1972 - Driving.

I didn't know I was pregnant when I started my driving lessons in November 1972.  P had only taken one lesson with his father in their VW bug, but it had traumatised him so badly that he never wanted to drive again.  I booked lessons through Ace and my driving instructor picked me up outside City Hall at lunchtime.  I started to get into the passenger side but he insisted that I get behind the wheel of the beautiful, big red Ford Falcon sedan.  I was terrified, but he had dual controls so I felt better when I knew he could correct any bad move I made.

We drove through the heavy city traffic out to Rosalie, a very hilly suburb not far from the city.  The drivers' licence issuing centre was located there and my instructor wanted me to be familiar with the area as well as practicing hill starts and reverse parking (parallel parking to those in the USA).  Remember, these were the days of micro mini skirts and my instructor had the annoying habit of patting my bare thigh whenever he approved of my driving.  He also spent a lot of time telling me how his wife misunderstood him ... really, he must have thought I was an idiot!

I had lessons every day of the week except Sundays, then passed my driving test first time.  It was very easy in those days.  The tester settled himself into the passenger seat then asked me about 5 questions, all of which I got right, before we drove away for my test.  We were allowed to drive in bare feet, which I thought was essential because the high platform soles of my shoes didn't allow me to feel the pedals.

Dad's job allowed him to pick out the best of the cars coming off lease and so I ended up at Eagers Holden picking up my HG Kingswood Station Wagon, a 3-speed manual with a 161 engine that I later swapped out for a 186 to give it a bit more power.  It had the best driving and maintenance record and although it was 1 year old, cost me only $1,500 from my inheritance.  I was very nervous driving with passengers, but loved driving on my own.

The first weekend I collected Mum, Dad, J and V (P couldn't stand being around my parents) to drive out to Somerset Dam.  We had a lovely lunch by the water then drove the loop to come back through Ipswich.  They were quite impressed with my driving and I was very proud.  Needless to say, I was the only one not drinking that day.  P thought my driving was a great idea, because now he had someone to drive him to and from the pub, but to me it was a wonderful sense of independence and freedom ... I loved it with a passion!

Seaspray - iridescent pale sea green

Dad and V

Dad and I

J and Mum

V, J and Mum

Inside domestic violence.

Most people, when they hear about domestic violence, can't understand why that person doesn't simply leave their painful situation.  I can't answer that question for everyone, but only from my own perspective.  I thought I loved P and really believed him when he said he was so sorry and it wouldn't happen again ... until it happened over and over.  Some part of me believed this was normal behaviour since Mum and Dad obviously loved each other, but they fought like cats and dogs every time they were drunk.  I never got drunk and I couldn't bring myself to fight back, but simply tried to get away from him ... sometimes successfully and other times not.

You can't imagine how frightening it is to watch that change suddenly come over someone you love.  One minute he's loving and gentle, then the next minute his pupils have dilated and he's screaming accusations at you and belittling you while he puts his hands around your throat.  Then suddenly, he switches back again into his Dr Jekyll persona and can't understand why you're crying and don't want to kiss and cuddle him!  It was so bad that when he came home drunk, my mouth would dry up and my palms would start sweating as I waited for something to set him off.  I didn't even have to be in the same room!  Once he slipped over as he staggered into the toilet then came roaring into the lounge room where I was watching TV to beat me for pushing him over.

The physical abuse is bad enough but he employed verbal abuse as well to grind down my self esteem until I lost my self respect entirely.  Constant threats and intimidation worked to turn me into a pathetic doormat.  When we would go to a function together, I would look only at him or the table, otherwise he would accuse me of making eyes at some guy in the room and punish me for it when we returned home.  He never did anything to me in public, so nobody suspected and all his friends thought he was a wonderful man ... they still do!

I became pregnant in 1972, but the beatings took their toll and I miscarried: what my Gynaecologist called a "missed abortion", because I couldn't tell him I was in an abusive relationship.  My GP had thought he could prevent the miscarriage by prescribing Valium 5 mg tablets, four times a day.  P sent me to stay at Mum and Dad's house while I was sedated. I was so out of it that I wasn't aware of how much time passed and my dreams were in vivid Technicolour.  After four weeks there (in my mind only a couple of weeks had passed) it was obvious that the pregnancy was over.  Dad took me home to a flat (actually it was half a house) next door to P's Mum and Dad.  P had moved us out of our furnished flat into this unfurnished dump while I was away.  We could never get rid of the mice!  His parents had given us P's double bed, dressing table and wardrobe.  I climbed the fence into their yard to do our washing in their machine, but we needed furniture fast.  His Mum and Dad bought us a laminated dining table and six chairs and my Dad made some of my money available to me to buy the rest.  I bought a 12 cu.ft. Kelvinator two-door fridge/freezer, black & white TV, a buffet, 4 seater lounge with two chairs and footstools.  I then had to go into hospital for a D & C, my first time under an anaesthetic.  We ended up living in that horrible place from 1972 - 1980.

In November 1972 I became pregnant again and despite some early bleeding my tough little daughter, MLC, hung on and was delivered safely in July 1973 weighing 9lb 5oz.

The honeymoon is over!

We quickly settled into a routine.  We’d walk to Nundah train station together then from the city station walk to City Hall in the morning.  Working in sections only separated by a waist-high divider we would often have lunch together.  The reverse journey every afternoon was the same except that the moment we walked in our front door, P would sit down and turn the TV on then ask “What’s for dinner?”.  I taught myself how to cook pretty quickly because P ‘acted’ as though he was completely useless in the kitchen.  He only knew two temperature settings on the stove, either off or full blast, so he burned everything he ‘attempted’ to cook.  He claimed to be a “meat and potatoes” man and also demanded a roast meal every Sunday for lunch.  I had grown up with Mum’s international cooking so I loved Chinese, Italian and Greek cuisine to supplement everyday Aussie food, so I found his bland tastes very constricting.

Being Winter, the football season was in full swing so he was kept busy with training sessions on Tuesday and Thursday nights and if the team’s prospects were good toward the end of the season, training would also take up part of Sunday.  He played Australian Rules Football in the major competition in Brisbane and the games were played on Saturday.  I didn’t mind him playing, in fact I was very proud of him but it was all the boozing afterwards with his mates that caused all the problems.  He came home drunk from every training session and I had to watch him get drunk after every Saturday game.  Once he started drinking, he wouldn’t or couldn’t stop until he was very drunk.

As soon as he got home in this condition, my own personal nightmare would start.  One minute he would be affectionate and loving, then something would set him off and he would become violently aggressive.  For example, one of his friends had just come back from his tour of duty in Vietnam.  Poor GS came back to find his world had changed while he had been away.  None of his mates, including P, had been conscripted into service so they had all moved on with their lives without him.  He came back to find himself at a loose end and frequently dropped in to visit us at our flat.  Apparently P suspected he was dropping in to see me, but didn’t mention anything to him.  Instead he took it out on me during his first drunken attack in our flat.  P wanted me to have sex with him and when I said “No” he went berserk.  I saw his pupils dilate until there was almost no colour left in his eyes.  He accused me of having sex with GS and my denials fell on deaf ears as he started to hit me.  I ran into the bedroom and slammed the door shut but he put his foot through the door and broke into the bedroom.  He proceeded to hit me until I couldn’t get up, then he passed out.

One of my mother’s favourite expressions came back to haunt me, “You’ve made your bed, now you have to lie in it”.  I couldn’t go home, I was too ashamed to tell anyone … not my best friend or my twin sister.  The next morning he claimed he couldn’t remember any of it, but after he saw the huge bruises on my body he promised that it would never happen again and went out to buy me flowers.  The next time he came home drunk, I thought I could avoid the violent consequences by saying “Yes” when he wanted sex.  You can’t imagine how disgusting it is to have sex:

1. When you don’t want to
2. With a completely drunk man

It was like making love to a jellyfish and apparently I couldn’t fake that it was the best thing in the world, because he went berserk anyway beating me while he demanded to know who my lover was!

This became the routine in our marriage for the next 16 years.  Summer was better as he didn’t meet up with his mates quite as often, except on special occasions such as Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and his birthday in February.

1971 - Part 2

We stayed our first night as a married couple at the Park Royal Hotel, beside the Botanic Gardens in the city.  As we were both too nervous to eat at the reception, we were starving when we arrived and ordered burgers from room service.  We were preparing for bed when I realised that I had left my birth control pills at home and quickly phoned my parents' number, hoping to speak to my sister.  She assured me that she would bring them to the airport in the morning.  We slept well and arrived at the airport early to find only Dad waiting for us.  He told us Twin had fallen down the stairs and twisted her ankle making it impossible for her to see us off, but he reassured me that she was OK.  As our departure time drew nearer, I timidly asked Dad if Twin had given him anything to give to me.  He said "Oh yes" and started patting his pockets, then produced a sealed envelope.  You can't imagine my relief as I felt the blister pack of pills through that envelope.

Our flight to Mackay was uneventful and we booked into a Motel for a couple of nights, because our cruise didn't depart until Tuesday.  We wandered around Mackay a bit, but there really wasn't anything much to see.  At the harbour, we boarded one of Roylen Cruises' five converted PT boats.  Each boat slept only eight guests and our cabin didn't have a solid door: there was a gap at the top and the bottom.  It had never occurred to us that we would have to sleep in double bunks attached to the wall. Apart from our wardrobe, the only other item of interest was a wash basin in the corner.  The bathroom and toilet were at the end of the corridor.  The toilet (the correct nautical term was "the head") was more like a throne because you had to walk up a couple of steps to perch on it. ☺

My husband immediately spotted an acquaintance among the crew of another boat, RG.  I was less than impressed to see him because he had spent most of one night at P's parents' house trying to convince P not to marry me.  I knew this because I had stayed the night and instead of sleeping peacefully in P's bedroom, I spent most of the night listening to RG and P's increasingly drunken discussions about our upcoming nuptials.  He finally convinced P that it was a really bad idea so P sneaked into my room and started hunting around looking for my engagement ring.  Knowing this would happen from the tone of their conversation, I had already slipped it off my finger and hidden it inside the pillow case.  He tried to wake me, but as I was playing sound asleep he eventually gave up his search and staggered back out into the dining room to rejoin RG in another drink.  It never occurred to me at the time to worry about the enormous influence P's friends had over him, but I learnt over time that I came a poor second in relation to his mates, while his children were hardly a blip on his radar.

On our boat one of the deckhands was tall, tanned and blond so P immediately regarded him as a threat, telling me he didn't like the way this guy was looking at me.  I told P that I hadn't even noticed the man until he pointed him out, but of course P didn't believe me.  The rest of the guests were older married couples who quickly deduced we were on our honeymoon, so every morning and each time we went to our cabin for any reason we suffered good-natured jibes on our return above deck.

Our boat took off into the Whitsunday Passage and it was very rough!  We made the fateful mistake of sitting in the bar and it took only a few minutes of watching the alcohol in the bottles sloshing from side to side for us to become horribly sea sick.  P followed me downstairs to the toilet where I was violently sick, then he promptly followed my example.  After cleaning ourselves up, we took to our bunks and fell asleep.  When we awoke, there was no motion from the waves and we quickly realised we were tied up at the wharf at Lindeman Island.  To our horror, everyone else had gone ashore and the boat was about to pull away to allow another boat to dock.  We scrambled ashore as quickly as possible and swore we would never set foot on that boat again ... I nearly kissed the ground!  However, after a few hours of wandering around that beautiful island among the tropical flowers and plants, we decided to persevere with our holiday.  When we boarded again, the crew told us the only way to avoid seasickness was to stand at the bow and never to go inside.  If only we had know this trick earlier!

We visited Lindeman, Hook, Hayman, Brampton and Daydream Islands.  Some nights all the boats would tie up side by side at a wharf, using planks to get from one boat to the other, then we would all go ashore to enjoy dinner and dancing at one of the resorts.  We were having a lovely night at Daydream Island when RG asked me to dance.  I didn't really want to but felt I should remain civil.  He behaved himself and seemed quite nice, but suddenly P jumped up and stormed out.  When we all returned to our boats, I found him propped up at the bar.  When I suggested it was bedtime he pointedly ignored me so I went downstairs to our cabin alone.  Apparently the bar stayed open as long as someone wanted to drink so I didn't see him again until morning.  We never discussed that incident.

The rest of our trip was marvellous.  We caught fish in crystal clear water ... it seemed like cheating to me because I could see the fish open its mouth to take my bait and only had to yank on the line to catch it.  Our fresh catch was cooked superbly by our on-board Chef and I fell in love with Red Emperor and Sand Snapper. 

One day we boarded a Dingy to spend some time on Whitehaven Beach.  Remember this was the middle of winter but between the snow white sand and crystal clear water, we were sunburnt within 30 minutes.  Worse still, the outboard motor on the Dingy broke down so we were stranded there for a couple of hours.  We sat in the water with soaking wet towels over our heads to try to save our skin from burning any more, but I was horribly blistered by the time they picked us up.

We eventually returned to Mackay where we were scheduled to board the Sunlander to return to Brisbane.  To our dismay, there had been a problem on the rail line somewhere south of us and we were told we wouldn't be leaving until midnight.  We explained our predicament and begged the nearest hotel's desk clerk for a room for just the day.  It wasn't too expensive and we rested until it was time to return to the station.  We left just after midnight and were very comfortable in our private two-bed sleeper.  When we woke up we were travelling slowly past workmen rearranging gravel at the side of the track.  I asked P to close the blinds so I could get out of bed but he told me it was one-way glass and they couldn't see me.  I disagreed saying "I'm sure that man is looking straight at me!" but P just said I was imagining things, so I got out of bed and got dressed.  As we left the train in Brisbane I looked with horror into every sleeping berth as we walked along the platform.  I glared at P and said in an icy voice "One-way glass?  Really?"  At least he apologised, but it didn't make me feel any better ... I've never been an exhibitionist and those men had gotten an eye full!

We arrived at his parents' house where we would stay until we could rent ourselves a flat and after one night, we were prepared to rent anything just to get out of there.  We ended up with a one-bedroom, fully furnished flat at Nundah ... one room was a combined kitchen/dining/lounge room with a front door, the other room had a back door and was a decent sized bedroom with a small bathroom/toilet off that, all for $24 per week including electricity.

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1971 - Part 1

For Xmas, P gave me a watch.  Engraved on the back was "To Beth with love, P".  He explained that this had belonged to his ex-girlfriend.  He had gotten her pregnant, but as she was in the Navy based in Sydney, they took care of it for her.  When they broke up, he had asked for his watch to be returned.  It was a nice watch, but I did contemplate scratching off the engraving.

In early February 1971, P had his 21st birthday party under his parents' high-set house.  Mum had made me a beautiful halter-neck, backless dress from a peacock blue satin jersey fabric.  Of course I couldn't wear a bra with it, so I strategically applied some sticky tape. ☺

We were having a great time and I danced with P and some of his friends, but as the night wore on, P got very drunk.  He bailed me up against the fence outside and accused me of making a play for his friends, then he hit me.  I fought back, scratching his face, which immediately sobered him up.  I went upstairs and he followed me into his bedroom.  His mother and grandmother burst in, but J didn't say anything except for L to leave us alone to sort it out.  L wasn't having any of that and started screaming at me for scratching P's face.  I got up and left, telling my parents that I was going home.  After I caught a taxi home, P went to sit in B's car (the woman I'd replaced in Cashiers) where she consoled him for the rest of the night.

I kept going over that night in my mind, trying to see what actions of mine could have been misconstrued by P ... I found nothing!  After a few days we talked it out, made up and I chalked it up to a one-off event.

Later in February, Twin gave birth to her beautiful daughter H!

 

Mum and Dad adored H and couldn't do enough for her.  I had always known that Twin was my parents' favourite and now it seemed that her daughter was favoured even more.  ☺

In March we celebrated our 19th birthday with dinner at the Angus Steakhouse in the National Hotel in Brisbane.  In the photo below are A, Twin, me and P.  The boys were 21, but Twin and I had no problem ordering alcohol.

Our wedding was scheduled for July, but in April I discovered I was pregnant.  P and I agreed it was too soon for a baby as we both thought it would put too much pressure on a new marriage.  My sister had only been married 6 months, but her marriage was already a bit rocky.  P asked around and found the name of a Gynaecologist who performed illegal abortions at his house in Ascot.  P insisted that I would have to go alone, otherwise his price would double, so we sat down to work out how much money we could scrape up together.

I made the appointment and attended his house one night.  After his examination, he confirmed that I was approximately 6 weeks pregnant.  I burst into tears and told him I couldn't have the baby so he offered to solve my problem for $2,000.  It might sound like very little money now, but in 1971 it was a staggering amount to someone earning $50 per fortnight!  After more tears and a bit of haggling, he settled for $250.  He wrote me a prescription for some painkillers and antibiotics, telling me to take the painkillers 30 minutes before my next appointment.

On Friday night a week later, I returned to his house while P waited up the street.  As I approached his door I could hear music playing loudly, but over that I could hear a woman moaning.  I was so frightened that I knocked rather timidly on his door.  Of course he couldn't hear me so I tried again loudly until he ripped open the door.  He told me he was busy and to go away for about one hour.  I explained that I had already taken the pills, but he said it would be fine and slammed the door in my face.  When I looked up the street for P, he was nowhere in sight so I wandered down to the park and sat on a bench.

When I returned he was ready for me and much to my horror, he performed a D & C without giving me any further pain relief.  I won't go into details except to say I've never felt pain like that before or since and the procedure seemed to take forever.  I paid him his money and left with an appointment for a check-up in 6 weeks.  I slowly wandered down the street until I found P waiting around the corner.  He called a taxi and took me home, as I was bent over in pain and feeling very weak.  I let myself in and, telling Mum and Dad I was feeling sick, went straight to bed.  After spending all week-end in bed, I was feeling well enough to go to work on Monday.  At my follow-up appointment he gave me a clean bill of health.

I would like to say something to the extremists.  I don't expect you to change your minds, but please remember that abortions have been happening since the human population started walking the Earth.  Women should be allowed to control their own bodies and I don't want to see anyone forced to use "backyard" abortionists ever again, because that's what will happen if legal abortions are ever banned.

P and I married in July.  Twin was my Matron of Honour, my best friend L and P's best friend R's girlfriend were my bridesmaids.  R was P's best man and his groomsmen were T and my brother-in-law A.

I'm pretty sure that our wedding was one of the few in history to have hecklers!  As we left the church after the ceremony, we could hear a woman yelling out comments like, "You'll be sorry!" and "I'll give it 6 months!".  There she was ... with her friend sitting in the gutter, both drunk!  P's friend B who had comforted him on the night of his 21st.  He could have walked over to her and told her to go, but no ... he thought that if he pretended she wasn't there ... she would just leave so P did nothing.  All through our photo session, we would smile for the camera then scowl off to our left, then smile again.  I developed a tic at the side of my mouth after a few minutes of this absurdity.

Finally, we escaped to our reception at the Metropolitan Motor Inn.  I should mention here that after my Aunt L died in 1965 my Dad, being one of her executors, spent up lavishly.  Aunt L and Uncle G were childless so she left her entire estate to her five nieces and nephews.  Mum and Dad immediately paid cash for a large block of land in Sunnybank, a new Valiant sedan then they sold our shares in BHP to pay for Twin's wedding and her new car.  Dad insisted that P and I should have a great honeymoon so as well as paying for my wedding, I paid for our flights to Mackay, accommodation there, a week-long cruise around the Whitsunday Islands then tickets on the Sunlander back to Brisbane.

I'm sorry my story is taking so long to relate, but each post is more difficult to write than the last.  Thank you for your patience.

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1970

As I became more involved with P, we would have lunch together, sitting at his desk eating his Mum's sandwiches.  I hadn't met her yet, but she made extra for P to share.  I knew he played football and drank a lot, but I'd grown up around a lot of drinking so I didn't see it as a problem.

The first time P asked me out, it was to be after work on a Friday.  He had disappeared after lunch as usual and I waiting until almost quitting time, but he didn't return so I phoned Dad to give me a lift home.  I was waiting in Ann Street when I spotted P staggering, very drunk, along the opposite footpath.  When Dad pulled up, I jumped into the car as P raced across the road in front of us, yelling at me not to go.  I just told Dad to ignore him and we drove away.  When P and I discussed it later, I told him I wasn't prepared to wait around while he got drunk.

He did some funny things, like pulling the ring-pull off his can of Coke to give me an "engagement ring".   I thought it was cute at the time and I was sure I was in love with him.  It wasn't the "head over heels" type of feeling, just one of inevitability or fate, because I couldn't see my life without him in it.  I think he reminded me of Dad in a way, which should have sounded a warning.  We went out with his best friend, R with his girlfriend J and his other mate T.  I don't think they liked me very much but I really didn't care as long as P stayed reasonably sober.

When he introduced me to his parents, they welcomed me warmly.  I thought they were great, but I was a bit shocked to hear them swear.  They said "shit" and "bastard" ... words I had never heard my parents use.  The strongest equivalent in my parents' vocabulary was "basket" instead of "bastard"!   Like my parents, his drank every night although it was only a large bottle of beer each.  His Mum J told me that she suspected her husband, V kept a bottle of spirits or plonk under the house, which he also drank on the sly.

J and I became fast friends and she earned my respect.  She had always wanted a daughter and I found her much easier to talk to than my mother.  She had also worked all her married life to help keep the wolf from the door, only because V liked to drink so much he didn't give her enough money to live on.  She had lived most of her life in incredible pain because when she was very little, she was playing downstairs when her mother, L, emptied out the old copper she used to boil the laundry.  The scalding water burnt her back so severely that she spent a long time in hospital propped up on her elbows.  When she came out of hospital, she had to learn to walk again and after a while, osteoarthritis caused so much pain in both her elbows that a surgeon removed the head of the radius in both her arms.  Even with cortisone treatment, the pain never left her and simple things like turning a tap or peeling a potato caused her much pain, which she tried to hide from everyone around her.

I made sure that we bought her things to make her life easier, such as an electric can opener and an electric carving knife.  She was so very brave and so different to my mother who complained about everything and was almost happy to be diagnosed with Angina.  J's mother L was similar to mine, because the first time I met her she pulled up her skirt to show me a large scar on her knee and thigh, then pulled up her top to show me another one on her back ... way too much information for a first meeting!  L even listed off multiple doctors and specialists she frequented in Mt Isa and Brisbane.

P and I became engaged in November 1970.  When told of our engagement, his friend T didn't believe him and bet him dinner at the Room at the Top restaurant in the Tower Mill Motel.  I don't know which of us he was insulting, but we enjoyed a very good meal thanks to T's scepticism. ☺

I was 18 and P was 20.  I splurged on my dress; it cost nearly 2 weeks wages ... $32!  I finally took P home to meet Mum and Dad who typically, drank him under the table.  I had to pour him into a taxi and make sure he had the huge fare from Upper Mt Gravatt to Virginia, ie. $5.  One of our work mates wrote a poem to celebrate our engagement, which he happily recited at our work Xmas party.

It goes as follows:

When P to M popped the question

M pensively made a suggestion

C**** she said is rather a strange label

But I'm willing if you're ready and able!

My engagement ring was unique and in all the years since, I have never seen another ... unlike his best friends who went to Diamonds International so their Fiancées sported exactly the same ring.  Both girls were not happy!

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Working Life - 1969/70

I started work in April, 1969 and my letter of appointment told me to start my first day in the Rates Dept, but when I arrived through the Adelaide Street entrance of City Hall I was told that I would be working in Cashiers.  The girl I was replacing had taken the job in Rates.  I didn't really care at that stage, but with the clarity of hindsight I can see that my life would have been entirely different if I had never met P.  I would also have never met the best friend in my life, L.   I started off sitting at the desk beside P learning B's job, which was to collect all the cheques from the cashiers on a regular basis during the day, use an electronic adding machine to total the amounts then to cross-check this figure against the cashier's total.  I became very good at touch-typing the keys and could always "feel" when I'd hit the wrong one, so my totals were usually correct.

I'd then run all the cheques and the adding machine tape through a Microfilm camera.  At the end of the day, I would prepare the enormous deposit slip, with a carbon copy, to accompany the cheques and cash to the bank.  Even back then, the totals were a staggering $1million + per day.  These were the days of micro-mini skirts and I wore the first pair a platform shoes in the office, earning ridicule from my workmates, but the effect displayed lots of bare, shapely leg.  I spotted L across a waist high divider in the Licensing & Metered Parking section.  She also subscribed to the long, shapely leg philosophy and I knew she was a kindred spirit before we even met.  For some reason, the "boys", including P, delighted in flicking rubber bands at my legs, but I was damned if I was going to let them know it bothered me.

On 20th July 1969 we watched Neil Armstrong step onto the surface of the Moon on multiple TVs set up in the City Hall's main auditorium.

B moved on to some other department and I took her place.  I seemed to be the only one to notice every time I had to collect money for a birthday, engagement, wedding or baby, some of the cashiers would take the money straight out of the till.  I asked one day out of sheer curiosity and was told they all received an allowance for "unders".  Crooks!  I also noticed that the boys who counted the 20c pieces from the parking meters, also left at night with bulging pockets ... nobody else seemed to care.  The most amazing sight was the absence of male staff from lunchtime onward on Friday.  They all went to the pub and never came back.  I used to feel quite conspicuous, being the only one left outside the boss' office, but he obviously knew and took no notice.

Easter weekend 1970 saw Twin and A in the front seat of his panel van, four others including me crammed into the back and two others riding pillion on the two accompanying motor bikes, as we headed off first to A's brother's place in Sydney, then out to Bathurst for the races.  We were all hopped up on NoDoz (caffeine tablets) and drove straight through the night then crashed on the floor of D's house in Paddington.  When we got to Mt Panorama A took us out onto the track and tried to make his van fly, but it didn't really have the engine for it.  It was so funny that every guy we met just happened to be a "racing driver" as if this was a magic formula to get a girl hot and bothered! ☺

As night fell, Twin and A made it very plain that nobody else was welcome in the back of the van, so the rest of us spread out a ground sheet and tried to sleep on the cold, hard ground.  I've never been so bone cold in my life, then or since and I'm not sure if I went off to sleep or slipped into a state of hypothermia.  I woke with a rude shock, to find one of my male travelling companions with his hand in my panties ... to get there he's unzipped my jeans!  After I'd thumped him away and demanded to know what the hell he was doing, his pathetic excuse was a plaintive ... "I thought you were awake".  Yeah, right!  I bet he was sorry I woke up.  The racing was pretty boring and time dragged.  We were supposed to head back early on Monday, but Twin and A were having too much fun.  Nobody seemed to care that I had to be at work on Tuesday morning, our birthday.  Twin phoned Mum and Dad and told them the van had broken an axle and to make my apologies at work.

When I got back to the office on the Wednesday, I'd been transferred into the Licensing & Metered Parking section, because a supervisor BK who lived not far away from me, told everyone I had big parties at my house every night.  He was not only an idiot, he was wrong.  We lived on the widest part of the winding street, so everyone parked in front of our house as it was the only place buses wouldn't have to squeeze past.  He assumed these people were hanging out at my place constantly!

In Licensing & Metered Parking I started off creating files for all complaint letters, then moved over to conduct searches and type summonses.  Parking regulations at that time gave a person 14 days in which to pay their ticket, then the charges would escalate as we incurred search fees from the MRD (Main Roads Dept).  The parking officers, who had engineered their uniforms to look as much like the police as possible, were a bunch of swaggering jerks.  There were three copies of every ticket.  The orange card was affixed to the windscreen wiper, the white original and blue carbon copy stayed in the filing cabinet.  As the paid tickets were received, the copies were removed to another area.  After the due date, I had to separate the unpaid originals from their copies, bundle them up and take them around to the EDP (Electronic Data Processing) Dept.  Here operators would key punch all the information onto cards and these cards were then read by the massive computer.  A few days later I would return to pick up the originals and an enormous printout produced by their line printer (a multi-part sheet with an original and two carbon copies).  I would then manually de-collate and burst these sheets into separate, matching stacks and walk the original to MRD.  Everyone around me hated these days, because I filled every available waste paper bin with sheets of carbon paper.

MRD would send me back a stack of Statutory Declarations, naming the vehicle's owner and giving address details.  After I matched them with the original unpaid tickets, I would take them up to the huge, grey Xerox copier.  It had a curved glass and instead of a hard, flat cover it had a rubber mat that I would lay over the glass before hitting the start button.  I used a form letter that was embedded in a piece of curved perspex to exactly fit the copier's glass.  There was a cut-out piece on the back of the perspex that allowed me to place the original copy of the ticket before making the copy.  So I would stand there for an hour or more, lifting back the rubber mat, removing one ticket and replacing it with the next before hitting the start button.  These letters were sent to the owners demanding immediate payment of the fine plus search fee and threatening court action if the new amount remained unpaid.

After two weeks, I would match the Stat Decs with the unpaid tickets so all the typists could start work on summonses.  These long documents also had multiple carbon copies, which were a real pain to correct as we had to place cardboard under each sheet of carbon paper, then rub out the error on each page before retyping (the CC always smudged or if you rubbed too hard, a hole developed).  It was a legal document so no liquid paper was allowed and it wasn't until after I left work in 1973 that they brought in word processors to make the job easy!

The parking officers had to record every word of abuse the driver had said to him by writing on the back of the white original.  In turn, this horrible writing had to be deciphered by us, so we learnt all the four-letter words under the sun.  One pathetic driver actually used his parking ticket as toilet paper, then sent it back to us through the mail.  The stupid idiot left all the vehicle's details and ticket number in place so it was easy for us and Australia Post to trace him and bring charges.

Although my new section was in the same large office and only separated from Cashiers by a waist-high divider, it was another world.  Our boss was a little man, in body and spirit, who wouldn't let a woman smoke within sight of the public counter, but a guy could walk up and talk to the public with a smoke hanging out of the corner of his mouth.  Mr K would never speak to you at his desk, because he didn't like being stood over so he'd say, "Talk to you in a minute" and when you sat down, he would come over to stand beside your desk.  He made all the women work out a roster for making the morning and afternoon tea/coffee.  We would have to serve the men at their desks.

One sleazy accountant made the mistake of running his hand up the back of my leg, so that afternoon I doctored his coffee.  I emptied a large blob of glue into the bottom of his coffee then emptied an entire glass bowl of pins into the glue ... well, I didn't want him to swallow the pins!  I kept my eyes on him as he took his first couple of sips and watched the colour drain out of his face.  He never touched me again and even went so far as to ask me out.  What a freak!

L and I got our revenge on Mr K by meeting in the ladies room, where we'd sit on the couch and smoke a few cigarettes together.  Each time we walked out, we were gone for about 30mins, so he lost a lot of productivity with his sexist attitude.  We also had lunch together over at the Carleton's Ladies Lounge.  In those days, it wasn't really acceptable for women to drink with men in the Public Bar.  We each ordered toasted ham and tomato sandwiches (45cents) with a Blue Lagoon (Gin + Blue Curacao) cocktail (45 cents).  The barman loved experimenting on us, so we tried Black, Red, Mauve and Green Lagoons too.

We didn't do this every day, because after 6 cocktails at lunch we could barely walk back to the office ... remember we were wearing platform-soled shoes.  We would spend a blissful afternoon not getting any work done, phoning each other to have a quiet giggle or carefully walking around to the ladies for a smoke.  I don't know who lead who astray, but we didn't really care.  We made plans to buy a VW Kombi and just travel around the country until L met K, a budding cop (meaning he still had a neck).

Twin wanted to marry A, but Mum and Dad wouldn't allow it so she deliberately set out to get pregnant.  She and A were married in September 1970, renting a house in Ashgrove and baby H was born in February, 1971.  Twin was a bit overdue, so A decided a good fright was in order and took us for a midnight walk through a large cemetery.  They visited the spot where they first kissed, in a rather large tomb.  It worked remarkably well. ☺  Let me point out that although we visited several cemeteries at night, we were not vandals and never did any damage.

Following are some of Twin's wedding day photos, showing our entire family.  At this stage, she worked in a bridal store and designed both our outfits ... she had so much artistic talent and such potential!

                                 

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Mt Gravatt - 1969.

A brand-new house means lots of work, landscaping the grounds to prevent storm-water and mud from pushing in under the front door and flooding everything under the house during the first storm.  Dad and I got drenched and filthy digging a channel across the front door to divert some of the slush running down the bare slope from the road.  He hired some landscaping contractors, who conned him into paying a lot of money up front, laid some shoddy concrete mowing strips around a large rock retaining wall then promptly disappeared.  He hired a jackhammer so he and I could take turns breaking up the concrete.  He then hired someone who knew what they were doing, to expertly finish the job.

Toward the end of grade 10, every student in Queensland had to sit a compulsory Scholarship exam.  My results were listed in the newspaper and posted to our new address.  I was one of the few who was offered a free trip to QIT (Qld Institute of Technology, now QUT).  My father thought it was a ridiculous idea because, and I quote, "It would be a waste of time, since you're only going to get married and leave work to have children".  He drafted my letter of refusal, which I copied in my own handwriting for him to send off.  I never thought of arguing with him, but it hurt that I was held in such low esteem.  He sent me to a secretarial school in the city to increase my shorthand and typing speed ... it seemed that his only ambition for me was to hang off some man's every word!  He then organised for me to get a job in the Local Government with him.

Meanwhile, Twin was working and stealing money in a city department store.  She made a friend there who lived at Hendra, so we would go over on weekends and take turns getting drunk, although she seemed to have a few more turns than me.  The legal drinking age was 21 then, but at 17 we never had any problems buying alcohol.  We would buy a large bottle of Gin or Vodka and not nearly enough soft drink to go with it, so would polish off the bottle straight.  As she became very drunk, Twin would become very violent and the only way to handle her was to hold her down until she ran out of puff.  Luckily, I was always bigger, stronger and abhorred violence so much that I didn't retaliate when she tried to hit me.  I always hated the idea of losing my self control, so I never drank enough to get what we called "paraletic". 

One night we went to a party at another friend's place in South Brisbane.  Twin met her man, A and decided that she wanted to move in with her friends.  Rather than confront Mum and Dad, she packed up in the middle of the night and just left.   She woke me to tell me she was leaving, so it wasn't a total shock when the uproar started at the crack of dawn the next day.  When our parents finally realised she wasn't coming back, they told me I would have to leave too.  Why, when I didn't want to leave?  To look after my sister, of course!  Were they crazy?  I was so sick of being "the responsible one", so I thought good riddance.

We had some great parties at South Brisbane and would sometimes go into work without any sleep.  In the early hours of the morning, the bakery behind the house would perfume the air with fresh bread.  We'd jump the fence, buy a loaf and let the butter melt into huge slices.  Heaven!  We moved from there to a house in Taringa and from there to a flat, three bedroom plus sleep-out, in New Farm.  Four girls shared this space and one by one, they lost their jobs.  I was the only one employed who could pay the rent, $19 per week.  Sadly, my wage was just over $38 per fortnight.  We ate big bowls of noodles, smothered in tomato sauce.  One by one the others moved home, until we were left with no other option.  I have no photos from this time period because during one of his visits my parents' house before we married, my fiancée removed and destroyed any photo with a man in the picture.

Meanwhile, I was being pursued by a guy at work I'll call P.  When I first met him I thought "Every office has to have one" ... he was so arrogant and a real smart arse!

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East Brisbane - High School Years - Grade 10

Have you ever felt the fear, that all the secrets you've got hidden away will somehow be exposed?  This period is where I started honing my skills at blocking out and suppressing anything I wasn't meant to speak about.  I became so successful, I could even stop thinking about these secrets to the point were I almost forgot, but I was always sick with dread that it would all come to light.

We arrived home from school one day to see a police car parked outside the house.  When we walked in, a police woman was sitting at the kitchen table with Mum.  One of Twin's friends and shoplifting buddies had been caught and she had named everyone in their gang.  While I stood there feeling sick with fear, my sister calmly told the woman it was all a lie and invited her to search our room, knowing she wouldn't find her hiding spot.  She told us that wasn't necessary, apologised for disturbing us and left.  Twin was a very good liar!

Our 16th birthday rolled around and for the first time we had a party with invited guests!   Our cakes were two matching hearts on a large board and Dad filled an enormous punch bowl with one bottle of red wine, one bottle of white wine, a large can of fruit salad then topped the mixture off with a bottle of ginger ale and one of lemonade.  All the kids loved the "fruit punch", to the point where they were chewing on the fruit in the bottom of the bowl.  I guess none of their parents thought it was appropriate to feed alcohol to 15/16 year olds?  Unknown to anybody at the party, Twin was already one month pregnant.  When she realised her predicament, she made me swear not to tell our parents.  I don't know what Twin was thinking or whether she was in denial, just hoping it would all go away but she should have kept her mouth shut at school.  Someone told the Head Monster, who promptly phoned Dad and told him to come to school to collect his pregnant daughter.  Imagine hearing that kind of news over the phone?  Mum and Dad were floored, unable to understand why Twin had kept it quiet for so long that an abortion was out of the question.  They contacted K's parents and were shocked to discover that Twin had told them her parents were alcoholics ... I'm almost sure they were more shocked by this "slander" than they were by her pregnancy!

K was forbidden to see Twin again and she became a virtual prisoner trapped inside the house as Mum and Dad tried to hide the "shame" of her pregnancy.  Mum actually said "What will the neighbours think!".  When we would go out for a drive, Twin was hustled out to the car bundled up in an over-sized coat.  She picked the perfect day to go into labour, my only day off in the middle of my final exams, 7th November 1968.  She woke me up early as she tried to cope with the pains and I woke our parents.  They left me at home and rushed her to the hospital.  Later that night, they arrived home to tell me Twin had given birth, with the assistance of forceps, to a large 8lb+ baby boy called R.  Mum had warned the nurses that Twin was not to see the baby, because he was being given up for adoption, but they had placed the baby into Twin's arms and she became hysterical, refusing to give the baby up.  I don't know how, but Mum forced her to give R away ... and I think something broke in Twin after that event.

Mum and Dad told me to lie when questioned at school about the birth; I had to tell everyone the baby died!  I couldn't understand their reasoning, but it didn't really matter because as soon as grade 10 finished for me, I went home and created a bonfire in the back yard to burn all my books and uniforms.  We then packed up and moved to our first, purchased, newly built house in Mt Gravatt.

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East Brisbane - High School Years - Grade 9

If you attend any Australian school, you know that sport is compulsory!  Like it or not, we were expected to participate in our House teams and give our all!  School spirit and all that nonsense ... athletic carnivals and swimming meets.  Every school I attended in Queensland had its own swimming pool and swimming lessons for me were my own personal nightmare.  I used to beg Mum to write me a note to get me out of that torture, but as she couldn't understand my fear (read that as abject terror) she never cooperated.

Ever since I'd been thrown from a horse at four years of age, I was absolutely terrified of heights.  No one understood that fear, not even my twin who would take great delight in pushing me as high as she could, if I let her get anywhere near me while I was on a swing.  Swimming lessons were OK with me until it came time to learn to dive into the pool.  I just couldn't bring myself to do it, so I stood on the edge of the pool feeling so sick that I wanted to throw up.  My teacher lost patience with me and simply shoved me in, where I panicked and swallowed half the pool.  This tactic only succeeded in increasing my fear exponentially!   So you can imagine how hard it was for me to attempt athletic pursuits such as the high jump or hurdles.  I realised I couldn't rely on anyone to help me, so I solved my problems in the only way I could, I learnt to forge my mother's handwriting.  According to my notes, my menstrual cycle was not only very erratic, but extremely painful and heavy ... this was such a lie; I was regular as clockwork, never felt any pain and it was over in about three days.  My notes described various accidents such as broken toes and twisted ankles, getting me out of my uncomfortable sporting activities.  I did sign up to learn Fencing and I'm sure that because I loved it, the school decided to can these lessons after one month.  I also signed up for Judo and learnt a few tricks before our instructor died of a heart attack!  I played a few games of Netball, always in the position of Goalie because I could shoot a goal from anywhere in the circle, but I never felt any real love for the game.

Those students who did not participate in sporting activities were "punished" by typing up English notes for our teacher.  We actually cut stencils, which were used to run off multiple copies on the Roneo machine (an older form of duplicator that was cheaper to run than a copier).  I loved this job because it not only increased my touch-typing speed, but I absorbed so much information that I never had to open a book to study for English.  I never opened my text books or read Shakespeare's Henry V, but still managed to get straight As for English.

This year brought about a change in our reality.  My sister and I had different circles of friends and as we socialised outside our home for the first time, we discovered that it wasn't normal behaviour for parents to get drunk every night and beat the hell out of each other.  You may have wondered why we moved around so much and this is part of the reason.  We left every rental property damaged in some way.

Every night Dad would bring home two bottles of Dry Sherry and he and Mum would drink the lot.  They would either sit at the kitchen table or Mum would lie on the floor in front of the TV while Dad sat on an armchair.  Every time Dad would get up to go to the toilet, Mum would gulp whatever was left in her glass and tell me to "Quick, pour me another one before your father gets back".  She was playing catchup because Dad drank a lot during the work day too.  Most of his business meetings were conducted in Hotels, but don't get me wrong ... he was a high functioning alcoholic; a top Manager in Local Government.   If they didn't pass out where they were, they fought both verbally and physically.  In the first instance, my sister and I would try to wake them up and get them to bed, but more often we were woken by the violence.  Although terrified, we would go out and try to stop them hitting each other.  We had made our decision long ago that when our parents split up, I would go with Mum and my sister would go with Dad.  The only problem was ... they never split up!

Here we have another reason for our nomadic existence, Dad had the unfortunate habit of telling his bosses exactly what he thought of them.  In fact, both Mum and Dad actually thought they were superior to everyone else, to the point that they had no friends!  On rare occasions, when we were invited out for dinner our parents were perfectly polite to their hosts, but the moment we left they would start tearing them apart and criticising every detail of the event.

So for as long as we could remember our entire world consisted of four people, but now as my sister and I expanded our horizons we started to see our parents more clearly and it became Us against Them.  I had been forced into the role of my sister's keeper after she was hit by the car and now I had to keep all her secrets from Mum and Dad.

After school, my sister and her friends would haunt the local shopping centre and steal anything they could get their hands on, such as makeup (Mink false eyelashes for goodness sake!), swim suits and other clothing hidden under their school uniforms.  It became so prevalent that our school was banned from going to the shopping centre at all!  She had a fool-proof hiding spot in the base of the old radio/record player in our room.  It had a wooden cabinet, waist high and solidly built, but our parents had forgotten that one of the front panels opened to allow for record storage.  This is where she hid her booty and our cigarettes.

Twin loved to dance while listening to the radio, so she "Stomped" (this dance consisted of thumping one foot down hard on the floor, then moving your weight to the other foot ... a basic two-step with attitude ☺) in the one spot, right in front of the player.  I stared in horror one day as she suddenly disappeared up to her waist in the floorboards!  I was laughing hysterically, with tears streaming down my face as I tried to pull her out of the floor.  Luckily Dad ran in to help rescue her, because it was a very high set house and she was facing a long drop to the concrete below.

Before the Beatles changed the world as we know it, the music/dance culture fell into three distinct categories. ie.  Mods, Rockers and Surfies.

• Mods followed the British Carnaby Street fashion trend and music,
• Rockers of course followed Bill Haley/the Comets, Elvis etc. with greased down hair, black clothes, fluro socks, pointy toed boots and hot cars/bikes.  Boys were called Bodgies and the girls, Widgies.
• Surfies didn't actually surf ... they posed while listening to The Beach Boys etc.

As you can see from the photo at left, we considered ourselves Mods and Mum made us the outfits to go along with the trend.  Twin idolised The Rolling Stones in particular Brian Jones, so much so that she tried to copy his hairstyle.  She used every form of bleach to try to get the look correct, for example, Snow White, Ajax powder, Peroxide and when desperate ... Acriflavian - an orange coloured antiseptic!

Mum was horrified, because every time Twin came out of the bathroom, her hair colour had changed.  The last straw was when she used a colour called "Cleopatra Blue Black"!

Mum sent her straight up to the hairdresser to get the colour stripped out of her hair, but of course Twin lied telling Mum the hairdressers wouldn't touch her hair for fear it would break off at the scalp. She won again, as you can see in the following photo.

Mum and Dad were chain smokers so it was only a matter of time until we tried it.  They usually rolled and smoked Capstan tobacco, but Mum loved Sobranie Black Russian cigarettes which were incredibly strong!  On the rare occasions my sister could pinch one, she would light up in the bathroom then throw the butt out the window.  She would come back out bathed in sweat and grey in the face, but she always went back for more.  The only drawback to her plan was the fact that the driveway was under the bathroom window and the gold tipped butts gleamed in the sun.  Our favourite hangouts were Langland's Park swimming pool and the Triumph picture theatre.  A chocolate malted milk shake cost 22 cents and a packet of 10 cigarettes cost another 20 cents!  We had been smoking for years before Mum and Dad gave up and allowed us to officially smoke in public at 15.

We had never been given any pocket money, so we simply pocketed our tram and trolley bus fares and walked 2km each way, every day, rain or shine.  If we made the mistake of leaving any of our cigarettes in our room, Mum smoked them after conducting her daily search.  She confiscated my book on the Hells Angels and berated me for reading such filth, which she was able to quote with some accuracy ... she was such a hypocrite.☺  She was also an habitual martyr, always ill, managing to cut herself "accidentally" whenever she used a sharp knife and taking dives (pretending to faint).  Occasionally after a drunken fight with Dad, she would crawl into my single bed (reeking of alcohol) to seek sympathy and to sleep with me.  I hated it!

I know my account sounds cold-blooded, but after years of this behaviour, all the sympathy had been drained out of me.  Dad assisted in snapping me out of my enforced caretaker role, because one night Mum had gone to her bed to wallow while we watched TV.  She called out for me to come to her, but Dad told me not to go.  He said "If you go in there now, you'll be doing it for the rest of your life!".  His words were like a slap across my face, so in shock I sat still and ignored her pleas.

At 15, Twin found a boyfriend.  I can't remember where she found him, but he (I will call him "K") gave her a beautiful, black Cocker Spaniel puppy we called Sammy (because he looked like a seal).  K gave Mum various bottles of Christian Dior perfume and Step Limoges atomisers, so Mum didn't trust him one bit!  Mum and Dad insisted that I accompany them whenever they went out together ... as if I could act as a chaperone or exert any control over my sister!  Can you imagine how humiliating it was to be the unwanted third wheel?

The first party we attended was at a house in Kangaroo Point.  Every room in the old Queenslander boasted an enormous mattress on the floor as the only furniture ... plus they had set me up with a blind date.  I would have been happy to be struck blind, rather than see the man who was waiting for me!  He was so ancient, well over thirty☺, and when I resisted his efforts to drag me out of the kitchen into one of the bedrooms, he moved on to someone else.  I was quite happy to remain in the kitchen and only saw Twin and K when it was time to leave.  To put things into perspective, this was 1967 when free love and drugs were being explored enthusiastically ... by everyone but me!

A pattern emerged for our "evenings out together".  Twin and K would drop me in the city and promise to pick me up at a certain time, if I would wait for them in front of the Treasury Building in Queen Street.  Between drop-off and pickup, I would go to the movies both to kill time and avoid being accosted on the street by every man in uniform.  It didn't matter what uniform they wore, they all said they were off to Vietnam the next day and only wanted a girl to give them a memorable farewell.  I'm patriotic, but only up to a certain point!  Although I felt nothing but sympathy for anyone going off to fight in a war, my response was always, "Good luck and see you later"!  Some nights were harder than others, because K and Twin were often late picking me up.

So you can see from the above, it was all my fault when Twin got pregnant, because I hadn't been doing a good job of looking after her, according to Mum and Dad. ☺

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