The Curry Apple Orchard

Sunday, 22nd May, 2016

Happy birthday Cameron, even though it is over now in Australia and you are getting ready to go to work on Monday.

We are both recovering from a tough day of walking despite efforts to use public transport where possible. Our wake up time seems to be around 4.00 am but we waited until dawn to get up and still had an early start to the day. A quick trip to the Hell’s Kitchen markets which were still in the process of setting up was interesting but there was nothing I wanted to buy.

Because we are leaving from Penn Station on Tuesday we decided to walk there and see if we needed a taxi with our luggage in tow. Even though it is only 700 metres we think we will take the easy way out. We bought our Metro Card at a food kiosk in Penn Station with $19.87 or 8 trips on it. John and I can share it and top it up if necessary. Not sure what to do next we asked a man in uniform and were directed to a downtown platform. On the train a chatty American woman and John hit it off and so we followed her to a shuttle bus at Chambers St because of weekend track work. We alighted half way between the ferry terminal and One World Trade Centre.

It was time for a coffee so we tried Gregory’s near Wall Street, enticed by the decor and the sign, “see coffee differently”. They didn’t  have flat whites but their cortado was very good and quite similar.

We walked between the construction sites of surrounding buildings and observed the two square waterfalls on the site of the former twin towers. They are mesmerising, as water falls down in sheets and then disappears over another edge to oblivion. The names of those who lost their lives in the towers, the firemen, the people in the planes and those from an earlier terrorist attack are all engraved on the surrounding flat edges. The queue for the museum was long so we walked instead to the edge of the Hudson River. John saw sailing boats so was immediately excited. The whole area from North Cove to Battery Point consists of boardwalks, gardens and pleasant vistas of the Hudson and of course the Statue of Liberty.

 

We hadn’t planned to go out to Liberty or Ellis Island but found ourselves waiting in a long line for the ferry with John muttering about crowds on weekends. Forty years ago we were so cold we stayed in the warmth of the ferry but this time we walked around the island listening to headsets and admiring the size and construction of Libertas, the torch bearing Roman Goddess. Four million people a year visit the Statue of Liberty and good few of them were there today.

Back on the ferry we landed at Ellis Island where a three storey museum in what was once America’s immigration station told the stories of many new settlers to America.

 

Unfortunately John’s foot gave out. We had walked many kilometres and now we had to get home. He looked longingly at the yellow taxis but we followed the reverse of our morning trip, ferry, shuttle, train and walk. Hopefully he will recover for our last day in New York.

I read up on how to take the heat out of a too hot chilli dish. I tried them all – add a can of pineapple, add two tablespoons of butter, serve with rice and top with yoghurt, add lots of salad. The mince was just edible but it has now gone in the bin and we are eating out tomorrow.

Friday, 20th May, 2016

I forgot to mention that last night at dinner we saw the most extraordinary people arriving. Some wore black and were extremely tall and thin, others were dressed in cloaks or had white makeup on their faces. One wore a body stocking or maybe she was just painted. I asked the waiter what was going on. He replied that it was the Domination Convention. I looked it up and found that it was for the world’s Top Dominatrices, Bondage and Fetish models, Webmasters, Fetish Photographers, Performing Artists, Educators, Leatherfolk and Lifestyle People. What will they do? You might well ask, but according to their web page they will have demonstrations, seminars and panel discussions. Unfortunately I wasn’t brave enough to ask to take a photo.

This morning we woke early, checked out and caught the shuttle to the airport. We were given seats right in the middle of the middle row so John would have been trapped but after much discussion and sweet talking on John’s part we were given the seats behind the baby bassinets which were great, especially as there were no babies. Once in JFK airport we decided to splurge on a taxi to save John’s foot. It cost us $70 (with tip) because of peak hour on a Friday afternoon but we pulled up at the Candlewood Suites with some daylight left to see around us.

First visit was to the Big Apple Meat Store to buy food for meals. After putting all that away I couldn’t face cooking so we walked to the corner of the block and had a Greek meal at Snack Eos. We opted for Greek fritto misto, shrimp Santorini and lamb triangles. This was accompanied by a glass of New York red wine – a Shinn Estate Vineyard Merlot. The food was great and the waiter very amusing. He was interested in the blog and hoped I was going to write about more than the wine. Looks like I’ll have to write a review on Trip Advisor as well.

The flights have taken their toll and John was unsure if his foot would see him to Times Square and back but we made it. It is only a few blocks away and worth going to for the flashing signboards, Disney Characters and the people who come to look at them. Hopefully John will be able to walk tomorrow but if not we can adjust the program. The weather was quite pleasant today but rain is forecast so that will just mean more indoor activities.

Saturday, 21st May, 2016

When you look out the window of our room on the 21st floor you see a building opposite with many windows. Looking down you can’t see the road. Looking up you can’t see the sky. Our room is a good place to sleep and sometimes eat but there is no reason to stay in otherwise.

We headed out this morning with no clear plan in mind. Well, I had one but John likes to play it more by ear. Sometimes that works and it did today.

We walked back through Times Square towards Central Park. Last time we were in New York we completely missed Central Park, partly because it was so cold. We passed a lot of young people trying to sell us rides in horse drawn carriages but John decided he was fit enough for a bike ride. We hired some bikes with helmets at $15 for two hours in a shop a block away from the park and wheeled them down to the bike track.

It is such a good way to see Central Park. There are no cars and there are designated bike tracks with fast and slow lanes. I even managed the hills without too much difficulty. The only problem was the seat on my bike progressively tipped foreword so that I was continually trying to get back up. The bike company looked pretty new so I was quick to tell them about the seat adjustment when we returned. John was still walking without any problems so we decided to go home via the Rockefeller Centre. As the weather is grey and almost raining a trip to the top was not a priority. We explored the food courts and shops in the basement. The area was quite dark and gloomy on this grey and gloomy day but we found a Pret a Manger where we bought a couple of sandwiches as we realised we were quite hungry.

The walk home was interesting as we saw Radio City and Carnegie Hall which are so familiar in our subconscious memory. Our hotel is near the garment quarter where every shop sells material. A street over is the jewellery quarter. As we arrived at 339 W 39th Street we could see the Hell’s Kitchen Flea Market at the end of the street. Definitely something to check out tomorrow morning early.

We usually like to cook some of our own meals when we are in a new city. This way we get to shop locally and experience some of the local culture. We bought pretty basic staples. Spaghetti, a jar of Bertolli Arrabbiata sauce and some minced streak, a salad mix containing 15 different types of leaf and a small bottle of Balsamic vinegar and a bottle of olive oil which should stay with us for the entire trip. To put a bit of zing in the mince mixture we bought garlic cloves and some West Indian chillies. You would think that I would know my chilli by now but these looked fairly innocuous. I removed the seeds and put all four chillies in the mince mixture. Bad move!

When not only my fingers but the top of my hands started burning I realised I had made a mistake. Only large amounts of spaghetti, salad and water helped the mince go down. I looked up my little chillies on Google and found they are also called Scotch Bonnet and are the 21st hottest chillies in the world. John had three helpings so he thought they were fine.

The more mundane activities today included washing down on C level where a kind young man helped me negotiate the washers and dryers. Later when John found he had a bottle of red wine and a broken corkscrew the same young man arrived with a replacement. Surely this deserves a tip! I have his name but how much and will he still be around?

We have arrived in Los Angeles! It must be old age but 14 hours in a plane is as long as I can take. We seem to have been travelling forever. First a taxi to the railway. Then a train to the Sydney international airport. Rydges was a really convenient place to stay, just a short walk from the International Terminal and with a great view of planes landing and taking off. We had a pleasant meal at the Blackwattle Grill before trying to get a good night’s sleep.

The first seven hours in our Air Bus 380 was relatively pleasant with lunch, movies and a glass of sparkling wine. I’ve decided that is about as long as a flight should take but alas we had seven more hours until we landed at 6.00 am Californian time.

We caught up on a few movies. Following an American theme we started with “Brooklyn” which we both enjoyed, and then the “Revenant” which had me gripping John’s arm tightly but at least it took my mind off flying. We both started on “Amelie” which we hadn’t seen but John gave up and moved on to reminisce with Mrs Robinson in “The Graduate”. I really couldn’t face another movie but with three hours to go opted for “Wild” about a woman who hiked the West Coast of the USA. For our health we wore our travel socks, did our foot exercises and walked frequent laps around the plane, drinking large amounts of water.

Immigration at LA was slow but everyone was polite and friendly. As we emerged into the grey morning we saw masses of mini buses to various hotels and were soon on the free shuttle to the Hilton. I asked an American woman about tipping the driver as I don’t want to make a mistake. She suggested a dollar a bag so I am so glad we had changed a $50 bill for some small notes in Westpac in Wollongong.

With an hour and a half to kill before our room was ready we had coffee. John mischievously asked for an espresso but was given some black percolated coffee and told to add milk. What did he expect! Meanwhile I found my phone wasn’t connecting to the local telco although we could use the hotel wifi. Some time later after a shower and a sleep I contacted Telstra Support Chat Line and a helpful man called Ronald turned on International Roaming. Don’t panic. My phone is prepaid and I have lots of free credits so won’t receive any huge bills. Just don’t ring me in the middle of the night.

After resting up in LA we will be back on a plane tomorrow to New York. Maybe by then I will have taken some photos.

In 1976, on Christmas Day, we arrived in San Francisco after an 18 hour flight via Fiji and Hawaii.  It was our first experience of America and my first big overseas trip (you can’t count New Zealand).  There I am in my inadequate orange parka braving the minus 20 Celsius (minus 4 F).  We were staying with my husband’s aunt (a war bride) in Muskegon, Michigan.  Looking outside at the bright blue sky we decided to take a walk, so borrowing scarves and gloves we set off down the road.  After about ten minutes the cold really hit us and we started to shiver.  A car pulled up and a friendly face looked out.

“You must be the Australians” he laughed.  “No-one else would be out walking in this weather.”

We gratefully accepted a lift as he turned out to be a cousin and were soon back in the warm house.  Never had we seen so much snow.  John enjoyed shovelling snow from the path each morning so we could get out the door.

We had already visited friends in Seattle and Vancouver and were on our way to New York.  Walking home from Broadway one night after seeing Richard Chamberlain in “The Night of the Iguana”, the snowflakes falling gently on our heads and shoulders we couldn’t believe how different this was to life at home in Wollongong.

Of course the Twin Towers were there then.  They were still relatively new but we didn’t go to the top, choosing to go up the Empire State Building instead.  We had a good view of them from the ferry as we forged our way through ice to the Statue of Liberty.  We were too cold to get off the boat so waited in the warm until it returned to Battery Park.

We had a Fly Around ticket which allowed us to travel in a circle around the USA but it omitted New Orleans and Florida.  So we opted for Las Vegas and Los Angeles next as we were suffering from continual frostbite.

That brings us to the present.  Thirty nine years since our  frozen visit to New York and we would like to catch up on some of the places we didn’t see before and visit some that were not even there then.  In this blog I will trace a route from Sydney to Los Angeles and then to New York.  From there we will travel to the Adirondacks to visit friends, catch a train to Niagara Falls and a bus to Toronto.  Another train will take us to Montreal where we will board a ship and travel along the St Lawrence Seaway.  Arriving in Boston we plan to drive to Cape Cod before flying from Boston to New York to Los Angeles.  Here will will rest awhile in Santa Monica before the flight home.

 

I must have been Googling something when I came across Wangiwriter’s Blog.  She was writing about her childhood in the Illawarra and appeared to be about my age group.  I followed with interest and noted she had participated in several A to Z Challenges.  As I was going off to sleep, or walking, or doing housework or travelling by car or train I mentally assigned posts to each letter.  I could do this, I thought!  I had long wanted to write something about my forebears for my grandchildren so thought this would be a good start.  The more memories I dredged up from my childhood the more I remembered.    Before the challenge started I wrote most of the entries.  That was the easy part.

Getting my head around Word Press was the difficulty.  I had previously written two blogs, one about China and one about a trip to Europe for my husband’s 70th birthday.  Somehow  the URL in my signature sent people to the Chin Blog and not the A to Z.  I couldn’t work out what was wrong and finally put a post on the China blog directing people to the A to Z. I now have remedied the situation (a bit late) and also put titles in the menus to enable people to go from one blog to another.  It took me quite some time to work out how to do that.

 

In the meantime the people who found my blog and stayed with it were giving me encouragement and even though I wasn’t expecting it I looked forward to their posts. Cassmob and GeniAus made lots of comments and have given me plenty of ideas for further researching family history. Diary of an Expat brought back memories of France, nikisthoughts were a detailed account of a Texan living in a musical military family in Upstate New York, Maureen wrote a similar but different blog to mine, Molly Charbonneau wrote  wonderful comments and stories, joannesisco  toured  the world’s great places to visit, Tammi Kale regaled us with her stressful but memorable visit to New York, Weekends in Maine (loved that lobster post) made me want to go to that state, lightheaded wrote about retiring in Ecuador at 8,200 feet and all that involves.  There were a few blogs, like Waldina where I read about all the famous people who have affected the writer and made the world a better place.  Plucking at My Heartstrings featured a charity for every letter.  Then there were blogs about various places in the USA and Canada where I’ll be travelling later this month.  So much reading and so many new contacts!  Some will keep in touch and some will move on but it has been a great experience.

The place was Manly, Sydney, sometime in the late ‘50s, and we were off to see “The Wizard of Oz”.  I remember my disappointment when it started.  It was in black and white!  Soon I became engrossed in the story and then, wonder of wonders, the screen filled with Technicolor.

I can recall dozens of “pictures” as we called them, from the first ten years of my life, which is remarkable as we mostly lived in the country and never attended the local Bowral Picture Theatre.  However it was a family tradition to see as many as we could whenever staying in Sydney.

Before we left for the bush we visited the new Bass Hill Drive-In.  This was very exciting, especially as we ate at the cafeteria before the show began. When we arrived a speaker attached by a wire to a post was passed through the slightly open window. As we only had a truck at the time we must have watched from an elevated position.

I can remember going to the picture theatre with both parents to see “The Man Who Knew Too Much” with Doris Day singing “Que Sera Sera”.  “Davy Crocket, King of the Wild Frontier”, inspired an unrequited desire for a Davy Crocket hat but all too soon the bright lights of Sydney were left behind.

My father and I would catch the steam train from  Yerrinbool Station, arriving two hours later at Central Railway, Sydney.  Carrying our bags down George Street we would check in at the Morris Hotel. 

Disney movies like “Old Yella” and the Hayley Mills films, “Tiger Bay”, Pollyanna” and “The Parent Trap” were great favourites. Of course I loved the cartoons and we even popped in to see the newsreel when the Hunter Valley was inundated with flood waters.

There were the greats, such as “Gone With the Wind”.  How I cried when Bonnie fell off her horse. “The Incredible Shrinking Man” had me mesmerized, especially the fight with the spider.  As for “A Night to Remember”, it instilled in me the knowledge that a captain should always go down with his ship. “The Admirable Crichton” made me suspicious of all people who say, “the fact is”.  You know then that they are not telling the truth. 

Musicals such as “The Al Jolson Story” and “The Student Prince” were full of wonderful songs to sing on our road trips.  “Around the World in 80 Days” and “Journey to the Centre of the Earth” provided source material for endless discussions .  My atheist father even took me to see “Ben-Hur” and “The Ten Commandments”.

One of my most vivid memories was of a science fiction film about an invasion from outer space by flying saucers.  I don’t even know what it was called but at the end the invaders shrivelled up inside their space crafts.  That night my father made sure I was in bed in our room at The Morris before heading out to Thommo’s to try his luck.  I lay in bed looking out the wide open window at the stars.  I was sure the aliens were coming to get me so climbed out of bed, opened the door and sat in the brightly lit hallway until my father came back.  He was surprised and a little bit shocked by the event.  I don’t think he ever told my mother.

1. Hello Giggles.com
2. By Lauren Williams The Daily Telegraph October 27, 2007
3. By Past/Lives Michael Wayne
4. Al Jolson Wikipedia
5. Photo credit: Chaval Brasil via Foter.com / CC BY-NC-ND

When we arrived in Yerrinbool in 1957 it was a complete contrast to life in Sydney.  Our home was about half a mile from the one and only General Store, but my mother would put on her hat, gloves and heels and walk up the stony road to get the newspaper and collect the mail. The Post Office was housed in the General Store although it had opened in 1919, two years before the store was built

There was a corrugated iron village hall used for monthly church services, Sunday School, Progress Association and Bushfire Brigade Meetings. The local community had banded together to build this in 1938.  It is now painted cream and green and has a few additions

The railway station, opened in 1919, was built beside the new line which replaced the Picton Loop Line.  It was constructed from weatherboard, painted pale blue, with white gravel platforms and a profusion of fuchsias hanging in baskets from the awnings.  The stationmaster took great pride in its appearance and it had won awards for being one of the most attractive stations in the region.  His house was one of the more substantial buildings in town and even boasted a tennis court.

The first land sales in Yerrinbool were in 1919 and 1920 as a village was laid out after the opening of the railway station.  The area had been known as “Little Forest” but the new town was named Yerrinbool, which was Aboriginal for “wood duck”.  Nearby was the notorious “Bargo Brush” where, in the 19th Century, bushrangers would hold up the stage coaches travelling along the Great South Road.

Another half mile on from the station was the public school.  The acre block was covered in bush except for  a hard packed, stony playground at the front.  Two toilets were situated some distance from the school building and from each other. On 20 August 1922, the school was opened with 30 students enrolled.   Not far from the school was a service station which supplied the milk for the children, collected each day in a billy can by a student.  In 1962 it closed its doors forever.

Less than a hundred houses made up the rest of the township.  The waterhole opposite our property was an old gravel pit and was reputed to be very deep.  The water was used by anyone who needed it and was much appreciated during a drought.

There were four large apple orchards at each end of the village and a poultry farm.  The rest of the population scraped a living from small farms or lived frugally on pensions in tiny cottages that lined the gravel roads.

Our teacher, Mr Scott, boarded with a family running a small farm.  The daughter of the household was a few years older than me and used to handwrite all the school reports in her neat printing.  She later became a teacher so it was good training.

At one end of our property was a viaduct running under the railway where the Hume Highway took a sharp turn in order to meet the railway at right angles.  Every few months there would be a crash and we would see another semi-trailer come to grief.  Sometimes the driver would be killed.  Once a truck unloaded its contents of milk all over our paddock, killing all the grass and turning it black.Another time a truck caught fire and the large TOTAL sign written across the viaduct was blackened and ruined, never to be replaced.

Yerrinbool was a one horse town.  The horse was named Sovereign and his owner, Mr Dowsett, used to take him to the Easter Show and ride behind him in a sulky around the Parade Ground.  Great was our excitement when he trotted by us one day on our way home from school and offered us a ride.  We would walk past Sovereign on our way to school and offer him handfuls of grass.  To own a horse was my dream but it was not to be.

In what was a very ordinary little village there was something unusual.  It was a Baha’i summer school.  Looking for something to do one summer holiday, I wandered past and was asked if I wanted to join in.  They were having quite a jolly time with singing and dancing so I visited them quite often and was impressed with their inclusive attitude towards other faiths.

The Bush Fire Brigade was an essential part of living in the middle of a forest of gum trees.  Apparently there were  bush fires the year we arrived although I can’t remember them. The 1950s were unusually wet but the extra vegetation must have meant that when they came the fires were even worse.  Reading the history of the Yerrinbool Brigade I can see the familiar names of all the major families in the town, working together to provide trucks, equipment and storage facilities, while the Ladies Auxiliary ran street stalls in Mittagong an effort to raise money to buy a fire truck/tanker.

Sadly the numbers at the school declined, the Progress Association meetings, Christmas parties and  Sunday School all stopped and only the Bush Fire meetings and once a month church service continued.  It seemed everyone was getting old and no younger people were coming to live .

Since I left in  1968 things have changed considerably.  The nearby coal mines brought new people and houses to the area.  Although the population is now over one thousand the school was never reopened and  children are bused to other towns.The school became a private residence and  burned down in 1970. The railway staion is a shell of its former self.

The Waterhole is fenced off and the pump is rusting.  Even our twelve acres at “The Waterhole” was subdivided, although  our house is still standing beside the old and dying pine trees .

1. General Store taken by Linda Curry 2016
2. Yerrinbool Hall taken by Linda Curry 2016
3. Railway station nswrail@pobox.com 1988
4. Yerrinbool School Berrima District Historical and Family History Society 1930
5. Tennessee Orchard http://www.touristlink.com/australia/big-apple/overview.html
6. Viaduct Image © Paul Rands 2006
7. Fire Service HQ taken by Linda Curry 2016
8. Waterhole taken by Linda Curry 2016

I was told at Sunday School to never leave the Christ out of Christmas so spent years writing the whole word. Fifty years later  I have moved on and think how convenient it is to use  the letter X so that C can be used for another topic.

There was Xmas before Yerrinbool and Xmas after.  In Sydney I remember two, so must have been 4 and 5.  The first one was memorable in that I was led into the breakfast room to see presents from wall to wall.  I had never seen so many.  I can only remember a doll’s pram, tea set, a doll, a toy sewing machine and  a small table and chairs but it certainly was a bonanza that year.  The next year we had a tree and the presents were draped over it.  There was a Texas Ranger outfit with long trousers and a waistcoat with a plastic star, a popgun and a cap gun and a bright red toy MG.

After the move the presents dwindled to books and sensible underwear but as I grew older I enjoyed the trappings of Xmas more, hanging decorations from the ceiling and on Xmas Eve, selecting a branch from one of the pine trees and installing it in the lounge room.  Being a tree branch it always had a tendency to lean over in one direction and had to be tied to the curtain rail to remain standing.

Xmas dinner  (eaten at lunchtime) was always roast chicken and baked vegetables. 

This was followed by plum pudding and custard which I only ate to find the threepences inside.  To my annoyance the adults would sleep in the afternoon so I would read my new books or wander around impatiently outside until they woke up.

My grandmothers didn’t believe in spoiling children and as I was an only child they were concerned I might be given too much and take it for granted.  Maybe that is why the presents became fewer as I grew older.  Every year, without fail, there was a Readers’ Digest Annual for Children which provided a neverending resource of interesting information and added greatly to my knowledge of American culture.

After my father died Christmas was usually spent with my grandmother Kay, Uncle Claude and my mother at The Waterhole.  This is a photo taken in 1968 of the newly decorated lounge room, all orange and brown, my mother, grandmother and the Scots pine branch Xmas tree.

When we had roast lamb for dinner the leftovers were never wasted.  The next day they would be cooked up with sultanas, some vegetables and Vencatachellum Curry Powder. Vencatachellum was the brand name for a spice mix imported from India.  Typical of the 1950s was that food was never wasted.  The Sunday roast chicken became soup on Monday. Corned beef became rugged racehorses the next day (slices of meat dipped in batter).  Another use for left over lamb was Shepherd’s Pie.  We never had pork as my mother couldn’t stand the smell of it but she did cook boiling bacon which was as good as ham on wholemeal bread for school lunches.  T-bone steaks and chops were commonly on the table along with three or more vegetables.

My father would cook now and again.  There were only two meals in his repertoire but they were greatly anticipated and enjoyed.  One was his misnamed spaghetti bolognaise as it consisted of a whole chopped up chicken cooked in a homemade tomato sauce and served with spaghetti.  The other was salmon pie which was tinned salmon in a white sauce with a potato and cheese topping.

Food deliveries made life easier for people living in isolated towns.  Eight miles to Mittagong seemed a long way to go for groceries!  The butcher from Bargo delivered meat, the milkman (named Billy Cairns) filled the billy hung on the gate, the fruiterer arrived in his truck once a week with exotic vegetables called zucchini and eggplant which my mother enthusiastically cooked along with the more mundane varieties.

Dessert was an essential part of every evening meal.  My mother would cook rice puddings, pasta puddings and bread and jam puddings.  Every summer we sweated as we laboured, filling Vacola bottles with peaches, plums and apples from our orchard and submerging them in the large green preserving unit full of boiling water which sat on the fuel stove.  Blackberries from the back of the property made the most wonderful jam.  Apples  and blackberries dripped through muslin in the laundry to make clear jellies.  Green tomatoes were combined with banana passionfruit to make unusual jams or used on their own to make pickles.

The only cakes my mother made were fruit cakes and as for pies of the pastry variety, they were never on the menu.  Canned food was rarely used and considered a luxury.

Although I had no Aunts or Uncles my grandmother Kay had a younger brother called Claude, who lived in Victoria.  He had been a sickly child, missing large amounts of school and slow to achieve the milestones expected of him.  As a result he grew up unable to read or write. Sometime in the late 1950s Kay must have had news from her relatives that he was living in reduced circumstances so she dispatched my father to Victoria to find him and bring him back.

This was a big adventure because I was going too and we were to catch the Melbourne Limited Express and travel in a Sleeping Car. Inside the compartment were two fixed sleeping bunks, one above the other.  A  pull down handbasin with brass face plate, a mirror and varnished timber walls added an element of luxury . 

After a night’s sleep we were up early for we had arrived at Albury Station on the NSW/Victorian border.  Because NSW and Victoria had different sized railway gauges our train was unable to travel any further.  Breakfast at the station cafeteria was eaten before we climbed aboard the famous Spirit of Progress to continue our journey to Melbourne.

The next day saw us on the train to Terang where my great uncle worked on a dairy farm.  His room was small and dark and he worked long hours milking and carrying out farm chores.  What the farmer thought when my father arrived and demanded that Claude leave with him I will leave to your imagination.  I can’t remember if we had a sleeper on the way back but do remember his first night at our home where he must have felt very strange.

Uncle Claude lived with us for many years, first in The Stone Room built from convict brick and then in the Long Room (a converted shed).  Eventually Kay bought him a tiny house across the road, hired a builder to add a kitchen and called it Lock Cottage. 

Claude did odd jobs around the property, fed the animals when we were away and rode his motorbike for recreation.  He was kind and gentle, with a slow drawl and a love of animals, motorbikes and  roll-your-own  cigarettes.