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