THE SECOND TIME ACROSS



First Stop - Southern Cross

I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas day and are feeling hale and hearty after all that festive cheer. Looking forward to New Year’s Eve are we? Hmmm. Well, we had a most unusual Christmas and I have to say not at all as I expected. We finally left the metropolitan area of Perth on Saturday the 22nd and headed east along the Great Eastern Highway. Our first destination was Southern Cross, a small and historical mining town. Without consulting our maps and relying on my less than wonderful memory, I think Southern Cross is around 400ks east of Perth. Anyway we arrived there mid afternoon. Aside from the fact that the temps were probably in the low 30s and the flies plentiful, the caravan park was quite pleasant with good size drive- thru’ bays, reasonable ablution blocks and an attempt at some gardening and beautification.



No Spiders this time at Caiguna!




Telegraph Station Ruins - Eucla

 We had planned on staying the night at Southern Cross and as it turned out we would have had no choice in the matter. When we rolled into the main street there, we were confronted with a mild sort of chaos and a harried looking young cop stopping all east-bound traffic. It seems there had been a ‘semi’ roll over somewhere between Southern Cross and Coolgardie some 150ks further on, and the road was closed. The roll-over had occurred around 2am and they were not planning on opening up the road again until around 8.30pm. We were fortunate in our choice of staying and at 8.30 enjoyed the spectacle of all the waiting traffic taking off. The police, in their considerable wisdom, allowed all the cars to go first and then we were treated to the spectacle of somewhere around 30 semi’s all lit up with their myriad lights starting up and roaring off down the highway. It was quite thrilling in its own way. Ok, ok, we are a little starved for entertainment, but what the heck, it was ‘cool’! It was amusing (for us) to note that one harried truckie, having waited all day to get going, managed only around 50 meters before realising he had a flat tyre somewhere and he had to stop once again and change the tyre. You would have thought he would have noticed the flat whilst standing around chatting to all his mates. As we sat there watching the spectacle, we mused over all the new mates made that day, either in the one of the local pubs or over a pie and chips at the local cafe.
We still have not really heard the full story of the roll over. The best we can determine, there were two trucks involved one of which was allegedly carrying cyanide! We believe there were no fatalities, just major injuries. We did see the remains of two trucks as we traversed that section of road the following day, and certainly one of the loads was spectacularly mangled. Amazingly we could find no television news relating to the incident. Strange as so close to Christmas, one would have thought a road closure of that magnitude would have hit the press. Imagine all the people who were adversely affected by that one incident. As usual, luck was with us. Had we left on the Friday as anticipated, we would have been obliged to stay in Southern Cross for two nights and would have been no further ahead on our journey.

Happy Christmas from me

and Happy Christmas from him!

Oh yes, last you heard we were leaving on the Friday weren’t we? Hmmm, well just one of those last minute hiccups – we were having solar panels installed at the house and I needed to be there to sign all the relevant paperwork for Government rebates etc (as home – owner). The panels were supposed to be installed on the Thursday, but alas alack, there was an inevitable last minute delay and they weren’t installed until Friday. As I said, tho’, it turned out to be a positive as we had a lovely quiet day on Friday, resting up, then started out refreshed Saturday morning.
For the more technically minded of you (the blokes) we had a minor problem as we headed out. We have two Waeco fridges in the car, one turned down to freeze and the other simply at a refrigerator level. The car (Zed) carries two batteries so that as we are travelling, one feeds the fridges keeping them functioning as we drive. As luck would have it, neither fridge seemed to be operating while we were driving. This posed a major problem as we were carrying our Christmas lunch in the form of several very delectable and luscious crayfish, not to mention some succulent dhufish. DD was concerned as the battery concerned is somewhere around 3 years old and possibly just about due for replacement. He had the presence of mind however, to find a mechanically minded bloke at a tyre mob in Merredin who checked the relevant fuses. Yep, it was a fuse – we were very fortunate indeed to find that the local Covs was open and we were able to buy a replacement fuse. As luck would have it, we used to travel with a multi- meter and spare fuses, but in our manic endeavours (generally unsuccessful I might add) at downsizing our ‘stuff’ this time around, we (read DD) had left these very ‘unnecessary ‘items behind. One more little annoyance was that Zed had for whatever reason activated the child proof lock on his back door. This meant that in order to do anything at all, poor old DD had to climb in through the rear side door, remove a high percentage of our ‘stuff’ – and then access the rear locking device from inside Zed – in order to unlock the back door. Just a little thing to remember if like us you have a 100 series Land Cruiser! It seems this has happened to our lad once before – probably caused by ‘stuff’ in the back pressing up against the inside of the lock.

Looking out to the Southern Ocean from the CP Eucla

Sunday morning we hit the road bright and early, planning to stop the night at Fraser Range – we realised fairly quickly however that we were making such good time, we would arrive there far too early to be sensible. We continued on, planning to strike Cockle Biddy. We had for years been relating the story of how we stopped there on the way to Bree’s graduation and had been amazed at the spectacle of all the big black spiders wandering around on the ground outside the motel units. Imagine our amazement when we discovered that the place we had been talking about all those years had in fact not been Cocklebiddy, but Caiguna! We had been telling great big porky pies! Anyway, Caiguna is where we stopped on Sunday night and fortunately we spied no spiders this time around. The caravan park behind the units was pretty basic, just a flat cleared area with powered sites. No water of course. We had been unable to connect to water since leaving Southern Cross. At least this time, I was a little more realistic with water consumption and we managed very well.
We awoke each morning at an obscenely early hour! I would guestimate, somewhere around 4.30 am! This habit was acquired whilst staying in the Caversham CP and I guess we generally are early risers anyway. While we are actually travelling, it is a huge plus, as we hit the road somewhere around 7ish and make really good time. With this in mind, you won’t be surprised to learn we were on the road on Monday (Christmas Eve) well before 7am. We were (surprised that is) – as we had not bothered to look at any clocks it wasn’t until we had been on the road awhile while when we realised it was not yet 7am! Excellent!!


Nutbush Retreat - Pandurra Station

Our objective was Eucla around midday Monday – we managed this easily and by just after 12 noon we were comfortably ensconced at the Eucla CP. We were surprised by the quantities of water we spotted puddling alongside the road, and at the general lack of ‘road-kill’ . Predictably we did see more carcasses as we approached Eucla, this stretch being notorious for roos. The big bonus to seeing the sad remains of the roos, is the sighting of so many majestic Wedgetails. They are just magnificent of course, enormous birds, sitting proudly and sadly all too stubbornly on the victims of the huge trucks. Their ponderous flight as they eventually take off make them all too easy for the next truck to hit. I won’t do into how they are monogamous etc. as it is all too sad.

Amazing Desert Moon Coming up over the Flinders

Eucla was a complete surprise! Firstly it was truly cool. So cool in fact that the sleeveless top I bought to wear on Christmas day was too cool and I had to find something to throw over the top to keep me warm. We did not have to turn our air-con on once! DD kept saying we would have 40 plus temps here (along with snow apparently) and I kept thinking it would be relatively cool being so close to the ocean. No need to ask who was right!! The wind was the big problem (and bonus) as it comes in hard and strong straight off the ocean. This kept the temps and the flies down, but meant that it was very uncomfortable outdoors after around 3pm. It is easy to see why most of the low growing vegetation that thrives there, has a strange landward list.

Stunning Flinders Ranges

The big surprise was the view. I did realise there were ocean view from the roadhouse, but neither of us understood just how extensive those sea-views would be. From our high vantage spot on the edge of the escarpment we looked down across the flats and out to the Southern Ocean. The view was at least 180 degrees and spectacular. We estimate we were some 6 ks from the ocean if that. On Christmas morning we drove down to the old telegraph station ruins and clambered thru’ the sand dunes to explore the old buildings. As they are being slowly consumed by sand dunes, there is not a great deal left to see. It was however, very interesting and of course, thought provoking.
I guess, due to the season, we didn’t see many other travellers, at least very few Aussies. There seemed to be a fair number of overseas travellers on the road over the Christmas period, obviously making the best of their time here. Most Australians however, it would seem were home with family. This dearth of fellow travellers meant that for a good part of our time there, we were blissfully alone. The CP was quite separate and the servo and motel units were completely out of sight as was the owner’s home. We did hear their horses from time to time, chatting to each other and nickering for attention. Their dogs also made their presence known occasionally and access to the house was thru’ the CP so we did get just the odd vehicle charging thru’ the park on the way down to the house. Our solitude was only disturbed by the multitude of crows that live here. Unlike many others we didn’t mind the crows, there are heaps of young ones at this time of the year and their clumsy antics were entertaining. As usual we put water out for the birds and the crows thought it was Christmas!!!! Sorry!

Resting beneath a huge Red Gum at Melrose CP

Christmas Day 2012 has to have been our most unusual Christmas ever. We awoke early to find we shared the park with about 3 other couples. We filled our coffee cups and wandered around to chat to those few who were here. Most were busy getting ready to resume their travels, but we did find one couple who were happy to have a quick chat and exchange Christmas greetings. After that we jumped in the car and drove down to check out the telegraph ruins, then down the road to Bordertown to see what was happening there. Nothing much as it turned out! We did have an interesting chat to the bloke at the quarantine station there. This fella looked just like Father Christmas and he advised that the border crossing was only his ‘day job’. He was a nice man and gave us some good advice and reading material for when we make the crossing to Tasmania. We also bumped into a couple of the local constabulary. A lovely young couple with their rambunctious young dog; they told us they had been stationed here in Eucla for 3 months and were absolutely loving the lifestyle. The young woman had originally hailed from the west Yorkshire area – somewhat of a culture shock one would imagine. This was not their first country posting, but it was their most remote.
We were a bit disappointed that the roadhouses out here do not do anything for patrons for Christmas. They look after their own however, mostly closing for lunch on Christmas day and throwing parties for their staff. As far as we were concerned, we were quite fine with our own set up anyway, but we did feel for the truckies who still had to work on the day. It is nice to know tho’ the roadhouses generally look after their staff on the big day.
Of course you all know that we are at least mildly bonkers. You would have laughed had you seen us accosting one unfortunate couple who had pulled up in their van out the front of the roadhouse. We were heading out to Bordertown when we spotted them. We (as caravanners do) approached them, quickly engaged them in a conversation and then proceeded to try to convince them to spend the day here. At that stage we were looking for someone to celebrate with. Sadly they eventually declined. We rather suspect that they were put off by the strange antics of the odd old couple who tried to talk them into staying. Doubtless they thought we were deranged. We suspect more to the point, the bloke in the other van was reluctant to spend the money to stay in a CP – I guess he thought his $20 would be better spent elsewhere.
By the time we realised we had frightened them off we had decided we would rather spend the day alone anyway. Just to be contrary, we were then quite peeved when two vans and a couple of campers pulled in later in the day. No pleasing us I guess!
I managed to stop DD from eating much before we sat down to our sumptuous spread, but despite the fact that we were both very good during the day, we still felt stuffed with food after enjoying our meal of crayfish, ham, turkey and salad ; so stuffed in fact that neither of us could bring ourselves to try desert. Oh well – the hardship! We will just have to finish off the sweets today. Sad!! After stuffing ourselves, we filled our glasses and wandered out to chat. We are finding incidentally, that most of the overseas visitors currently seem to come from Germany. We chatted to the two caravan couples who had pulled in. They were a rum bunch as the saying goes – most of them were heavy smokers and we had to cut our visit short or be smoked out. It is now more than 10 years since I had a cigarette and I have to say, I really find it difficult to be anywhere around cigarette smoke – I seem to develop a bad headache in a remarkably short period of time.


Sheepish!

We wandered back to our van and sat inside watching rather poor telly (yes we do get some reception there thanks to the ‘dish’) and keeping our own company. I feel we rather let ourselves down not socialising more, but two things really prevented that. One was the super strong winds and the other was just a lack of like- minded nutters to spend time with. Oh well – I did remark to DD as we retired for the evening – I rather suspect we have both become super boring in our dotage. Weird, but boring!
I really missed my boys and their families on Christmas day. We were able to speak with both the boys and Bree and Doug ‘skyped’. Sadly we missed Trent, not quite being able to get our phone calls to correlate. Being away is great of course, but there is always a ‘cost’. This too, was my first Christmas since mum passed – I choose not to miss her however as I believe she is with us whenever she chooses. I’m sure she would have dropped in to share a drink and a view of the Southern Ocean!
We departed from Eucla on Thursday morning and spent that night at Penong just west of Ceduna. At Penong we had to use all our remaining fresh produce as we crossed the border quarantine station at Ceduna on Friday morning. Penong was quite a nice little park and we had our pick of the bays as we were the first to arrive there on the day. As that strong wind was still gusting in from the ocean, we were quite glad not to have to stay any longer in the very exposed CP. The surface there was crushed shell-grit, very white and dusty!
Friday morning saw us on the road again, passing without incident thru’ the Ceduna Quarantine Station early in the day. We missed out on our oysters there – we were told the oysters were busy spawning and so not available for our consumption. Bugger!! With our oyster yearnings unsatisfied, we continued on our trek finishing the day at a sheep and cattle station called Pandurra. This it seems is a very large establishment. As a side-line they have created a Caravan Park there. We had good reports from other travellers, but perhaps they had stayed there when the weather was a little kinder. It was OK and certainly the surrounding country-side is sensational. Enormous expanses of flat red earth studded with blue saltbush set the stage for sculptured blue and purple ranges rising straight up from the plains.
The Caravan Park is called Nutbush, the proprietors being named Nutte. The owners really let themselves down with an unfriendly attitude. I know that their lot is not always wonderful and to have to deal with scatty sheep, cagey foxes and the public in a dry and singed environment would not always be ‘fun’ and certainly lots of very hard work, BUT................ As another ‘camper’ mentioned, they spent the first 5 minutes telling us what we couldn’t do and where we couldn’t go ...........it would seem they could have made both their lot and our own more enjoyable with a pleasant greeting, a smile and simple explanation of how things worked. Ah well..... We stayed there two days as I wanted to get some washing done and then we moved on. It was an interesting albeit very small insight into life out there. We saw how difficult it seemed to be to keep their stock confined behind fences and we spotted one of the many foxes that apparently plague them there. We were treated to the spectacle of a beautifully trained and highly intelligent kelpie working the sheep.
We were at Nutbush at the rising of the full moon (DD did very well this time) and we were very spoiled watching Luna rise above the rugged and fantastically shaped ranges. The sky there, much like the Territory skies was shades of soft blues and lavenders as the full moon rose at sundown. Unfortunately DD’s wonderful camera was unable to capture the first night as the battery was flat. We did get some good shots the following night but sadly as the moon came up a little later we missed those wonderful colours.
Nutbush was some 40ks west of Pt Augusta. We left there around 8.30 Sunday morning and drove through the Flinders Ranges to a little tiny town called Melrose. That is where you find us now. Melrose is an historical town being the first town to be established in the Flinders Ranges. We are right at the foot of Mt Remarkable in a very pretty and shady Caravan Park. We arrived here at around 10am Monday morning intending to stay some 3 days.
The park is great, the trees are amazing, the tiny town is quaint and hot weather is coming. We have Telstra connectivity on both phone and computer, we are staying put! WA has had extreme hot weather over the Christmas period (as most of you know and experienced) and that weather is about to catch up with us. There is no pool here, but the air-con in the van will keep us cool. We see no point in travelling, hitching and un-hitching the van in the extreme heat. We are in no rush.
We met a lovely, inspiring and somewhat mad couple here last night, and a couple of sundowners turned into a couple of hours. Sadly our new-found friends had to leave this morning, but as they live down the road in Clare, we may catch up with them as we pass thru’ that region next week some time.
Today is New Year’s Eve and we celebrated by having lunch at one of the two local hotels. The food was not fantastic, but reasonable and well priced. It is wonderful now to have SA hospitality prices as opposed to the very pricey ones in WA. I know we are a boring old couple but DD is not into celebrating New Year and I am not enthusiastic enough to argue about it, so we will doubtless be in bed well before the clock strikes midnight.
An early night is quite worthwhile here as the dawn chorus here is exceptional and very hard to sleep thru’. An early morning cuppa with the birds will be a nice way to start the first day of 2013.
Well, there is so much more I could share with you, but as usual I seem to have written far more than is sensible. I will mention quickly tho’ that our plans to go almost straight to Tasmania may now change. We are slowly realising we are free agents and not compelled to follow any particular plan. Anything can happen now. Oh the freedom...................!!!!
Doug and I wish you all a wonderful, happy, healthy, prosperous and spiritually rich 2013. Until next time, Steph.

Golden fields stretch away to the Flinders Ranges

 

THE JOURNEY - STAGE TWO

Christmas time again!!! It is coming around quicker and quicker these days.

Doug and I wish you and yours a joyous and blessed Christmas and a happy, healthy and prosperous 2013.

This sure was one doozy of a year, don’t you think? For us it held some momentous events. Firstly we finally tied the proverbial knot and secondly we lost my Mum to cancer. Just to finish the whole thing off, my eldest son Brett has parted company from his wife Naomi. Certainly from our point of view there have been some dramas. Having said that tho’, I don’t wish to give the impression that the year was a bad one. After all, getting married was lovely and something we had been trying to ‘get around to’ for quite some time. Mum’s passing was ultimately a blessing for her and although I will always miss her, we are now free to continue our journey. As far as Brett’s marriage is concerned, I am terribly sad for him and the boys, but it is life altering certainly, but not life ending and many of us have moved on to much better lives after parting from ‘the wrong partner’.

In amongst all the major events, we did manage to get away to Denmark, Kalbarri and GreenHead for short breaks, and they are all beautiful destinations. We had some happy times spent with friends and family and our health has been good.

I inherited mum’s home and we have been super busy getting it in order for Brett to live in with his boys. That has been quite challenging. Now we have handed that particular baton on to Brett to carry on the good work. Brett will live in the house looking after it while we travel.

We have ,of latter weeks, also been trying to get the van and car ready for a long trip. A major storm which passed thru’ Perth a couple of weeks ago caused us a small delay when a random gust of wind picked up our awning and tossed it up onto the roof of the van. Fortunately there was no damage done to the roof, air-con or sky-lights, but the awning itself was wrecked. We have in short time claimed on our insurance and had the necessary repairs effected. I have to pay full homage to both our insurer (SGIO) and the repairer, Daniel at Applied RV Services for their speedy and diligent service.

I had vowed to lighten the load in the van considerably, but have to say I have been unsuccessful in this regard. Because of our destination, we are compelled to carry all weather clothing and that does take up quite a bit of space. Other than that, we keep finding ‘things’ that we simply cannot travel without. I think it is part and parcel of living in caravan parks. Everyone we meet seems to have one particular device which they just cannot live without and we get sucked into their enthusiasm and end up buying one for ourselves. Good examples of this would be the soda siphon which now lives with us, the little gas cooker which comes with its own tiny little gas bottle, just for quick stops and off road stuff and of course my new toy, the circulation boosting thingie that I put my feet on each evening! All these things are good things, but they each need their own little corner of the van, and quite frankly, we are running out of corners.

Do you realise, that we have now been living in our van for just over 3 years! It seems impossible, but we started off here in this caravan park in Forrestfield in November 2009. It seems appropriate that we leave from here once again.

We were supposed to hit the road today, but as these things go, there was a last minute hiccup. We are in the throes of having solar panels installed at the house and they were supposed to be done yesterday. Alas, a too busy schedule caused a log-jam for the installers and the panels are going on as we speak, today. We couldn’t leave before installation as I need to sign paperwork on completion of the work. Oh well, I guess it will be for the best – there must have been a good reason why we shouldn’t leave today. DD tells me there is an old sailing rule stipulating never to start a journey on a Friday.............well, perhaps we are just adhering to that rule. Now we will be striking out for Great Easter Highway tomorrow, Saturday.

The plan is to spend night one at Southern Cross, night two ad Fraser Range and night three (Christmas Eve) at Eucla. We will spend a couple of days in Eucla and then continue on our merry way thru’ South Australia, heading slowly down to the Spirit of Tasmania dock where we intend to board the ferry (van and all) and travel to the Apple Isle. We hope to spend somewhere around 6 months in Tassie. It will all depend, I think, on how the bloke handles the cold. Me, I think I will love it, but he does suffer from the cold. I know the cold will hurt all the joints, but at least I will feel like doing something. I find it difficult to get motivated when it is hot.

As before, we will blog our way around the country sharing the experience. For now however, have a wonderful and safe Christmas.

Steph & Doug

JANE ANNETTE MARY

Mum - 86th Birthday - Cottesloe

I was going to regale you with the story of mum’s life, but having re-read the eulogy, I think a great deal of what I would say is covered there. I will include it at the end for you to read. The Eulogy gives you the public face of Jane but I would like to tell you about my mother. As you know, I am an only child. Unlike many single children I was not spoilt by my mother, oh no, mum was a great believer in children being seen and not heard. She really didn’t want children and although she did love me, I had not been a welcome inclusion in her life. She after all had very poor role models as parents. Her own childhood was very unhappy, the only bright spark being her maternal grandmother whom she loved dearly. She did not love her own parents. Whilst I loved my granny, mum obviously had a very different experience than me. She once told me that if she had to meet her mother when she arrived in heaven she was not going! Typical mum! She was absolutely no hypocrite – the fact that someone had died did nothing to temper her poor opinion of them. I have to tell you, mum had a poor opinion of pretty much everyone.

When I was a little girl, she was a wonderful mum, she cared for me when I was sick, she read me wonderful poetry, she taught me to love nature and animals and showed me an appreciation of the written word. All these are wonderful gifts and I am more grateful than I can express here.

Fish 'n Chips at the Tavern

She was always bad tempered and she always ruled with an iron fist. She would brook no argument about anything. I once became very upset when I was around 12 years old and claimed indignantly to have a ‘right’ to something or other. What it was in my youthful passion I felt entitled to has been lost in the ether of time. What never left me however, was my mother’s subsequent rant, advising me that I had no rights whatsoever in this world. I was shattered. I suspect looking back, Mother may have had a drink or two or ten at the time. Yes, when mum went back to work, she learned to drink – a lesson she learned all too well. It stood her in very good stead as it enabled her to blot out any feelings or reality she would rather not deal with.

That was mum’s way – she blotted out anything she didn’t like. She did a great deal of blotting. There were a few road bumps along the way in mum’s life, as there are for most of us. She ignored them and just blotted. Her blotting worked very well for her, but was not always pleasant for those around her, particularly myself and my father. Mum did not necessarily get happy after a couple of drinks, quite the opposite in fact. I spent much of my teens trying to make sure she did not make good on her numerous threats to kill herself. I also spent a lot of time just trying to stay out of her way and as far away from her as possible. What I didn’t realise then was that in a rather strange way, this was another gift from my mother. I learnt resilience, independence and the capacity to enjoy my own company. These gifts turned out to be some of the greatest she gave me. I also found that I had a great deal of strength – one needed it to cope with mum sometimes.

From the Lookout - Esperance

When mum went back to work, and learned to love a drink, she also broadened her already considerable vocabulary. As a little girl, she would horrify me with the word ‘bum’ – she would tease me with it and it would send me in paroxysms of delicious horror. She was always a lady and as a lady taught me that there were some words a lady would NEVER use. The main word here was the Eff word. Somewhere around her 40th birthday, Mum decided that the Eff word was wonderful! She started to use it with the greatest aplomb, much to the horror of yours truly. I was a prim young thing, heavily involved with the Church and much affected by mum’s new word. The thing was, mum had a strong, Australian voice – very clear, very well enunciated and impossible to miss. Her grammar, diction and vocabulary were exceptional. Her deportment and dress were impeccable. Her attitude was deplorable! Her best episodes were invariably very public. I became a cringe-aholic, shrinking away every time mum made one of her unforgettable statements.

Valiently across the Valley of The Giants - 85th Birthday

It is a sad reflection that I was not mature enough to appreciate the fire-eater that was my mum. I was too young and too concerned about what others might think (something incidentally I learned from her) – now I can see the richness in her personality and can appreciate, albeit through the distance of time, what an amazing lady she was. Yes, despite the love affair with the eff word, she was always, but always, a lady. Pissed maybe, crabby definitely, difficult, impossible sometimes, but always a lady.

Mum had a pre-occupation with sex. She was the original virginal woman. She only ever had one man ..................why am I telling you this? Because if I had a dollar for every time she told me I would be a very rich old woman indeed. Mum put an enormous amount of importance on chastity and yet she wasted no opportunity to talk to me about sex. Another reason why I became such an expert on cringing! Not many young women wish to be regaled about the sexual escapades of their parents, iew!!! Yet, I was very familiar with my parents’ sex-life, or should I say lack of sex-life, as I was constantly informed as to the status. This is not the venue to expand on this subject, suffice to say it was uncomfortable. I don’t think I can even begin to tell you about her efforts when I was 10 to explain the facts of life!! Dogs featured!!

Both of us at the favourite watering hole.

During out mutual lives, mum and I had a couple of major fallings out. One in particular caused me an enormous amount of grief. Mum was a fairly insular person, and viewed life pretty much from her own perspective and she found it difficult to see anything from anyone else’s position. She held grudges and never really forgave any perceived hurt. For this reason, despite her love for me, there were things she took to her grave and never really forgave me for. For my part, I recognise that within mum’s make up there were things over which she had little or no control – what would be the point of holding them against her. I have always maintained that we ‘love people despite’ not ‘because’ – I think perhaps having mum in my life was instrumental in that lesson.

Mum and I became immeasurably closer after the death of my Father. There are reasons for this that will not be aired here and now, suffice to say we became much, much closer. A great deal of the thanks here must go to my wonderful husband Doug. Doug came back into my life not very long after dad died. Thanks to DD, we had a great deal to do with Mum. As she became more and more frail, so we became more and more involved with her life. Doug was wonderful with mum and she was inordinately fond of him.

Uncharacteristically Maternal!

Mum didn’t travel, in fact until we intervened, I doubt that apart from one trip to Geraldton for her honeymoon and one trip to Norseman to see her mother in law, she had never been further than say 100 ks from the Perth CBD. She lived within a 15k radius from her place of birth. In many ways, she lived a very small life. We tried to broaden her horizons a little and took her with us on a few jaunts, Esperance, Walpole and Augusta featured. Of course, there was the infamous Mother and Daughter wildflower trip up to Kalbarri last year as well.

Mum with Daniel - the Young and the Old.

Due to our heavy involvement in her life in latter years, and my presence during her chemotherapy treatment, mum and I had the opportunity to mend many of our broken fences. We became extremely close towards the end of her life. It evolved that despite the fact we were diametrically opposed on many, many issues, we also had strong mutual beliefs in a multitude of areas. We also learned we could agree to disagree, well.................perhaps not, but after all we were Mother and Daughter!

I loved my Mother dearly and deeply and I will miss her immeasurably. She was difficult and often very hurtful, but she was My Mum and a ‘one off’. We are happy to have a measure of our freedom returned to us, but I have to say, the price is a steep one.

Just before I close this episode, I will briefly share with you some of the classic statements mum made during her 87 years on this earth. I hope you enjoy them as in retrospect, do I.

Comment made while showing one of my girl-friends around her garden.

Kim – “This is an unusual looking plant Jane”



Jane – “Yes, they look like little dicks don’t they?”

At a very upmarket restaurant my first husband and myself had mistakenly taken mother to – at a table close to us was a small wedding party – a very young and pretty blonde and a distinctly older gentleman.

Mother in very loud and audible whispers “Why is she marrying that old bastard? He’s old! Why would she marry him?”

At the airport in Perth as we were saying goodbye to my younger son who was returning to Victoria for his continued Navy training. The airport was filled with very large black American servicemen. Very loudly :-

“They’re all effing black!” (mother never abbreviated the eff word, so read in full if you will)

Sitting around my lounge room one evening in the presence of several of my best friends and my sons and mates. Reference to an ex of mine :

“I thought he had been thru’ all of you” – referring to what she perceived as his sexual experiences.

At a party my thrown by my first husband and myself not long before our marriage folded. Picture a deep ‘conversation pit’, filled with our friends, mother’s very late arrival, she, poised at the top of the steps, gently swaying, very loudly stating to my husband :-

“Yeeees, I saw the car with the eeeeeffffffing eye-lids” referring to John’s new sports car.

And last but by no means least, departing my eldest son’s 21st birthday dinner. Venue, very upmarket golf club, present, my best friend and her husband who was the president or some such thing of the club, all my other friends, all my sons’ best mates, around 50 or so other unrelated diners.

“My grandsons do not approve of my drinking, well, I don’t approve of their fucking”

Sorry, abbreviated, it just would have lost a great deal of its punch.

The Eulogy

Thank you all so much for coming to farewell my mother, Jane. Looking around the room I know how happy she must be seeing you here.

How on earth can I do justice to the amazing woman she was. Jane was a ‘one off’, an original and somewhat of an enigma. I can pretty much guarantee that each of you here knew a slightly different person to the mother I knew and loved.

Jane was born in 1925 in East Guildford. Her parents were Bob and Annie Horner. They were a young couple trying to establish a vineyard in Vine St Herne Hill. The house they lived in was at that time little more than a shack and totally unsuitable for a young mother and baby girl. Because of this Jane spent most of her early years with her maternal grandmother in Middle Swan. In Bishop Rd lived not only her beloved granny (who we all still know as ‘dear old granny’), but also a variety of aunts, uncles and cousins. Jane would often recall how this family group seemed very much to her as she would have imagined an English village. She loved being there.

When Jane was two years old she contracted diphtheria – it was an early indication of her tough physical make up that she not only recovered but became the bane of many of the Swan kids.

Jane’s father was a harsh and intractable man and had little love for his daughter. This made her home life tough indeed. More and more she gravitated to the family group in Middle Swan. Through this diverse and somewhat eccentric mob of Mountjoys Jane learned the love of literature, particularly poetry, the appreciation of the world around her and through the eclectic groups of folk that gravitated to the family, a keen and early interest in world events and politics. These interests were to stay with her for the remainder of her life.

By today’s standards Jane’s childhood would have constituted child abuse. She, her sister Suzie and their numerous cousins and mates had a freedom unparalleled today. The Swan Valley was their playground, and the River their swimming pool. Granny, Jane’s mother would pack them a dripping and onion sandwich and they would take off for wild adventures returning only with the setting sun and empty bellies. Houghtons was Fergie’s Forrest and Jane and her sister part of the Fergies Forrest Gang. Along with their four footed ally Peter they would wage many a war along the way.

Jane had a keen intelligent mind, an innate curiosity and a determination to succeed in all she undertook. She attended Herne Hill Primary and there developed a reputation as an excellent student and a fighter. She never received a mark below 90% and she sent many another child packing with a good belt or a ‘dong’ on the head with her trusty lunch box.

From Herne Hill Primary she moved on to Midland School and stayed there until finally moving to Perth Tech to learn shorthand and typing. Jane would have loved to go on to higher learning, or failing that, the services, but alas her father who never lightened his attitude towards his eldest daughter would hear of no such foolishness.

As with all her other pursuits, Jane dedicated herself to her secretarial studies and as usual passed every exam with flying colours. Early in the piece she adopted the practice of converting every word she saw into shorthand, even taking down the evening news. Right up until her passing, she would make shorthand notes.

Jane, by now in her late teens, was a classic beauty. Sadly she always considered herself to be ‘plain Jane’. Her lack of confidence combined with a somewhat prickly exterior doubtless discouraged many a young man intent on getting to know her better. She was still to some degree a tomboy, and she still believed she was as good as any old boy. A classic example of this attitude was one day at the Middle Swan Bridge – the one that has just been replaced – all the local boys and girls were swimming and diving off the bridge which even then was a considerable height above the water’s surface.

To prove she was tougher than all the rest Jane climbed to the very top rail from where she dove into the river. It seemed an eternity before she reached the water and as you do, she lifted her head to see just how far away she was from the water’s surface. You guessed it, just as she lifted her face, she met the water. Needless to say, despite the exquisite pain, she surfaced, red faced, but grinning.

Jane’s first job was with the very upmarket department store Bon Marche. Here she worked in the office and due to her usual diligence and strong abilities she moved up the ranks. Her great ambition however was to become a legal secretary and to this end she applied for every possible position in that arena. By now, the Second World War was being waged and Perth saw its first influx of American Servicemen. Jane recalled how on that first day all the office workers flowed into the streets at lunch time to gawk at the men, not quite knowing what to expect them to look like.

Jane finally achieved her ambition and secured a position with the legal firm Unmack & Unmack. The dearth of young men enabled her to progress there fairly quickly.

War time in Perth, despite it’s great distance from the rest of the world saw a frenetic night life. Jane and her sister loved to dance and both taught dancing in the evenings. You can imagine, it was no mean feat getting from the Swan to Perth for an evening’s entertainment in those days. Essentially the Swan Valley was country and transport sporadic at the best. Youth however is determined to party and so they coped.

Eventually Jane met her young man, Allen, and in April 1949 they were wed. They moved into a tiny house in George St Midland. The house belonged to Allen’s mother and was to be a temporary move until such time as they could afford a deposit on a home of their own. Jane was always a good money manager. Despite the meagre pay brought home by Allen, a coppersmith at the Midland Workshops, Jane was confident she could save the deposit required.

Have I mentioned that our Jane, was not necessarily a gentle or sweet soul? Hmm, her temper was within family ranks, at least, legendary. Despite all good intentions, in September that same year, she discovered she was pregnant. Thrilled? Hardly! She was furious, and of course, the blame was placed firmly at Allen’s feet. Jane was not the maternal type, and nor did she love children. Hardly surprising considering her own childhood!

The plans for a new home were somewhat delayed and as nature had planned, Jane gave birth in June the following year to a baby girl. Despite her reluctance to embrace motherhood, Jane discovered to her own amazement that she did indeed love her little girl and became a diligent mother.

In those early years of her marriage Jane applied her usual determination to being the best wife and mother she knew how to be. She became an excellent seamstress, a great cook, a keen gardener, a good money manager and her home was always immaculate.

Through those early years, even before the birth of her daughter, Jane’s constant companion was a big tabby cat named Tiger. Jane never knew half measures and she loved this puss dearly. Generally however, she was a dog person and for the entirety of her adult life, she had a serious of four footed children who were dear to her.

The little family did well, and did finally purchase a brand new Housing Commission house in Koongamia. Jane was not particularly happy about having to buy into a Housing Commission home, but being a practical soul, could see no other way of procuring a home of their own. The family moved into their home in 1955. Five years later, financial pressures came to bear, and Jane reluctantly returned to the workforce.

A rebirth of a sort happened here. Jane went back to being a legal secretary, working for Brian Smith solicitors in Midland. A succession of jobs followed this one, finally culminating in her becoming the personal legal secretary to one of the senior partners of the prestigious legal firm Parker & Parker.

A new found confidence, some pocket money, a new wardrobe and a degree of independence affected Jane profoundly. She learned to enjoy herself. As her daughter was now in her teens, some freedom was perceived and it was party time. Jane, who had until this time been pretty much a teetotaller, learned to enjoy a drink. Her confidence expanded exponentially. She loved her clothes and always was immaculately presented.

Jane’s daughter married and left home and in time had two sons, who later gave Jane 5 great grandchildren.

Eventually, Jane & Allen retired and moved to a new home in Swan View, where she lived until the end of her life. Allen pre-deceased her by 11 years. During those autumn years Jane and Allen joined the local garden club and after Allen’s death Jane joined the Midland Library Group.

The last couple of years were tough ones for Jane as despite good general health, Macular Degeneration caused a decline in eyesight and reading and driving became so much harder. Regardless of that, with the companionship of her beloved and insane Staffie, Sparky, Jane made the best of things.

That was the bare bones of Jane’s life. She lived her entire life in and around the Swan Valley. It may seem on the surface, pretty tame and maybe even a little boring.

All of us here know tho’ that there was absolutely nothing tame or boring about Jane.

She was an incredible, brave, stalwart, outspoken, sometimes abraisive, funny, amazing, verbally adept, highly intelligent and always interesting woman.

Jane was the eternal enigma. She professed to be racist – and yet her friends come from all nationalities and walks of life.

She was notoriously inhospitable, hating to invite anyone into her home. Yet – anyone who ever did enter her portals would attest to the fact that once inside, she never wanted you to leave. I can tell you all now, that the reason she never invited you over, was that she always believed her home was not good enough for visitors. It was most certainly not because she didn’t enjoy your company.

She professed to hate people – yes, many of you here would have heard her make that statement on many an occasion – Yet, she was the most social of people, she was interested in everyone and just loved to talk.

She was prickly, unresponsive and invented the term ‘stiff upper lip’ – yet, she loved deeply and craved love and affection from those around her. Sadly she didn’t express this well.

All these things were Jane, but what I haven’t really touched on was her amazing capacity to make people laugh. She had an incredible turn of phrase, and she used the English language and all the accompanying swear words like a true wordsmith. Her outstanding ability to tell a story, warts and all, in any company was legendary. Each and every member of the family, and close friends would have at least one hilarious story to tell of Jane’s statements.

I will close with the last of these, and I’m sure you will all forgive my lapse of good manners in the telling of this story, as it epitomises Jane and her personality.

When this illness first manifested itself, Doug and I were away for a couple of weeks and mother was compelled to take a taxi into Royal Perth Hospital. Her driver was Turbanned Indian Siekh. As was her practice, Jane took the front passenger seat next to the driver. This practice of hers must have unnerved many a taxi driver over the years.

Anyway, she, as was her way, became involved in an animated conversation with this worthy gentleman and he proceeded to regale her with the lurid story of his arranged marriage gone wrong. It seems his bride to be was sent out to Australia to marry him and he dutifully brought her gifts and tried to impress her with his very worthwhile character. It seems the young lady was not particularly impressed even when he purchased for her a mobile phone. The story culminated at the steps of RPH with the frustrated driver declaring in outraged tones, “And I even brought her an F’ing Mobile Phone” – you just know that mother didn’t abbreviate this story as I have, when regaling all and sundry of the tale. The next time I went into the hospital with her, we saw a delightful young registrar, who appeared to be the gently reared prodigy of an aristocratic English couple. I might add, he seemed to both of us to be oh, around say 16 years old! Jane greeted this young man with the words “Thank God you are white and Australian!” and then went on to regale him with the full unabridged story of the Indian Taxi Driver. The young Dr turned the prettiest shade of pink I have seen in a long while as he seemed to melt into his chair. I rather doubt he had ever heard a female use THAT word, let alone an elderly, elegant woman with the appearance of a retired school mistress.

In the last couple of months of her life, Jane became my Warrior Queen. She accepted the news of cancer with typical stoicism and courage. Although she knew chemotherapy would be tough, she sailed ahead full steam and gave it her best shot.

I hope that like me, you can only be happy for her, that it is all over, and she is now with those she loved so much. Cherish the memories you have of Jane for I believe our lives shall all be depleted by her absence.



Thank you for your indulgence in my reminiscences – I hope that I did not bore you too much and that you found a degree of enjoyment there. Until next time, love your mothers, or at least remember them fondly – like it or not, they are an integral part of who you are.

Steph

GOOD BYE MUM

Mum's Best Mate

The weeks following mum’s death were hectic to say the least. There was just so much to do. You have to remember here that I am an only child. There is nobody else to share the load, or I suppose, to fight over the spoils with. I will split this section into two, the first half I will deal with the day to day things that have to be done following the death of a loved one. Perhaps it will help someone else one day. I confess I had no pre existing knowledge here whatsoever and so it was all a big learning curve. The second half I will dedicate to Mum.

The first few days after mum passed were spent telling people. The number of sad phone calls were innumerable – just one after the other, telling pretty much the same story and fielding the same questions. The hardest task we had was dealing with The Wombat. Mum and I had many long discussions about what would happen to Sparky after she left. She had often expressed the opinion they were ‘running neck to neck to the finish line’. Mum, we felt often imagined Sparks to be much worse than he really was; he was however at least 12 years old and suffered many of the ailments old dogs suffered. Mum had found Sparks at the local vets and he had been picked up off a busy highway having been struck by a car. His hindquarters had been severely impacted. As an old dog, he felt the pain in his back leg particularly and like mum, could only walk short distances. He was a happy old beast nevertheless, like mum quite neurotic and extremely set in his doggie ways. As I was saying, mum and I discussed his future many times and her wishes ultimately were that when she went, he would follow. It’s amazing how easy that sounded when she was alive and it was only a concept! When it came to the crunch however, it was a very different reality. The only things that kept me on the straight and narrow were I suspected Sparks had a serious health issue himself, all to do with his Doggie workings. I could see a swelling where there should be no swelling and had been conscious of it for a little while. I had not mentioned it to mum as I didn’t wish to add to her troubles. He was in constant pain from his back leg and hip. All of this very practical stuff was further enhanced by my belief that when we reach the other side, our beasties can join us there. I know this is heretic by many people’s belief systems, but it is intrinsic to mine. Mum shared my belief.

So, Mum left us early Tuesday morning, by Wednesday evening, Sparks had joined her. As DD and I knelt on the hard floor at the veterinary surgery, cuddling the large black wombat like dog, whispering sweet nothings in his doggie ear, the vet wielded the green needle and I asked mum to come and take her best friend. It was one of the very hardest things I have ever had to do. Both Doug and myself were brought undone by our actions. The only good thing about it is that we knew it was the right thing to do and it was mum’s wishes.

Mum had expressly asked for a ‘nice funeral’. We happily complied with this wish. I tell you what tho’, Death is an expensive business and I suspect a very profitable industry to be associated with. We needed to hold the funeral in the Midland area so that all mum’s garden club and library club mates could come along, bearing in mind that the few she had not outlived, were limited in their own mobility. There are only two funeral directors in that area so we had little option but to speak to them both and then select the best package. We elected to use Purslowe Funeral Directors, partly because we instantly felt at home when we walked into their premises, and not a little because the delightful woman who assisted us was called Stephanie. It felt karmic somehow. Without being too crass, I would like you to know that a fairly simple funeral cost approximately $8,600 and that was with a discount for speedy payment. They did us proud tho’! The casket was not one of their more expensive models, but simple and elegant. We had a beautiful spread of flowers in pink tones that covered around two thirds of the casket. I wrote the eulogy and somehow managed to read it on the day. We had bookmarks made with mum’s photo on them – they were lovely – I still have at least 50 of them to pass on to people who did not make it to the funeral and for posterity.

As these things go, the day was a success. I suppose there must have been between 30 and 40 people there, largely from the garden club. I was disappointed that none of the older members of the family managed to attend, with of course the exception of mum’s sister Suzie. My boys and their wives were there, as was Doug’s son Trent and his wife. I really appreciated their attendance, and I was almost overwhelmed when my very good friends also came along to say goodbye, even some who had never met Mum. It is at times like that you really appreciate true friendship. We made sure we had ‘nice cake’ (long story) for the ladies and it was demolished with considerable gusto. The celebrant was delightful, a gentleman in the true sense of the word, and of our own vintage. All in all, the funeral was pretty, elegant and simple – Mum would have been very pleased. One of the most amazing things was the presence of an old boss of hers. I was absolutely blown away when he introduced himself. Mum would have worked for him no less than 30 years ago. Incredible! I am really peed off that I cannot discuss this amazing event with her. We would have spent many happy hours dissecting that one!!

Mum appointed The Public Trustees as her Executors and we duly went off to see them. I have mixed emotions about this. Certainly they make things pretty easy for us, but certainly also, they don’t miss with their charges. They will take around $6000 for their efforts. Considering mum’s estate is minimal, that is pretty heavy I think. All that is involved is the house, a single vehicle and a very minimal amount of cash (all absorbed by the funeral and the Trustees).

Mum bless her little cotton socks, had never dealt with my father’s ashes, and expected me to sort out both his and hers. She specifically didn’t want to be ‘scattered’ and left instructions in the Will as to the placement of her Ashes. She simply wished them to be placed at the local cemetery along with fathers’. Would you believe that a simple plaque on the ground covering the ashes costs in the vicinity of $1600!! Incredible! Especially as I don’t even believe in gravesites and the like! We still have to deal with that little task. Currently all three lots of Ashes are sitting in a cupboard in Mum’s house, Mum’s, Dad’s, and Sparkies. It is my intention to put Spark’s ashes with mothers. I dare say I will have to keep that a secret from the cemetery people!

The cleaning out of mum’s house is a monumental task and one that will take me quite a bit of time. We are currently taking a little break and have spent a couple of weeks in Kalbarri and are now visiting our ‘wedding party’ in GreenHead. When we get back to Perth we will have to resume this big job. I am not looking forward to it, but will tell you more along those lines at a later date. Mum’s house and belongings are a story in themselves.

OH MUM!!!!

This is very hard to write about, but the story must be told, so here I go. Monday morning, after being absent from mum’s for just over a week, I decided in desperation I just must go. Against all sensible judgment I drove down to see mum that morning. I was still coughing. I had told her I would be there as soon as the mucus cleared – each evening she would hopefully ask how I was and each time I would be compelled to tell her I was still unwell and that I would review the situation the following morning. Sunday evening I had felt a bit better and had given her hope I would be there in the morning.

One of the gauges we used, both Mum and me, as to her state of health, was her ability or inability to fetch the morning papers from the front yard. On Sunday she had told me she had not been able to manage that job. She had also told me she had fallen over on Friday evening, not hurting herself, but nevertheless giving herself a fright. Me too! DD had been there on the Saturday and she had seemed OK. I was desperate about her by now and determined to be there on Monday. I left home armed with a couple of masks, and lots of hope. I stopped on the way to mum’s to buy her a toasted cheese sandwich (one of the few things I could get her to eat). I also had various other little treats for her.

I can‘t tell you how many times that morning I thought I should turn back. I knew I really shouldn’t have been going there, but I felt powerless to stay away. She really did need me. When I drove into her driveway, my spirits were raised as there was no sign of either the Sunday or Monday paper in the front yard.

As usual I let myself into the house. All was in darkness. An overwhelming bad smell pervaded and chaos seemed to be reigning around the normally tidy house. Mum’s walking stick was lying across the sitting room floor, Sparks was behaving in a strange manner, Mum’s pink beanie was laying in the passage, as were both her slippers. With fear mounting I followed the chaotic trail to her bedroom. Across the bed lay all the newspapers, and Mum. She was only partly covered by a sheet, and it looked as if Sparks had been trying to pull the blankets and sheets from her in an attempt to waken her. The overwhelming bad smell was explained by the fact that she was covered in faeces. The whole bed seemed to be in trouble! Mum was breathing but unresponsive. I immediately called an ambulance. It seemed to take forever for it to arrive – I dare say it was only around 10 minutes. In that time I managed to move our car from the driveway to allow access and to put the manic dog outside. On the advice of the triple zero people I went back to mum and she had by now turned onto her back, so I moved her back onto her side. She was by now mumbling a few words.

The ambulance arrived complete with two very young male medicos. They seemed so very young to be looking after my mother. I have to say they were wonderful, especially considering the state she was in. It was not a pleasant task for any of us as one of the young men and I started to clean mum up a little prior to taking her in the ambulance. Buckets of warm water, an abundance of disposable gloves and the ability to breath without smelling anything were prerequisites. One of the young men absented himself during this process, ostensibly to arrange the stretcher. Mum’s nightie was cut from her and I have to say the young man was considerate in the extreme in his handling of mum. Mum was by now communicating with us a little. She was distressed to know she was going to hospital and bemused as to how we knew she had been ill during the night. She seemed at this point in time to be reasonably coherent. Blissfully for her she had no idea of the state she was in. I am so thankful for this mercy as she was a fastidious person and would have been horrified and mortified had she known.

I am not sure why I feel compelled to tell this sordid side of the story, but I think it is to let you know, because I didn’t, that death when it comes to those you love, doesn’t come in any way you might have previously imagined. As I was spending so much time with Mum, and as it had always been my intention to be with mum when the end came (I always promised her she would not be alone), I guess I imagined that the end would be a peaceful and serene experience for mum and one of quiet sadness for me. Not so!

The ambulance men felt the best thing would be to take her to RPH as that was where she was being treated. I sent with them all the relevant paperwork to make the transition easier on their arrival at the hospital. Neither they nor I felt there was any real emergency. They were even discussing the likelihood of her being discharged once she had been checked out. We all seemed to be of the opinion that the diarrhoea was an outcome of a bacterial infection and that once treated she would be OK. This belief I think was engendered by the fact she was more or less communicating with us.

I had called Doug and he duly arrived at Mums after the ambulance had left. By then I had thrown away most of mum’s bedding, washed what I felt was worth washing and generally cleaned up as much as I could. The still overwhelming odour was partly explained when I found two particularly large and revolting piles of dog poo in the lounge room. Once again the rubber gloves came out and once again I scrubbed. Sparks smelt of mum. I suppose he had been all around her trying to wake her. It was revolting and my mind was turning cartwheels imagining what had gone on before I arrived.

Anyway, with a change of clothes (DD bless him) off we went to the hospital. We were probably only half an hour behind mum and feeling confident that would be OK. When we arrived at Emergency we had a bit of a wait before I could talk to anyone. As we were in the grip of a flu epidemic, the ambulances were ‘ramped up’ out the front. I didn’t even know if mum had been admitted. Finally I managed to see someone and was taken directly into the Emergency ward to see mum. I was greeted by an extremely serious (and thank goodness, mature) Dr – he was the one in charge of Emergency that day. I was told that Mum was very, very ill indeed. I have to say, I was quite shocked. They were basically telling me to prepare myself for the worst. The diarrhoea was still pouring out of her, and I overheard them telling each other that her organs had all shut down.

The Dr in charge asked me if Mum and I had discussed ‘escalated treatment’ – I explained Mum’s attitude was absolutely no resuscitation – he agreed, we agreed. I was so shaken at this time. I had been standing by Mum‘s side in Emergency for probably an hour or so by now. Having had this very serious and scary discussion with the head Dr, I was then accosted by a young Registrar who worked under the Lymphoma specialist. He had been talking to Mum’s Dr and they wanted her to go to Intensive Care for treatment. This was diametrically opposite to what the other Dr and I had already agreed. Once again the Dr in charge and I discussed the matter. His opinion was unchanged and I really felt terribly conflicted about what was happening. Around this time the young Registrar came back to me and told me in whispered tones that he had been wrong earlier and that he hadn’t been able to speak openly. I think he was spoken to by the leading Dr and told a few facts of life that day. Ultimately, he and I agreed that we would most likely not send mum to ICU, but to confirm our decision, have a scan done to determine whether or not, as we suspected, Mum had suffered a major stroke.

The scan confirmed our worst and it was agreed that they would cease all treatment. Mum was to go to a quiet ward where she would simply be kept comfortable.

Finally in the early evening, this is what happened. I had spent most of the day at mum’s side in emergency and finally they had her transferred, with me at her side, to the stroke ward. There I kept vigil. We were told that it could be days or as little as hours. Mum’s breathing was quite laboured and I was promised that if it became too harsh, they would administer an injection which would make it easier for her.

I found I couldn’t leave Mum. I sent Doug home as he needed to feed Sparky and also to go home himself to take his medication. He left the hospital around 8pm. I stayed by Mum’s side, asking for and getting the injection to ease her breathing, somewhere around midnight. The various nursing staff were very kind, both to me and Mum. Having seen what had happened to her earlier in the day, I must confess, my words to Mum during that day and night were to leave. I didn’t want her to come back and find out how I had found her and what sort of state she had been in during the day. I just didn’t want her to ever have to deal with that. She had told me only a few weeks before that she was ready to go, looking forward to it and had no fear. I knew she wanted to go.

To comfort Mum the best I could, I just held her hand, rubbed her arm and generally tried to let love flow between us. At about 1.25 I took my eyes off her for a few minutes to rest my head against the bed and when I looked up, her breathing had ceased. I sought out the nurse in charge and had her come to see mum. She was very surprised it had been so quick and confirmed my belief that Mum had gone. She kindly left me alone with Mum for as long as I wished to stay and also had a Dr verify Mum’s death.

I stayed with Mum for 15 minutes or so, but I didn’t feel that she was still around. When I left her, I thought I would leave Doug to sleep for a while before calling him to come and get me, and wandered off to try and find a coffee or some such thing somewhere in the hospital. I should have remembered that not only is there nothing like that at night in that big old place, but it is locked up tight and it is almost impossible to find an exit that is open.

I meandered around that place like the lost soul I felt I was, standing in the big passage way above Wellington St, looking out at the lights and the late night traffic. I felt lost and empty. Nothing had been like I expected it to be. I had expected to feel some sort of passing when Mum finally left, but there was absolutely nothing. I found I couldn’t cry I was just numb. I am not sure how long I wandered around for, finally I found an orderly who directed me to an obscure exit near the Emergency Department. There I sat for a while and then finally called Doug to come and get me. It is a good hour to hour and a half drive from the farm, so I just sat, staring into space until such time as that good man arrived. We were I think, both numb. We stopped to get a coffee at an all night drive in servo and drank quietly as we drove home.

From Mum’s perspective, it was relatively quick, and she knew nothing of what was going on around her. I guess none of us can wish for a great deal better than that. I am just sorry I was not there for her in that last week. It seems unbelievable, when I was there so much for her, that I was not there then. I am sorry too that she had to endure that chemotherapy before dying. Her last few months could have been so much better.

One little shining light was that only a matter of weeks before she died, I rocked up at her place one glorious winter morning, announced it was indeed ‘a gradely day’ and whisked her into Zed for a drive in the beautiful sunshine. It was one of those wonderful mornings that make you happy to live in Perth, and more particularly The Swan Valley. White clouds skittered across the clear blue sky, throwing deep blue shadows dancing across the Darling Range. Gnarled vines resplendent in orange and gilded with gold danced in the light breeze. The day was a veritable gift, given for our pleasure and enjoyment.

I drove around the Swan and mum had a walk down memory lane. We finally bought lunch at a little cafe and took ourselves to All Saints Churchyard. All Saints is a pretty little church (the oldest in WA) sitting on the banks of the upper reaches of the Swan River. The walls and gravestones there are littered with names of our forbearers and their friends and relatives. The names there are the names of my childhood gleaned from the numerous stories told to me by mum. All Saints is and has long been one of my very favourite places on this earth. The churchyard is scattered with old gravestones, venerable rose bushes and lilies. Enormous old trees stretch their limbs to the sky in humble praise, the bare earth below them scattered with their leaves and gumnuts. The tiny church there has managed to stay humble – it is not over adorned with the ostentatious trappings that so many churches wear. Sitting in the pews there I feel the peace and communion shared by the other souls who have sat their backsides on those shiny wooden seats and stared at the simple stained glass windows with love.

Mum and I sat on one of the seats kindly provided in the churchyard and ate our simple fare. We were joined by a young woman who was there to try to capture the beauty with her camera. As she was also a mobile hairdresser, she and mum had an interesting chat. Mum was always very interested in other people and had an insatiable curiosity.

The day was a delight, and mum referred to it frequently in the following weeks. She and I agreed, it was indeed a gift from God, and I will be eternally grateful for that little break in the horror that composed the last couple of months of mum’s life.