euoe" data-offset-key="2v1ns-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="2v1ns-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="2v1ns-0-0"><span data-text="true">I was expecting Art to teach how to do art. But it turned out to be 'commercial' art - lettering, and more lettering (sign-writers were in demand!), design, and history of art. Our classes were about 50 kids - of these 45 were boys. Art was a low-demand class so only had 5-10 kids. I was the only girl.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="7euoe" data-offset-key="a5lpv-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="a5lpv-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="a5lpv-0-0"><span data-text="true">We had a young teacher who was often absent with illness, and an older European woman (Mrs Tornoff?) who knew a lot about artists (history of art). What was strange was with absences, I would take over the teaching aspect of the class from time to time.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="7euoe" data-offset-key="5ip2e-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="5ip2e-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="5ip2e-0-0"><span data-text="true">I had decided to leave school with my Intermediate Certificate - I wanted to go to the Adelaide School of Art in North Adelaide, which was the thing to do at the time. My education books and such were paid for by the Repat (Repatriation Department, due to my father being T.P.I. - Totally and Permanently Incapacitated due to contracting T.B. during WWII), so I presumed they would pay for art studies.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="7euoe" data-offset-key="8re9k-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="8re9k-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="8re9k-0-0"><span data-text="true">I sat for my Intermediate exams. Our art exams were not marked by our teachers, they were actually sent to the Art School in North Adelaide.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="7euoe" data-offset-key="7okmv-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="7okmv-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="7okmv-0-0"><span data-text="true">My art teacher came to me after the exam, and told me that I had done the worst work she had ever seen me do. I was nervous, and it probably was.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="7euoe" data-offset-key="9cr6d-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="9cr6d-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="9cr6d-0-0"><span data-text="true">The results would come out in the newspapers. (The Advertiser). We would know when they were being released, and go into the city and wait in laneway outside the newspaper office, to grab them hot off the presses to see our results. Very emotional. Some crying because they passed, others crying because they didn't. Way past our regular bedtime.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="7euoe" data-offset-key="ag9kt-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="ag9kt-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="ag9kt-0-0"><span data-text="true">I was astounded to find I'd gained an 'A' - the very top grade available (95%-100%)!</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="7euoe" data-offset-key="45qfd-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="45qfd-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="45qfd-0-0"><span data-text="true">This actually was a 'pass' to get into the School of Art at the time. Like a 'diploma'.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="7euoe" data-offset-key="fac7g-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="fac7g-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="fac7g-0-0"><span data-text="true">But therein was a problem. My parents didn't see art as an appropriate occupation, and my father's condition was deteriorating - and then there was the Repat. </span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="7euoe" data-offset-key="cb3c9-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="cb3c9-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="cb3c9-0-0"><span data-text="true">They had to approve.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="7euoe" data-offset-key="bphdh-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="bphdh-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="bphdh-0-0"><span data-text="true">I remember very clearly ... going to the city, being in a dark room with 7 men, sitting at the end of the table, while they questioned me. Quite intimidating to 15/16 year-old me! </span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="7euoe" data-offset-key="94jia-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="94jia-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="94jia-0-0"><span data-text="true">And they made me feel stupid and bad for wanting to do art. They proposed to me that since my grades in other subjects were good, I should continue on at school.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="7euoe" data-offset-key="2useu-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="2useu-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="2useu-0-0"><span data-text="true">But with my Dad's T.B. progressing I only stayed at High school another 6 months. He would scour the newspaper each day for jobs, and he found one I applied for and left.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="7euoe" data-offset-key="bi52n-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="bi52n-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="bi52n-0-0"><span data-text="true">I never received the schooling or art degrees I needed to get jobs or progress with my art. </span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="7euoe" data-offset-key="2jkqn-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="2jkqn-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="2jkqn-0-0"><span data-text="true">But still I did much, all in my own way, and still love graphic (commercial-type) art.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="7euoe" data-offset-key="c5ot0-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="c5ot0-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="c5ot0-0-0"><span data-text="true">But have always found myself feeling like a 'lesser' artist through not having gained a degree or certificates.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="7euoe" data-offset-key="6o1s7-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="6o1s7-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="6o1s7-0-0"><span data-text="true">In rather astounding ways at times.</span></span><span data-offset-key="7uajr-0-0"><span data-text="true">I'll share more with you soon ...<br /><br />This
drawing done with mapping pen is from when I was 11 or 12, no older. I
signed it, and my signature changed when I was 12. It's not accurate, I
did it from a blurry newspaper photo.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="7euoe" data-offset-key="7uajr-0-0">
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<span data-offset-key="7uajr-0-0"><span data-text="true"><br /></span></span></div>
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Just Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06081081064682774708noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574427357388828743.post-60415156701901587342016-08-04T05:33:00.000-07:002016-08-04T05:55:11.447-07:00My Dad. WWII soldier. Harold William Capon<style>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">Can I tell you a
story? I was thinking about discrimination, and how horrid it is. I’m sure all of
us have been subjected to us all at one time or another. For some it is a
constant happening and common place, to some, it’s rarely thought about. But it
does unbelievable damage to so many.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">Even age
discrimination can have a lasting effect. Yet is is barely considered at times,
but this was the first type that came to mind. I can always remember my dismay
at seeing signs ‘Children under 12 years of age not admitted to wards’ on doors
of the Daws Road Repatriation (service members - VA) hospital (‘repat’) in the
50s.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">My Dad contracted TB
in Middle East during WWII and very much of my life was spent being told ‘Your
Dad’s gone to hospital, and might never come home’. Sometimes it was short
times, sometimes a long time. Visiting hospital was a farce for me, as I was
banned. Goodness only knows why. But also I saw the effects of war, even though
a decade or more gone, by peeking through windows (as a child will do, of
course). And while I tried to peek through to see my Dad, I never found him, no
matter how many windows I peeked through.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Dad came home each of these times, despite me not being able to visit
with him, and see him. I loved him very much.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">I was left
unsupervised, as kids often were. I found other kids to play with at times, and
grew intimate with the old buildings with remnants all around from WWII. I
loved the beautiful gardens. They even gave me comfort in 2001 as my Mother lay
dying – looking at wonderful lavender outside her window.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">But over an above that
it bought a unique view to a child. The soldiers that were well enough would
often sit outside. Many smoked hand-rolled cigarettes, held in boney, shaky
hands, stained yellow/brown. They usually sat with elbows on knees, looking
down. Lost in thoughts. I talked to many of them. While they didn’t talk of
war, they did talk of coming home to lives lost, how ‘mateship’ was what got
them through. Many had nicknames, bestowed in the trenches, and they would
quote them with glee. My Dad was ‘Al’ (Capone), as his last name was Capon (no
e). Some of them even taught me how to roll cigarettes, or how to fill pipes.
But I don’t remember them smiling very much, unless it was to speak of their
fellow servicemen.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">So while I was
anxiously waiting for the age of 12 to arrive and annoyed at the
‘discrimination’, I certainly learnt a lot. I don’t like war. I don’t think it
fixes anything much at all. I do have the greatest of respect for those that
serve in their country’s military. So many don’t, or can’t, or wouldn’t think
of it. I learnt that mateship can help one survive almost anything (practice
love, don’t hate!). </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">My father died when I
was 18. He was given a military funeral, and even today I can’t bear to hear
‘taps’ played on the bugle, without crying my heart out.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">For a while I thought
I might join the Air Force. I can’t remember why I didn’t. Whether height
restriction, or the fact that I would have been too much of a rebel against
such rigid rules. So perhaps it is even stranger that at 24 I left London to go
work for the USAF in Germany. It was still the ‘Vietnam era’. Cold war, and all
that kind of stuff. Sure, a lot of crap goes on (heck, I belonged to a
motorcycle gang at the time so saw a lot of ‘off base’ stuff going on), but also,
even as a ‘third national’ I knew that I might even have to possible fight for
my life should the air base be attacked. I again gave respect for all the
servicemen that served as a service to their country. I worked to make things
better, and re-wrote USAF manuals, and helped sort out computer stuff – some relating
to first intercontinental links (early internet days). And married the man who
walked up to me on my first day of work and introduced himself, then got off
work early just so he could offer me a lift home. He surprised me, coming up to
my bus stop with such a wide grin on his face … under his motorcycle helmet …
how could I say no? (Turned out not the best idea to say yes, as my mini skirt
was not the best to try to mount the back of a 750 Honda, with ‘sissy bar’ –
lol.)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">So while this may not
sound like it is about discrimination, it still is. And even though so many
good things came from it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still
don’t understand why I couldn’t go in to the wards to see my Dad. 12 years. </span><span lang="EN-US">That seemed like forever in a child's eyes. </span><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">And any one of the many times he went in to the
Repat, being allowed in, might have been my only opportunity to see my Dad
before he died.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">Thank you for
reading/listening.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">~Jillian </span><br />
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">Photo: Mum & Dad, date unknown. Harold William Capon, born 26th December, 1908, Camberwell, London. Joyce Constance Capon (nee Lill) born 27th Ocober, 1912 South Australia. </span></div>
Just Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06081081064682774708noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574427357388828743.post-11162831897952974792015-06-07T09:00:00.001-07:002015-06-07T09:00:39.437-07:00WWII photos of Japanese from my Uncle's 'Darwin' photos.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPCJSfHKdUHDenbHrqD1hazLrRSYrZ2Qb2oSLA7QTEa8HrJaSkg_W5x4P13WUMYEmLaiD34Ezq4MvwA5-nXkQlubvB011D8k1Xq4I9zsumxnKb_exGhSkwEmcY__DNzuC8FkozARvAntM/s1600/WWII-Japanese-Darwin-img714.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPCJSfHKdUHDenbHrqD1hazLrRSYrZ2Qb2oSLA7QTEa8HrJaSkg_W5x4P13WUMYEmLaiD34Ezq4MvwA5-nXkQlubvB011D8k1Xq4I9zsumxnKb_exGhSkwEmcY__DNzuC8FkozARvAntM/s640/WWII-Japanese-Darwin-img714.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
There should be a law against NOT putting comments on the back of photos.<br />
<br />
This one is a total mystery.<br />
<br />
It is from my uncle's collection of photos - he was stationed in Darwin (N.T.) during WWII.<br />
(Walter Williamson - see wikipedia - footballer.)<br />
<br />
This photos I've only just now gotten around to scanning it. It's tiny. About 2.25 long by about 1.25 high.<br />
<br />
I was totally amazed to see that it was of Japanese soldiers. I remember stories I was told when little. First of Uncle Wally not really being in WWII as he had a 'cushy' post up in Darwin. But later heard stories about bombings and Japanese. How much is memory, how much is fact, I don't know. I will share some of the stories, if someone is interested. I wrote to the war memorial people, but heard nothing back. I have quite a lot more photos of Darwin during WWII. I'll post when I get a chance.<br /><br />If anyone can shed any light on this one, I'd appreciate it. Thank you.Just Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06081081064682774708noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574427357388828743.post-65130946188233122042015-04-18T09:20:00.000-07:002015-04-18T09:22:53.217-07:00Grange Bowling Club - Speech by Mr Hughes (approx. 1923?)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHsSypuffk7pbVFBAUHdZcPULcbuKl0OCDmOzChpRLbEMmKuSH10cDsV-BS7eZ_Rcdj2UXpgG7dsrjkKOEJmxlcFTDfR58aXdTHAR15G9sVvs1GB7kF8HuPXEU_FMhZGlJDukr_vDJbPQ/s1600/708-GBC-speech-BLOGX.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHsSypuffk7pbVFBAUHdZcPULcbuKl0OCDmOzChpRLbEMmKuSH10cDsV-BS7eZ_Rcdj2UXpgG7dsrjkKOEJmxlcFTDfR58aXdTHAR15G9sVvs1GB7kF8HuPXEU_FMhZGlJDukr_vDJbPQ/s1600/708-GBC-speech-BLOGX.jpg" height="400" width="393" /></a></div>
This is from my Auntie Dulcie's album. I believe it to be around 1923, based on previous photo posted. Because of my mother's (Joyce) age. I also believe that my Grandpa (F.W. Lill / F.W.R. Lill) was president 1924 and vice-president 1925 due to some research in the 'trove' newspapers. I took some time to edit these old articles, and hopefully made it easier for those researching the GBC. It does have a list of most of the founders, and also some great photos. But it takes some looking.<br />
<br />
Auntie Dulcie was Dulcie Lill, married to Wally (Walter) Williamson - captain of West Torrens when they won premiers in the early 30s (1933?). He also played for the State and for a short time was with Hawthorn (Vic) FC. See Wikipedia.<br />
<br />
At first I thought the speech might be from the Prime Minister, but a Mr Hughes played a BIG part in the beginnings of the "Grange and Henley Beach Bowling Club" (later "Grange Bowling Club"), so he is probably the one who is making the speech, even though I don't specifically know who that might be from this photo. I believe I came across photos of Mr Hughes when researching. I have one more photo of this occasion. And will post it after scanning.<br />
<br />
I circled 2 people - Nan and Grandpa. I was able to tell by the clothes on Nan (previous blog photo), but also thought it looked like Grandpa, anyway. So they were obviously part of the 'official' party.<br />
<br />
I don't know when this building was demolished. But from my child brain, I seem to remember it. The kitchen upstairs, the dark wood floor that creaked so much, men smoking - pipes, cigars, and drinking. Women with urns, cakes, and constantly washing dishes in aprons. If anyone one knows the year it was demolished, I'd love that information, to see if my memories fit.Just Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06081081064682774708noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574427357388828743.post-57424149272530445622015-04-05T12:11:00.000-07:002015-04-05T15:35:49.852-07:00"Style" At Grange Bowling Club - 1920s - South Australia.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYh_Zmhh0alZ5k43SyAGDT-FaSbDFfw87AhKCUqpgL-dAsEZ7U1aRjf9vGGI9PEPMmfgl7oiNrpVQ_BQ9lzD1r377wdMjJDhZL8JhQT2QzteaxF5-_LhcWPAsX8rb91tOeXGFqTxglyOs/s1600/img708-GrangeBowlingClub-BL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYh_Zmhh0alZ5k43SyAGDT-FaSbDFfw87AhKCUqpgL-dAsEZ7U1aRjf9vGGI9PEPMmfgl7oiNrpVQ_BQ9lzD1r377wdMjJDhZL8JhQT2QzteaxF5-_LhcWPAsX8rb91tOeXGFqTxglyOs/s1600/img708-GrangeBowlingClub-BL.jpg" height="400" width="397" /></a></div>
Sharing a personal photo from the early 1920s at the Grange Bowling Club. (Please do not copy or use without seeking permission.)<br />
<br />
From the personal photo album of Dulcie Elizabeth Williamson (nee Lill), my aunt.<br />
<br />
The <b><u>woman in the middle </u></b>is my grandmother, who's home I grew up in, on Seaview Road. Mrs F. W. R. Lill - she and her daughters often helped with fund raising booths and are mentioned a lot in old newspapers. She is Florence Dulcie Lill. My grandfather was a lifetime member of the club.<br />
<br />
My mother (adoptive) is the child to the right, in the background. She is probably around 10 years old so that would make this photo approx. 1922? - Joyce Constance Lill - later Basford and Capon, born October 1912.<br />
<br />
I have scanned this in hi-res, and is delightful to see the 'youthful', freckled face of my grandmother (Nan), rather than the interesting face with 'cracks' in it. :)<br />
<br />
You can click on the image for a slightly larger view. Just Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06081081064682774708noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574427357388828743.post-40276425253063322382015-04-05T11:10:00.002-07:002015-04-05T11:11:38.021-07:00Old photo Wellington punt on River Murray, South Australia 1920s.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGscKL8j0KcLxUL7-c80F7Ubm4vgEljaOI44sX2HmLZkb0dtG5JUe8VhVF4PvvufNd_JSaABFm1_prhJad1k2qPnDKDMXH-Tn3rlZB3MnPLKvYWI5JxW0Okg_kIJkrFEPHhGKRujCY_QY/s1600/img707-Punt-Wellington-Phot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGscKL8j0KcLxUL7-c80F7Ubm4vgEljaOI44sX2HmLZkb0dtG5JUe8VhVF4PvvufNd_JSaABFm1_prhJad1k2qPnDKDMXH-Tn3rlZB3MnPLKvYWI5JxW0Okg_kIJkrFEPHhGKRujCY_QY/s1600/img707-Punt-Wellington-Phot.jpg" height="640" width="330" /></a></div>
I previously posted this on my blog here: <a href="http://bornin1948.blogspot.com/2013/01/old-photos-of-south-australia-early_26.html">http://bornin1948.blogspot.com/2013/01/old-photos-of-south-australia-early_26.html</a><br />
<br />
But did not include the buildings. I have a larger scan of this. Please do not use without permission. Please contact me. This is from an old photo album of Dulcie Elizabeth Williamson (nee Lill). I LOVE that the scan shows the 2 gentlemen on the punt.<br />
<br />
Clicking on the image will give a slightly larger view. Just Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06081081064682774708noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574427357388828743.post-38971843312920589062015-03-05T11:16:00.000-08:002015-03-05T11:16:36.494-08:00Summertime love in Grange, South Australia.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtTk8hSe5HW0EKBclRus7ZrbDwI4bv_p3stLclrz-FzCK5a7wpcffBSGDTpk9552Ka5qi4DsUZP82KKPLlR25X8VbA8VEqhCyFOGi6cO592pZQtiT6YTBIO63qcuAUIQPTk6XlgHlp6ew/s1600/Me-1950-Seaview-Rd-TBT-BlogX-FBX.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtTk8hSe5HW0EKBclRus7ZrbDwI4bv_p3stLclrz-FzCK5a7wpcffBSGDTpk9552Ka5qi4DsUZP82KKPLlR25X8VbA8VEqhCyFOGi6cO592pZQtiT6YTBIO63qcuAUIQPTk6XlgHlp6ew/s1600/Me-1950-Seaview-Rd-TBT-BlogX-FBX.jpg" height="400" width="270" /></a></div>
I love the beach. Specifically Grange beach - just a few minutes walk from my home on Seaview Rd (536 - changed from 620).<br />
This is from the backyard.<br />
Remember these cotton fabric bathers (swimsuits) - 'bubble' - with elastic - the bubbles would fill up with air.<br />
A dirty face. I'd probably been running through the garden sprinkler to cool off. Ever suspicious of the 'Brownie Box Camera', I've never been too pleased with cameras.<br />
Shows the house next door, to the south, and on the right - part of the 'greenhouse' - a planting shed. This deteriorated a bit - made of wood, grey in color. Was later demolished to make way for a free-standing 'sleepout' for my Dad.<br />
At this time, Grandpa was the gardener, and although aging, he keep a nice garden with orderly garden beds, and some vegetable gardens on the tiered layers going down the back yard to Military Road. He taught me lots about flowers, plants and seeds, I would follow him around, full of questions. He was very patient with me.<br />
Jill Capon, Jillian, Jillian Crider.Just Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06081081064682774708noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574427357388828743.post-25141969092196884392015-02-07T10:55:00.003-08:002015-02-07T10:55:16.364-08:00On a personal note: A Tribute to Our Four-Footed Friend, Wyatt.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwhRv-bbu7ER7oxh9HKy8UP18bDFqC0jeglgGGfSG9Oap5SqXiKPSLloEiSSJAo-OIJwG63uglePfHPbGtI1G_vcKvnxc8eLVApb_EARmWEDsUruNSNBlXShTPKbmPQnmKg4kVIBPRbrUQ/s1600/Wyatt-2015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwhRv-bbu7ER7oxh9HKy8UP18bDFqC0jeglgGGfSG9Oap5SqXiKPSLloEiSSJAo-OIJwG63uglePfHPbGtI1G_vcKvnxc8eLVApb_EARmWEDsUruNSNBlXShTPKbmPQnmKg4kVIBPRbrUQ/s1600/Wyatt-2015.jpg" height="320" width="264" /></a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Yesterday took an unexpected turn of events. Although Wyatt has had medical 'issues' since around Christmas, this really broad-sided us.<br />What was just a supposedly 'minor' vet visit for skin condition, expanded into an Xray with very unwelcome news, with a combination of 'issues'.<br />So, somewhere, Wyatt is now flying free and in peace. Much loved. And very much missed.<br />Thank you Wyatt, for all you gave to us.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">But unfortunately, for now, I'm heartbroken.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">~Jillian</span></div>
<br />Just Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06081081064682774708noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574427357388828743.post-74157183626192127782014-08-23T12:00:00.001-07:002014-08-23T12:18:52.121-07:00Photos of Adelaide in the 1950s.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBA1lOhu3ThcMaA1TlAP2hqSRISGW2aG_CsQYKBxbTpTp7kZ1SKvNw_Bo9tnSHrMLMzUiFUP_xbE797i6up2U0MS2QgJ7hpHTlWWJA0_PHBLTnypUsf7ifrdS73-09LeUJ-KRBW9IBNzQ/s1600/Screen+shot+2014-08-23+at+11.57.27+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBA1lOhu3ThcMaA1TlAP2hqSRISGW2aG_CsQYKBxbTpTp7kZ1SKvNw_Bo9tnSHrMLMzUiFUP_xbE797i6up2U0MS2QgJ7hpHTlWWJA0_PHBLTnypUsf7ifrdS73-09LeUJ-KRBW9IBNzQ/s1600/Screen+shot+2014-08-23+at+11.57.27+AM.png" height="400" width="351" /></a></div>
<br />
I ran across this website story while trying to find out what the event at the town hall might have been.<br />
<a href="http://www.adelaidenow.com.au/news/south-australia/photos-of-everyday-life-in-adelaide-in-the-1950s/story-fni6uo1m-1226983270157?nk=816965287d4502f2fdc1f44f44842c03">http://www.adelaidenow.com.au/news/south-australia/photos-of-everyday-life-in-adelaide-in-the-1950s/story-fni6uo1m-1226983270157?nk=816965287d4502f2fdc1f44f44842c03</a><br />
Wonderful old photos, and filled with memories. Sorry if not all can see them. Seems that you have a limited number of 'free' articles that you can read. :(<br />
It's one of the first references I've seen to the Koala zoo. It was in the parklands, a bit north of the zoo. It's there that I rode an elephant, I'm sure.<br />
I remember the city baths (swimming pool) but know that many avoided it because of catching something 'nasty'. How true that was, I don't know.<br />
I love the Royal show photos, was such an event. I loved everything about it. Show bags, Fairy Floss, sample size bottles, animals and more.<br />
Sunday drives with picnics, thermos of tea was a 'must have'. That first photo was like so many. So typical.<br />
Charlesworth nuts was a 'must' to visit each time one went to the city.<br />
And it's amazing to see how close some got to the Queen, when she visited.<br />
<br />Just Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06081081064682774708noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574427357388828743.post-80455703418897507952014-08-23T11:39:00.000-07:002014-08-23T11:39:31.779-07:00Page 4 of my miniatures - some are from South Australia.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyOf8hV0JaVQJ6Bd8bT12hsfuBjQZXcE3-XW-6fLiAR2atUTAvMOjKTuoeM3iq5gfqdpd0uL0Znm_iXLmzlFrbI_K_u-m-PKyIFL1QBhCm1RLJNHXoYadLbdQGc_86zyPHVKH0VjpS5lI8/s1600/M-031-040.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyOf8hV0JaVQJ6Bd8bT12hsfuBjQZXcE3-XW-6fLiAR2atUTAvMOjKTuoeM3iq5gfqdpd0uL0Znm_iXLmzlFrbI_K_u-m-PKyIFL1QBhCm1RLJNHXoYadLbdQGc_86zyPHVKH0VjpS5lI8/s1600/M-031-040.jpg" height="261" width="320" /></a></div>
<span class="userContent">The landscape is the Dry Creek wetlands, north of Adelaide, and the sunsets are local Adelaide, South Australia beaches. I'm doing an archive of all my art (no easy task). Currently working on my dollhouse miniatures. I'm up to page 4.<br /> This is a link to this page on my 'artistjillian' website:<br /> <a href="http://www.artistjillian.com/miniature-art-dh04" rel="nofollow nofollow" target="_blank">http://www.artistjillian.com/miniature-art-dh04</a><br /> Graphic shown above is a pictorial summary of the 10 original paintings on that page. The page includes painting details. All are 1:12 scale.<br /> Some of these were done for themed work for miniature enthusiasts (Paris/Tuscany) specifically for their dollhouses/room boxes.</span>Just Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06081081064682774708noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574427357388828743.post-55791615122702577972014-08-23T11:28:00.000-07:002014-08-23T11:33:24.674-07:00Dancing for the Mayor of the City of Adelaide - Adelaide Town Hall<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMQ2ByDzlEnJH5X0uKesh_ipDnz6cWAQNNuR091Ct1WtE_HdODjQlLH20HstKODqiQEdbj3Rg08QiF96QJgoMLXtTUP87f3E-4utWqa4rSsq8q8LEZuRzS3sKMUs2cVxEhZUHcx5tdhWs/s1600/TownHall-Me-fairy-FBXimg818.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMQ2ByDzlEnJH5X0uKesh_ipDnz6cWAQNNuR091Ct1WtE_HdODjQlLH20HstKODqiQEdbj3Rg08QiF96QJgoMLXtTUP87f3E-4utWqa4rSsq8q8LEZuRzS3sKMUs2cVxEhZUHcx5tdhWs/s1600/TownHall-Me-fairy-FBXimg818.jpg" height="400" width="252" /></a></div>
I think this is the first time I ever was in such a grand building. It was the Adelaide Town Hall. I'm not sure of the occasion, but there were a lot of us 'fairies'. I think I got to be there because of St. Agnes church in Grange, but not sure. They used to have dancing and calisthenics in the adjacent hall (as well as wedding receptions, sales, etc.).<br />
I know much preparation went into it. I don't know if the dress was hand made, but know the sequins were sewn on by hand. The fairy wings were coat hangers, shaped, and covered in tulle. With sequins sewn on it. The wand and headband with star was cut out carefully from cereal boxes to a pattern, then covered in foil. This was all a fascinating process to me, and I know I helped out.<br />
I don't remember much about the performance. The building was big, the curtains were deep red velvet and very heavy. It was cold. I had a heavy coat on over my costume. There seemed to be a lot of confusion, and a lot of kids. I know it was a very special occasion, but have no memories of what it was about. I do remember the audience being very enthusiastic in their applause. It was thunderous to me. I was only used to the meager clapping in local town hall and church halls in and around the Henley and Grange area.<br />I hated getting the eyebrows drawn on, and look so fake. I am sure I probably wasn't standing very still for it. I remember the lipstick, making 'cherub' peaks in the middle. It was bright red, and had to purse and contort my lips for this process. I never did take much to wearing lipstick, and never red or any dark colors. Though loved the shimmering pale pink lipstick I got for my 'big' thirteenth birthday when I was deemed to be a 'big' girl.<br />
I haven't marked the photo as copyright. But it is. Please don't use without my written permission. Thank you.Just Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06081081064682774708noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574427357388828743.post-19542083801555715322014-04-26T15:12:00.000-07:002014-04-26T15:12:39.629-07:00Page 2 of my miniature paintings - featuring some of South Australia<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb3ZXB5L-5pdUr28T1PswVXU7qtueM7OqJprD3FeYpfgsEePrcyvnebC8-M6ZTnfW8FnMcGkT1dFhER5weG037NFEeAvRmebPuwax6Gd1eoUuNpMC0BEaBEfya3SDhA7kTqB7501Jtee2y/s1600/M-011-020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb3ZXB5L-5pdUr28T1PswVXU7qtueM7OqJprD3FeYpfgsEePrcyvnebC8-M6ZTnfW8FnMcGkT1dFhER5weG037NFEeAvRmebPuwax6Gd1eoUuNpMC0BEaBEfya3SDhA7kTqB7501Jtee2y/s1600/M-011-020.jpg" height="261" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;">OK. Page 2.<br />The dogs were from about 2001 or 2002 - at the S.A. Canine grounds? By Grand Junction Road.<br />The yellow dinghy was Port Adelaide, and the sunset was Semaphore Jetty.<br />Below that is a Grange beach sunset, and next to that a stormy sea - winter at Maslins Beach.<br />The old gate is at a gallery in Port Wakefield. Don't know if it's still there - late 1990s - same street as the old abandoned railway station, I think. <br />The roses are a path in North Adelaide.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;">The 2 heritage homes are in North Adelaide. I think the top one was done by a noted architect.<br />Anyway - more to come.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;">My 'new' website is up and running in its correct place. Starting to put up inventory and stories behind my artworks.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;">This is page 2 of my 1:12 scale dollhouse miniatures.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;" /><a href="http://www.artistjillian.com/miniature-art-1-12-scale-page-2" rel="nofollow" style="background-color: white; color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31999969482422px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">http://www.artistjillian.com/miniature-art-1-12-scale-page-2</a><br style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;">You can see where my heart is. - Animals (dogs), gardens/old things, beach/ocean/sunsets, and houses, particularly old ones, both these are heritage homes. The first had animals (cats), birdlife, beaches, flowers/gardens, old things (buildings) and beaches. </span></span>Just Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06081081064682774708noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574427357388828743.post-43315961601518332282014-04-26T14:57:00.002-07:002014-04-26T15:05:21.535-07:00Perhaps a more personal look at 'me'. My artworks - many feature South Australia.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpamu30d-iX_WlJo8zZcjkv1rcjTZN6ZMLrWuaujtCKa1bxxu5EranlZhT3gLEV6vFbOLWqffzbbk-EDsas94dN92nEx-msGbmq_M5wFRbOGIZ9dfKz-8VkPO3Pu9saahfEvmbcOKB3-Le/s1600/M-001-010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpamu30d-iX_WlJo8zZcjkv1rcjTZN6ZMLrWuaujtCKa1bxxu5EranlZhT3gLEV6vFbOLWqffzbbk-EDsas94dN92nEx-msGbmq_M5wFRbOGIZ9dfKz-8VkPO3Pu9saahfEvmbcOKB3-Le/s1600/M-001-010.jpg" height="260" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Being so far away from Adelaide, I can't say - hey I did a painting of here. So you may recognise some of these places. <br />The top left - roses are from the rose garden at the Botanical Gardens in Adelaide - Kent Town.<br />The old ginger cat was at Kapunda Railway Station.<br />The pine cones on the table was at Riverton Railway Station.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The morning glories was on an old shed west of the Port Adelaide Sailing Club.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The rose bush was somewhere in North Adelaide.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The beach scene was at Henley South.<br />I am getting my art together, along with the stories behind the paintings. This is the first page - numbers 1-10 of my miniature paintings in 1:12 scale - meant primarily for dollhouses, roomboxes, etc.<br /><a href="http://www.artistjillian.com/miniature-art-1-12-scale-dollhouse">http://www.artistjillian.com/miniature-art-1-12-scale-dollhouse</a></span><br />
<br />Just Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06081081064682774708noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574427357388828743.post-32198164740609365972014-04-22T17:07:00.000-07:002014-04-22T17:07:46.700-07:00Alick Lill - Magarey Medalist<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIUJqCtAHR1Svg_TlXLlTmN69A1QBpuDs5kpFR2efgikkYizIeY6vBDYjt904acJh_o7GuBXsiCGnZMGFaovIvZ6ABszNLBmrz7ZH3ZdvFV3RmKvh7vzvQNbgZSMt_9Z4YSxl_o1-06FU/s1600/img346-600-FBX.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIUJqCtAHR1Svg_TlXLlTmN69A1QBpuDs5kpFR2efgikkYizIeY6vBDYjt904acJh_o7GuBXsiCGnZMGFaovIvZ6ABszNLBmrz7ZH3ZdvFV3RmKvh7vzvQNbgZSMt_9Z4YSxl_o1-06FU/s1600/img346-600-FBX.jpg" height="320" width="232" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
PHOTO: © Jillian Crider</div>
This is a photo I have just scanned of 'uncle' Alick. He was a Magarey Medalist when he played for Norwood Football Club. Some of his information can be found on Wikipedia - <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alick_Lill">HERE</a>.<br />This is just a small photo, probably taken with a 'Brownie' box camera. I think this is Darwin? during WWII. He signed the back of it. I think it was sent to Uncle Wally & Auntie Dulcie - see below.<br />
He was the father of John Lill, also known in the sports world. I always had fond memories of him. He was a bank manager for the South Australian Bank, and was well respected in that position, from what I understand.<br />
He was great 'mates' with my Uncle Wally (Walter Williamson). Also on Wikipedia - <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Walter_Williamson">HERE</a>. Who was also notable in the football world. He was captain of West Torrens when they won their premiership. The football was donated to the Football club - accepted by Bruce Lindsay (sp?) in the early 1980s. It had a silver shield with all the players names on it.<br />I can remember as a child, loving going to my Aunt's (Dulcie, wife of Uncle Wally) home in Jetty St., Grange, and the footballers would be there. A marquee was put up in the yard. Great fun was had by all!Just Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06081081064682774708noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574427357388828743.post-21906204640535218612014-02-22T19:33:00.000-08:002014-02-22T19:33:59.631-08:00"Texting" in school classrooms in the 'good old days'.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaEjFaJUww5x8lMe2ut0UPq4BgaxLtbcfBkG9_uhUI132DBy4_FF4HaojAmrdRnXHj1xT27YWqwih232GuUml_szzuW-iR_NtlH8Siy4Ggq6GmpIGyzB-4_dLktLdo8Xv0O-dqhcVRLyA/s1600/1899889_10152224573310827_192277411_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaEjFaJUww5x8lMe2ut0UPq4BgaxLtbcfBkG9_uhUI132DBy4_FF4HaojAmrdRnXHj1xT27YWqwih232GuUml_szzuW-iR_NtlH8Siy4Ggq6GmpIGyzB-4_dLktLdo8Xv0O-dqhcVRLyA/s1600/1899889_10152224573310827_192277411_n.jpg" height="221" width="320" /></a></div>
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This photo has been doing the rounds on social media websites (FB, etc.).<br />
<br />
It reminded me of my personal story:<br />
<br />
"<span class="userContent">For sure! In high school, I sat at the back of
the class. There was a knot hole in the floor boards, so I used to push
notes down into it, after reading them. One day I was in the school
yard with a girlfriend, and had the occasion to look <span class="text_exposed_show">under
the school buildings. (The buildings were 'transportables' - easy to
shift around as needed.) </span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="userContent"><span class="text_exposed_show">They were up on blocks and the underside was
boarded off with wood, but with spaces in between of a couple of inches,
to let air circulate under the rooms. (No airconditioning in rooms.)
She and I became engulfed in laughter - so much so, a teacher came to
find out what was going on. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="userContent"><span class="text_exposed_show">There was a HUGE 'pyramid' of paper under
the building. Probably 2-3' high and stretching over about 10 square
feet! All under the knot hole in my classroom. I wonder if this is still
so. What a story some of these notes might tell. Love you Henley High School."</span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
Just Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06081081064682774708noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574427357388828743.post-25136199839914660012014-02-22T19:28:00.002-08:002014-02-22T19:30:02.461-08:00The Movie "Cabaret" starring Liza Minnelli. 1972.<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".27.1:3:1:$comment10152009018623285_28522827:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".27.1:3:1:$comment10152009018623285_28522827:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".27.1:3:1:$comment10152009018623285_28522827:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.0"><span data-reactid=".27.1:3:1:$comment10152009018623285_28522827:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.0.$end:0:$0:0">A friend of mine was talking of Liza's powerful performance in the movie Cabaret.<br />This movie is very memorable movie in my life.</span></span></span></span><br />
September/October 1972 it was released in <span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".27.1:3:1:$comment10152009018623285_28522827:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".27.1:3:1:$comment10152009018623285_28522827:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".27.1:3:1:$comment10152009018623285_28522827:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.0"><span data-reactid=".27.1:3:1:$comment10152009018623285_28522827:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.0.$end:0:$0:0">Australia (at that time we usually had to wait 6 months for movies to filter through from the USA. </span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".27.1:3:1:$comment10152009018623285_28522827:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".27.1:3:1:$comment10152009018623285_28522827:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".27.1:3:1:$comment10152009018623285_28522827:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.0"><span data-reactid=".27.1:3:1:$comment10152009018623285_28522827:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.0.$end:0:$0:0">I was wanting to see it so badly, but was heading for London, so I was really
upset to miss it. Got on board the 747 and what was slated to play ...
Cabaret. </span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".27.1:3:1:$comment10152009018623285_28522827:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".27.1:3:1:$comment10152009018623285_28522827:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".27.1:3:1:$comment10152009018623285_28522827:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.0"><span data-reactid=".27.1:3:1:$comment10152009018623285_28522827:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.0.$end:0:$0:0">Joel Grey was extraordinary too</span></span><span data-reactid=".27.1:3:1:$comment10152009018623285_28522827:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".27.1:3:1:$comment10152009018623285_28522827:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".27.1:3:1:$comment10152009018623285_28522827:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$0:0">.
(Money makes the world go round). I thoroughly enjoyed it. Although did
keep raising the window 'curtain' to look at the Aussie outback, which
was totally amazing too! (I have a photo or two to prove it! :) )</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".27.1:3:1:$comment10152009018623285_28522827:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".27.1:3:1:$comment10152009018623285_28522827:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".27.1:3:1:$comment10152009018623285_28522827:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".27.1:3:1:$comment10152009018623285_28522827:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".27.1:3:1:$comment10152009018623285_28522827:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$0:0">I feel even a bit more 'connected' to this
movie, and Liza, as I got to London, and Liza was having a rather torrid
affair with Peter Sellers and it was front page news, they were making
out in the parks and so forth. *lol* Then of course, later going and
living in Germany for 3 years, and learning of the culture there and seeing
remnants of the war post 'just' some 27 years later (seemed a long time
at that time, but so soon after, I feel, now), but there was a lot - visited prison camps, and explored
burnt out tank shells when camping out in German war fields.<br /><br />Anyway, Liza sure
packed a punch with "Mein Herr" for sure. Won me over.</span></span></span></span></span>Just Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06081081064682774708noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574427357388828743.post-80176135739331644472014-01-18T13:12:00.000-08:002014-01-27T12:18:07.529-08:00People/Horses on beach at Semaphore Beach - New painting.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirU2jKvBO68GPD8ZAstG-hg0BYduwWJ-6knAy6yClAPuPk5BJXsbn4NPnYFRguYeeGNnBhPlIxEX_CIfOqU2-kWoY9982I1mxAXm2lmEIord-zowXLLqmwa-UChKD_QRpyxIUL0r05-Hk2/s1600/W-066_StartTheDayAtAGallop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirU2jKvBO68GPD8ZAstG-hg0BYduwWJ-6knAy6yClAPuPk5BJXsbn4NPnYFRguYeeGNnBhPlIxEX_CIfOqU2-kWoY9982I1mxAXm2lmEIord-zowXLLqmwa-UChKD_QRpyxIUL0r05-Hk2/s1600/W-066_StartTheDayAtAGallop.jpg" height="318" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I've wanted to paint this for a long time, so I can't help but wonder where these people are now. No doubt the 'little' girl is at least a teenager. Dawn at one of Adelaide, South Australia's beaches (Semaphore). Where horses are allowed to exercise on the beach and in the surf up until 8am. At one stage this was along all the beaches, and a great many were exercised at Grange, where I lived, and was lucky enough to be let ride sometimes, as a child. </span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I've done several paintings from this location. Love this with the Mum, child, big and little horses (Shetland pony), and Jack Russell Terrier running alongside. Original watercolour 6x6"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">"Starting The Day With A Gallop" - currently listed on eBay for a week at a very low starting price (along with 7 other SFA watercolors). <a href="http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=291060359629">http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=291060359629</a></span>Just Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06081081064682774708noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574427357388828743.post-85398641005996799382014-01-07T22:54:00.000-08:002014-01-07T22:54:26.398-08:001950s - Dog Shows<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0oHg5Pcr13eCQuSJHpmW2qZj2RuIB_nsZB04JF2DUVuz-GK7FMFDhyTJ_tzjEVteNsCODZR3_hqgmypxbuJyHwU8FvxdRSsD8ICPXOIu_KM54gf_fcTFsKs7idFtOEjfZLBuvIsgWnP0/s1600/img196-blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0oHg5Pcr13eCQuSJHpmW2qZj2RuIB_nsZB04JF2DUVuz-GK7FMFDhyTJ_tzjEVteNsCODZR3_hqgmypxbuJyHwU8FvxdRSsD8ICPXOIu_KM54gf_fcTFsKs7idFtOEjfZLBuvIsgWnP0/s1600/img196-blog.jpg" height="260" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">One of the most amazing times of my young life began when Mum & Dad went out rather secretively and came back with a German Shepherd puppy. Evidently my Mum had wanted one. We named her 'Trixie' (Rowlandscourt Nerissa?) and was bought from a breeder in Brighton. She was a few months old, or thereabouts. I was instantly in love. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">For a long time German Shepherds were in my life, and in my young pre-teen and teen life bought about a 'life' outside the home. We would go to dog shows all over. Just about every community had dog shows and most would be held in conjunction with community fairs (agricultural societies). I loved looking at the crafts, arts, cooking, preserving, and visiting all the animals. We would have great picnic lunches, and I learnt all the fine details of showing dogs, and, as a 'child handler' won many certificates and ribbons. For a while I started training as a judge, and almost immediately became a 'mid-wife' when litters were born. Trixie would let me near, but noone else. She would commence the birth process in my bedroom, so my room became a baby birth station. I had always said I wanted to be a veterinary surgeon, so this fitted in beautifully. Even though my parents told me that I couldn't (I was a girl). My other choice was to be an artist - a commercial artist - even though I didn't truly know what that was. Just knew that it was what I needed to be. I always told people I was an artist. I didn't even know artists, so I was a bit 'weird' to most with this desire. It stood me in good stead in later years, getting a job at a Veterinary Clinic in Atlanta - where I discovered I LOVED the veterinary life, and think I would have made a great surgeon! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Anyway, this is one of the many certificates I got - this was a 2nd prize, on 10-10-59 - Kapunda and Light Agricultural Society Inc. Championship Show. The childish hand for breed, class, name, and exhibitor is probably my handwriting. I can remember that some certificates weren't fully made out. But I didn't falsify it. It was won as stated.</span>Just Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06081081064682774708noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574427357388828743.post-65780389994004475942014-01-07T00:06:00.001-08:002014-01-07T00:06:15.999-08:00Henley High School - 1960s - Death of Headmaster<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuSnJdu2TGUgo7faM5nfim61vUD8siJh270zaMICXqJ0zS4RhY9m-5dpR8IMBeYYKK4dD7sLtI2rtBqBwRx0Bx8t4Zp2Lgg46MipYIME-SAqXpzq2zW_YYsvCtQZt0Or-fBYEguE-IDsU/s1600/Mr-Senior-img196.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuSnJdu2TGUgo7faM5nfim61vUD8siJh270zaMICXqJ0zS4RhY9m-5dpR8IMBeYYKK4dD7sLtI2rtBqBwRx0Bx8t4Zp2Lgg46MipYIME-SAqXpzq2zW_YYsvCtQZt0Or-fBYEguE-IDsU/s1600/Mr-Senior-img196.jpg" height="320" width="192" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I remember that the headmaster of Grange Primary School was Mr Wade, and us students loved him. 1950s. I have a feeling that he died while I was attending there. But it was with total shock that Mr Senior died when I was at Henley High School. I'm not sure of the year - 1964, or 3?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">It was such a new school, and held up as a shining example of the times, and we all were so very full of enthusiasm. So full of hope for the future, full of vitality, and activity. This is the news clipping from the newspaper at the time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">One of the 'administration' steps taken at one stage, was to separate boys and girls at recess and lunch breaks. Whether it was put in to effect by the headmaster (not sure which one), or teachers, or prefects, I don't know. I heard stories about why this 'rule' was put in to effect, but won't repeat it here. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />What was the most amazing thing was what happened. There was a drain between the 'old' and the 'new' school where we were told not to cross, boys in 'new' side as was closest to the oval, and girls in the old.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I can remember being one of the first - I don't know how it all started, but once started the whole school joined in. We sat on the ground. Boys on one side of the drain, girls on the other. I can't remember singing, or clapping or anything, but know that the new 'rule' was quickly retracted, and we were all told to get up and go about our usual activities. I'm not quite sure how many students took part. But can remember telling people that there were 900 students. But heck - memories are so fleeting and funny at times. Not all is as remembered.</span>Just Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06081081064682774708noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574427357388828743.post-57602632144058455532014-01-06T23:47:00.000-08:002014-01-08T08:56:11.558-08:00People of the 1960s - Henley Beach Sailing Club (West Beach) + Sturt Movie Theatre<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXQ5rBv7jwXEy2HBGvie7Z6LfyBGKrWFn0J71oV3bbiDxPT_Pi2dcOKBFzA9slI873La9eVS3nlDhD3pP2O3DIuKS4NI1XoCoNGOvuQ901AKdlq-oXFCymE5LITLVzTikBozqFSnIIjsk/s1600/img194-Blog-Mr-Wright.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXQ5rBv7jwXEy2HBGvie7Z6LfyBGKrWFn0J71oV3bbiDxPT_Pi2dcOKBFzA9slI873La9eVS3nlDhD3pP2O3DIuKS4NI1XoCoNGOvuQ901AKdlq-oXFCymE5LITLVzTikBozqFSnIIjsk/s1600/img194-Blog-Mr-Wright.jpg" height="259" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">This is an old clipping in the society pages of the Australian Women's Weekly. Not sure of the year. 1960s? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Mr Gordon Wright was the father of a guy I dated in the 60s. Mr Wright was the manager of the Sturt movie theatre in Rundle Street (now Rundle Mall), in Adelaide. The lotteries commission was built on this site. I remember seeing 'The Graduate' there. It was quite a startling movie at the time - very 60s! Also I think I saw 'Mondo Carne' there? and definitely 'Oliver Twist'.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Mr Wright lived at West Beach, not far from the Sailing Club, and was an active sailor. For many years I would go past his house, as many did, and see the yacht he was building - quite a talking point as it was made of concrete.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">UPDATE: I'm now fairly certain that I saw 'Mondo Carne', which was considered quite shocking at the time, at the Capri Cinema. I don't know if it still exists as I haven't lived in Adelaide since mid-2003. I believe it to be off either Goodwood or Unley Road. A beautiful theatre. Roundness comes to mind and stucco. Think the facade had these. Gold stucco and reddish accents? </span>Just Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06081081064682774708noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574427357388828743.post-6419680393194097172014-01-06T23:35:00.000-08:002014-01-06T23:35:01.521-08:001960s + Yoyo craze + Col. Light statue, North Adelaide<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifFR3N6OLigjVh-xKIy48TvF_iXuMjkhlkKJSjG-CsOpb6aCfPlmOQSN11rpf__ZoXp8_9qJZmtRg10Q5OIOL7VCIInfHpm4Sh5CMcARU6-z5jUhXwRGnfqyrpa-BXXnT6UQu0R0EUA5M/s1600/img194-FB.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifFR3N6OLigjVh-xKIy48TvF_iXuMjkhlkKJSjG-CsOpb6aCfPlmOQSN11rpf__ZoXp8_9qJZmtRg10Q5OIOL7VCIInfHpm4Sh5CMcARU6-z5jUhXwRGnfqyrpa-BXXnT6UQu0R0EUA5M/s1600/img194-FB.jpg" height="235" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />OK. This is an item in "The News" - the evening newspaper at the time. 19th February, 1964.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I'll never know who took the yo-yo down (installed 11th - Sunday evening), but I do know who put it up and who aided by holding onto the rope, and moving it around to the other side of the statue to stop headlights of passing cars finding out what was going on. ;)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">At least one of us was not totally sober. Forgotten exactly who was there, and how many. But two I do know. </span>Just Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06081081064682774708noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8574427357388828743.post-46984726935155803442014-01-04T23:03:00.002-08:002014-01-04T23:58:02.515-08:00Henley & Grange earthquake - 1964? - Newspaper clipping.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIK0V9F2U7sMJ8heXquRFC4-jvXXmk1hq0cnc8e3ceuyohn3J3nxrbYB_V47OAm0nG2Vy0vGg87H3x0pImwSOkVSt8GJiNwYmPyRTtiSeW5CxuIxa35gz96ycT3iaUQTNg2mIEP-WSzGA/s1600/Tremor-Earthquake-News.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIK0V9F2U7sMJ8heXquRFC4-jvXXmk1hq0cnc8e3ceuyohn3J3nxrbYB_V47OAm0nG2Vy0vGg87H3x0pImwSOkVSt8GJiNwYmPyRTtiSeW5CxuIxa35gz96ycT3iaUQTNg2mIEP-WSzGA/s320/Tremor-Earthquake-News.jpg" width="78" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Made the Adelaide 'Advertiser' newspaper front page.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">BUT was eternally made fun of by school pals - at Henley High School they hadn't felt it. I was at my aunt's home on Military Road, Henley Beach (3 houses south of North Tce), sitting on a concrete porch. I'd left school early to go to a doctor's appointment. It felt like a big rumbling truck to me, and I looked for it, but couldn't see one. That was more than a mile away from the Tucker/Pearson home in Grange, mentioned in the article.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I remember the 'big' one in Adelaide when we were soundly shaken in the early 1950s. At the time I shared a bedroom with my Mother. I believe it was the early hours of the morning. I woke up, and the windows were shaking - like a rumbling was happening. At the time the railway line was on Military Road, just below us, at our back fence, with house on Seaview Road. Mum had her bed light on, and I asked her what was happening. She told me it was a train going by, to go back to sleep (thanks Mum! - just as well the house didn't come crashing down!). The windows were 'old' glass with rope pulls at the sides. They did rattle with buses on Seaview Road in later years. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">UPDATE - ADD ON: Seems I've already posted on this. See http://bornin1948.blogspot.com/2012/04/earthquake-newsclipping-adelaide-beach.html and also http://bornin1948.blogspot.com/2012/04/earthquake-hits-adelaide-south.html </span><br />
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<br />Just Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06081081064682774708noreply@blogger.com1