Creative Ageing in Australia
By Ross, 73. Perth, WA I’m prone on the loungeroom couchwhen sunlight beam strikesthe mantelpieceslicking a China dog’s faceteasingmy one opened eye our book club book, one of my fewwindows to the outsideattempted afreshbetween short bouts of drowsingsame five-word sentence, over and over… daydreaminguntil the dogs bring on lunchtimeby licking the fingersat the end, of… Continue reading All Day in Retirement
By Andy, 65. Byron Bay, NSW The turning of the new Millennium drew me to South Thailand — Ko Pha-Ngan, to be more precise. Why? The Psy Trance parties of Haad Rin beach and surrounds. What we called in Australia the doof scene. Back then, it was an older crowd who had washed up from… Continue reading Fear and Loathing in Bangkok
By Sue, 69. Aberfoyle Park, SA Don't you often think to yourself 'when I rule the world...' as some aspect of today's living drives you to despair? Welcome to my despot fantasy, where it's not a matter of 'if' but THINGS WILL CHANGE. Remember, in my fantasy, I am dictator now — an omnipotent presence. Rules… Continue reading When I Rule the World
By Lindsey-Jane, 70. Adelaide, SA Back in the fifties, many people were home sewers. Department stores and drapers' shops were chock full of rolls of beautiful fabrics in a vast array of colours and designs. One of the best sewers was my Nanna. Ever since I was old enough to remember, she'd made dresses for me… Continue reading Remembering the Fifties: Needles and Pins
By Andrew Piper, 75. Woodcroft, SA My story recounts memories of Semaphore and environs of the mid-seventies and a character I knew well who lived on the Semaphore Esplanade. Let's just call her Ester for the purposes of our story. I have flighty memories of people and places of that time, and my impressions of… Continue reading Seventies Semaphore: A Memoir
By Peter, 70. South Fremantle, WA Whatever colour things were,whatever Dad put in the waterturned us then everything elsescummy; transformed sheepinto grey aliens — sleek-headed,snake-eyed, daring to bare teeth. I don’t recall it ever rainingduring Dipping Week when,over-excited, I ran alongsidethat murky baptismal trough,sometimes into Dad’s armholding me back from slipping,when I’d check his hazel… Continue reading Of Dipping and Grey Aliens
By Steve, 65. Aldinga, SA black charcoal sketches on my flat screen tv skeleton trees,broken buildings,rubble everywhereon another channel,pageant queenswant world peaceback to reality,to the contrast of barren streetshumbled citizens in any warmclothing they can findnow,it's all about how to survivesolemnly they leavethe place they've called homeoppression,has been drawn on my tvI turn it off, andgo to… Continue reading Charcoal Sketches
By Josephine, 80. Beachport, SA Marrying at seventeen didn’t seem to me as though it should cause much eyebrow raising and speculation! This was back in 1957. Many young brides were accidentally pregnant, and many young men had a more responsible attitude to fatherhood than it seems they do today. Bryan and I were not… Continue reading Marrying at Seventeen
By Andy, 65. Byron Bay, NSW It must have been early February 2005 ... I was bored with my current job, so on a whim I bought a ticket to Sri Lanka and boldly decided to become a volunteer in the post-tsunami southeast coast of that troubled land. Prior to leaving, I spoke with an… Continue reading Wrong Place, Wrong Time
By Nancy, 80. Adelaide, SA TRIGGER WARNING: Domestic abuse. If you or someone you know need to seek assistance, here are some resources: In an emergency, please call 000. White Ribbon - click this link for support line phone numbers in each state 1 800 RESPECT - 1800 737 732 *** A chilly winter’s afternoon.… Continue reading The End
By Steve, 65. Aldinga, SA lessons learntonly slightly burntso much to learnso little timegrowth sometimes a bitter pillas we struggle up an unknown hilltufts of grass,trees with embedded rootscan help us on our wayevery hill is differentfor every child of mother earthsurvival is our instinctit rarely lets us down andwhen you've reached your plateauit is… Continue reading Lessons
By Leonie, 78. Port Fairy, VIC Empty factories and the rail lines promised not to tell As we explored the inner sanctum of that steel and iron playground Palm trees lined the railway, growing low with fronds that formed a veil Where we could hide with bikes and all, the two of us not… Continue reading Footscray, Our Playground
By Anne-Marie, 78. Henley Beach, SA My journey to Australia was a drawn-out odyssey. I first left France to work in Africa. In Zambia, I taught English as a second language in a boarding school near the source of the Zambezi River, where my son was born. During a holiday I travelled south to the border… Continue reading The Smoke That Thunders
By Briony, 63. Adelaide, SA If you were to position my brother Jerome on the autism spectrum, he would be in the mesosphere! Now, before you judge me on the title of this piece, my family are proud of Jerome’s weirdness. There was nothing bland or mediocre about him and the rest of us are… Continue reading My Weirdo Brother Jerome
By Lindsey-Jane, 70. Adelaide, SA These are just a few of the snacks and meals that we enjoyed as children in the 1950s. Today, some have been adapted to be more health-conscious for future generations, and others have simply vanished, which is a bit sad. As a child growing up in Australia in the 1950s,… Continue reading Bread and Dripping, Mushrooms, and Fresh Blackberries
By David, 84. Hackney, SA I was born in Guernsey, in the Channel Islands, not far from the French coast. In 1939, dad accepted a call to a church in Ilford, a suburb of London, because he believed the Germans would invade the Channel Islands once the war started. He was right. The German occupation… Continue reading Journey Through World War II
By Sue, 68. Aberfoyle Park, SA Hello, Miranda. Knew you'd be in sooner or later for your makeover. It was only last week at the tearooms you were praising me on the wonderful job I did on your friend Lydia. By the way, isn't the coffee and cake there to die for? Can't go there too often… Continue reading Body and Soul
By Nancy, 80. Adelaide, SA I have always had a rather unhealthy dislike of dogs. I was a cat lover. Dogs I feared and loathed. I found them dirty, smelly, and prone to nip one's ankle. I never understood dog owners' obsessions with their animals. I viewed most dog people as not quite normal when… Continue reading Smudge
By Mary, 71. Bunbury, WA Editor's note: Below are portions from a longer piece written by Mary, whose drawings and stories detail her family's life in Australia after they emigrated in 1950 to start anew in a free country with job prospects. In 1950, Irene (my mother) was pregnant with me (her second child), and… Continue reading Growing Up In Wittenoom
By Sue, 68. Aberfoyle Park, SA “This is delicious,” Marge mumbled between mouthfuls of double chocolate muffin. Every Tuesday after she and her friend Fay had finished their hour-long exercise class, they treated themselves to a coffee and muffin of the week from the cafe's specials board. “So convenient,” said Fay, “that the retirement village… Continue reading Romeo — Where Art Thou?
By Lucie Kolmer, 1916 — 2010. Adelaide, SA. Rest in peace. In April 1934, my parents, my young brother, and I left Germany on the liner Koblenz and sailed for China. I celebrated my 18th birthday onboard the ship. My brother died of kidney failure in Shanghai where we initially lived. We left Shanghai in… Continue reading Coming to Australia
By Wendy, 71. Landsdale, WA Next door to our house was a grocer’s shop which looked like a D’Arcy Doyle painting. It had big sacks full of rice, cereals, beans and dried fruits. The grocer scooped up the rice and weighed it on the scales, the rice on one side and weights on the other… Continue reading Mascot Memoir ~ Part Two
By Andy, 65. Byron Bay, NSW Woke this morning kinda listless …A rainy day again (as is the cycle at present). Brewed an espresso and sat in the feelings rather than attempt to shake them off. My mind was like a book left carelessly out in the breeze. Pages flitting, randomly stopping occasionally with the… Continue reading Morning Musings
By Lesley-Anne, 67. Christie Downs, SA It was the winter of 1963. The snow and the fog were like nothing I had ever seen. When I say fog, I mean the dense, impenetrable type where you can't see more than a few inches in front of you. There was nothing wispy or ethereal about this… Continue reading Fog Bound
By Wendy, 71. Landsdale, WA I remember when we lived at my father’s shop in Botany Road and my parents let me climb out the upstairs window onto the tin roof when the queen came along the road in 1954. Out the back of the shop, my mother had a copper, a washboard, a cane… Continue reading Mascot Memoir ~ Part One