52 Weeks of Personal Genealogy & History – Home

Week 4: Home. Describe the house in which you grew up. Was it big or small? What made it unique? Is it still there today?

I wonder how many of us lived in the same house all through childhood? I didn’t. I lived in four different houses from when I was born until I finished school and left home. I don’t remember one of them; I was too young and we weren’t there long.

My first houseThe first house that I remember was in Carss Park, in southern Sydney. It was underneath the flight path and I remember planes flying over and scaring my younger sister. It was close enough to the local school that we could walk, and we had to climb up a lane through to the street behind to get there.

I don’t remember much about inside the house, except for the front hall, where I lost the key to my teddy bear in between the floor boards and the front step. I was devastated! I also remember the lounge room with a green sofa. I vaguely remember the doors to the bedrooms but not the rooms themselves. I shared a room with my sister and remember her waking up in the night. The front of the house was a verandah that had been closed in, according to my Dad. I don’t remember it being anything other than the room where my Nanna lived, although she didn’t always live there.

It had a great backyard for young kids to play in, and a patio with crazy paving that we used to roll marbles on. There are lots of photos of us in the backyard, and I’ve just realised that this one, of my Nanna and three of us kids, is back to front. I scanned it from a negative and I couldn’t tell which way it went, but I’m pretty sure there should be a shed in the back corner.

Looking at the house now on Google Maps I can see it has a swimming pool and most of the yard is gone. It seems to be a much bigger house than it was, taking up the full width of the block, although I can see the flat roof of the garage so that must still be there in some form.

My house on Google Maps My husband and I drove by there a few years ago and the strange rounded front of the house had been built over. Now I can see it on Street View and it looks a bit run down, as do the others in the street. The house next door that the strange old lady lived in has been replaced by a castle that looks totally out of place. The house is only a couple of blocks from the beach on Kogarah Bay so I’m a bit surprised that the areas looks as depressed as it is. Perhaps the houses are too small. Ours must have had only two bedrooms until Dad closed in the front verandah, and who wants a two-bedroom house?

I prefer to remember the house as it was.

When I was six we moved to Dubbo, to the house I showed in the previous post. This is the house I think of as The House I Grew Up In. I still dream about it.

Our house

Dubbo is hot in summer and that house was sometimes unbearably hot. The room I shared with my sister was built on after the rest of the house and had a tin roof that made it hotter than the rest of the house. I can remember lying in bed at night with the curtains pushed aside waiting for the slightest breeze to come in the window.

In winter it was cold, and we had a fire, and later a oil heater. It had three bedrooms and one bathroom, smaller than the house I live in now, although the rooms were bigger. My brothers shared one room and my mother had the master bedroom. My brothers’ room had two entrances so you could walk through from the dining room to the bathroom and Mum’s room. Houses are designed differently now and it is rare to walk through a bedroom to get to other parts of the house, but I remember other houses with similar layouts.

It had a large front verandah and a huge back yard that my brothers played cricket in. We had chooks and a succession of dogs, and a cat who lived inside with us. She used to lurk under the armchairs and pounce on my sister and me as we went past in the morning.

The house is still there, also looking a bit run down on Google’s Street View.

The last house I lived in was outside Dubbo. I don’t seem to have any pictures of it that don’t show people who may not want to be displayed here. My Mum bought a farm with her brother. He bred race horses on it, and we lived in the house. I lived there for a grand total of three months. The family moved house in November while I was doing my Higher School Certificate exams, so I stayed at a friend’s place until they were over. I was accepted into the University of Sydney and started in early March, so from then on I had my own place in Sydney and just visited Dubbo on holidays. It was a big farm house with high ceilings, bits built on to the main house, a verandah around one side, and metal kitchen cupboards.

Mum moved back into town a few years later. She bought my friend’s house that I had stayed in while I was doing exams. What are the odds?

52 Weeks of Personal Genealogy & History Week 3 – Cars

Week 3: Cars. What was your first car? Describe the make, model and color, but also any memories you have of the vehicle. You can also expand on this topic and describe the car(s) your parents drove and any childhood memories attached to it.

I’m going to jump straight to family cars. Here is my Mum’s car. She learned to drive after her marriage to my Dad ended and we moved back to Dubbo where her parents were. She bought the car second hand from her father. It was a Valiant, a beige Valiant station wagon. It had a bench seat in the front so we could seat three in the front when necessary. As the eldest of four I sat in the front and the other kids in the back.

Our house

The house I grew up in, with the car next to it.

My first driving lessons were in this car. It was a terrible thing, big and heavy. It had a column shift, coming out of the steering column. I ran it into a tree ( I nearly missed it!) at a very low speed and not a scratch did the car suffer.

This is the only photo I can find that has the car in it that doesn’t show people that may not want to be displayed for all to see in my blog. Some of them are in this picture too, but I’m confident that they’re privacy is secure.

I will save the commentary on the house for a future post which I’m sure will be coming over the next few months.

My grandfather had a small farm in his semi-retirement. He used to take my sister and me out there on Sundays, and we used to ride in the back of the ute. We watched farming stuff going on – sheep being dipped and so on. We got our cat from a litter of kittens on the farm. Here we are disembarking after one of these trips:

Pop's ute

Pop's ute

I don’t know when riding in the back of a ute became illegal. Perhaps it was already illegal by then. We loved it!

Here is my grandfather and his young family in perhaps the mid-1930s. I like to think this was his first car, but I don’t really know.

Grandfather's car

Grandfather's car

Actually I’m only guessing that it’s his car. He’s in the middle and looking proprietorial so I think I’m safe. I can imagine the family piling into the car and chugging off home, with all these other people waving them off.

Any information about what sort of car this is would be very welcome!

52 Weeks of Personal Genealogy & History Week 2 – Winter

Week 2: Winter. What was winter like where and when you grew up? Describe not only the climate, but how the season influenced your activities, food choices, etc.

This challenge runs from Saturday, January 8, 2011 through Friday, January 14, 2011.

Amy Coffin of the We Tree blog (http://wetree.blogspot.com/) has yet another successful series on her hands: 52 Weeks of Personal Genealogy & History (http://www.geneabloggers.com/52-weeks-personal-genealogy-history/).

No. It’s not winter here in Australia. It’s the middle of summer. The heat, humidity, bright sunshine, thunderstorms, cicadas singing, cats bringing mice in, bark falling off the gum trees, kids screaming and splashing in neighbours’ pools; all these things tell us it’s summer in Sydney.

Summer in Dubbo where I grew up was hot. Dubbo is in western New South Wales, in the middle of wheat and sheep country. It was a dry heat but it got much hotter than it does here in Sydney. I do not like the heat.

Christmas was a bit strange. We send each other postcards with snow and icicles and so on when outside it is pushing 40C. Some of us still have a big baked dinner in the middle of the day, heating the house up even more with the oven.

I much prefer winter. It is easier to keep warm in winter than to keep cool in summer. I like the cocooning thing, of closing the house up and keeping warm. I like the clothes better, too.

My mother grew up in Blayney, where it is colder than Dubbo. Her family all seem to remember the day it snowed and they all went up on the hill behind the house and played with the snow. They point to the hill and say ‘remember when it snowed…’. So snow wasn’t common.

I had never seen snow until I travelled overseas to Switzerland. Later I saw it at the Grand Canyon in the US. When I was 16 I went on a school excursion to Tasmania and we saw some old dirty snow on the mountain behind Hobart but I don’t think that really counts. We scraped up what we could and made it into balls and threw it at each other.

Carole ready for work c.1975Winter in Dubbo wasn’t a big deal. It doesn’t snow. It gets cold, but I don’t remember it being a big issue. We had a wood-burning stove, the type that was enamelled and had little mica windows that you couldn’t see through. That’s how I learned to light a fire. It had to be lit when I got home from school, before Mum came home from work. We used to build cubby houses (sort of) out of the firewood before it was stacked away in the shed.

Later we moved to a house with an oil-heater. The tank was on the wall in the car port outside the lounge room wall where the heater was, and a truck would come and fill it once a year.

The only other difference about winter was the clothes. We would need a jumper, and perhaps a jacket. I had a black dufflecoat in high school, one of those ones with wooden toggles on the front. I didn’t particularly like it so I swapped it with my boyfriend for his army greatcoat. A lot of my friends had dufflecoats too. And desert boots. Do they still make desert boots?

I’ve tried to find a photo from my childhood that shows ‘winter’ and I can’t find any. Pictures of people in front of the heater in the fireplace are not very inspiring. This is a picture of me dressed up for work in front of the fireplace in a fuzzy jacket. I was about 15. The shiny black shoes had a red and a yellow stripe across them. Ah, those were the days!

The picture is interesting, though, even though it is not very wintery. You can see we’d been to Fiji, where winter means you may have to put on a light cardigan and it doesn’t rain so much. We had a black and white TV that my uncle had given us when he bought a colour one. By the time my family bought a colour one I had left home and I got this black and white one.

The baby picture on the mantle piece is of me. I’m the eldest, and that’s the price we have to pay. The mural on the wall came from my uncle too, from memory, but I can’t remember the circumstances. The heater had a vent at the back that went through into the kitchen/dining room, so the door could be closed and the rooms both stay warm.

At least I’ve been prompted to do some more photo scanning!