Creative Ageing in Australia
By Peter, 70. South Fremantle, WA For my mother, and Norman Lindsay, who first alerted me to the magic, and mischief, of puddings. There’s just a month to go. So Mum’s preparing shopping lists: flour, suet, sugar, raisins, ginger, lemons, cherries, mixed fruits, treacle or golden syrup. Watching out for bargains at the co-op. Sticking… Continue reading The Christmas Pudding
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 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 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 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 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
By Ted, 73. Warnbro, WA After major surgery, I spent six weeks immobilised in bed. Before the days of motorised hospital beds, I was laid horizontal on a flat bed, drugged and weak, making it hard to move my own muscles. Every six hours, a team of six people would rotate my body 90 degrees:… Continue reading Healing in Colour
By Pam, 72. Perth, WA I am a human writer. I’ve been human for 72 years now! (As of last Sunday, actually!) My childhood was in England, an only child. Mum had three miscarriages, so I was forever making friends so I had someone to play with. I was quite good at that, though lonely… Continue reading Me, in a Nutshell
I remember the time when I was four years old and Mr. Stafford had just painted our shutters propped on sawhorses in the yard. I remember my mother saying, “Elizabeth, don’t go near those!” I remember wondering what would happen if I did. I needed to find out. I needed to go outside on that… Continue reading Turpentine