It occurred to me recently, that it had been a while since I
had read a book that I wrote over a decade ago about my earlier life, for the benefit of my offspring; and
I wondered how much of it I’d remember having written – because now, at the age
of 68, I’m aware of memory losses, or inefficiencies thereof.
Well, that exercise indeed proved that very diagnosis and I was
reminded of plenty. But then I thought
about how it indeed had come to have even being written. Here, memories work fine: -
Pam wanted to write a book about her early life and explains
why so in her introduction, cut and pasted from the actual text file…
Introduction.
Over the years, various people have suggested
to me that I should “write a book.” This was undoubtedly due to the very long
letters that I used to hand-write and later type, on a regular basis to family
and friends. I didn’t take this
suggestion seriously, as it seemed to me that I had nothing interesting to
write about.
However, when a friend (Pat Dudley) mentioned
to me that her daughters had given her a lovely Journal in which to write what
it was like growing up in her day, it got me thinking that perhaps I should do something
similar for my girls.
After a little deliberation, I commenced
writing this on the 16th August, 2002. I really thought that I would have “my story”
completely finished within a few weeks. I didn’t expect to be able to remember so
much, and I have also discovered that one thought can lead on to another, and
so it goes.
So for my two caring, wonderful daughters
Sharon and Jeni and their families, I have tried to recall items, places and
events etc. the best I can, and hope that the following pages give an insight
into what it was like for me growing up in the 1950’s, 1960’s and until the mid
1970’s. As with Eric’s story, I will
stop mine with the arrival of Jeni. In
the future, if you wish to do so, you may have the opportunity to add your own
stories.
So that’s Pammy’s Introduction, and I will
say that while she refers to my book, I only began to write mine as a direct consequence of my beautiful Pammy
writing hers.
The actual layout for both books came from my
Aunty Margaret Lamb, who wrote a massive 11 volumes of her story – which she
called ‘Kewp’, named after the 1920’s Kewpie Dolls that were popular then – and
probably still are…
Aunty Margaret was married to my Uncle Arthur
Lamb, who was my mother’s brother. Margaret and Arthur had five brilliant boys
(including a pair of identical twins) – their names are Trevor, Peter, John,
Robert and Graham. (Peter and John are
the twins). All of these men are highly
Googleable! So do yourself a favour…
I took a photo of our two books, properly
printed on high quality paper and bound by Doncaster Bookbinders in Moorabbin,
as were all of Auntie Margaret's Kewp volumes.
Here's that photo…
Here's that photo…
Sadly, the photo-perspective of these books doesn't indicate their actual thicknesses - Pammy's is an impressive 2.8 cm thick, cover to cover, while mine is just touching 2.7 cm.
As you can probably see, Pammy’s book is called ‘Rambling Reminiscences of my Early Years’, and mine I called ‘A Past of Quaint Validity‘ (Pam had her name printed on the cover, mine didn’t – dunno why!) Pam's book has 233 pages, mine has a measly 199.
As you can probably see, Pammy’s book is called ‘Rambling Reminiscences of my Early Years’, and mine I called ‘A Past of Quaint Validity‘ (Pam had her name printed on the cover, mine didn’t – dunno why!) Pam's book has 233 pages, mine has a measly 199.
Pam and I went to quite a bit of trouble to
write the text and Doncaster Bookbinders produced four beautifully bound sets of each pair – one pair
for each of our girls, one pair for us (me, now sadly) and one pair to lend to
interested family/friends. Each contains
a plethora of informative text and plenty of B/W and colour pictures. (I only read Pam’s – again – yesterday and
the tears built up like you wouldn’t believe.)
She was the best wife I could have wished for – always happy and
smiling, beautiful, never complaining, loving and loved by everyone who knew her.
