*1944 THE WAR AT SEA COMES HOME

H.M.S. Repulse British Battle cruiser ( in 1916) sunk with H.M.S. Duke of York Battleship on 10th December, 1941, when attacked by 350 Japanese land based Aircraft.The giant ships had been sent without escort to shore up defences in the East.

The war at sea was very much in the mind of Australians during WW II - and rightly so. The phrase "tyranny of distance"had yet to be coined, but if any phrase covered our situation it might have been "splendid isolation" - so that our safety depended on sea power, and our Royal Australian Navy was fairly large in relation to our small population of only 3.5 Million.Even so, given our enormous coastline, it was really inadequate and we relied heavily on our "great and powerful friends""Mother"Britain and our American "cousins".

As time would tell, "Mother"did not succeed in "coming to our aid"until the show was almost over and the British Pacific Fleet was formed late in the war. It was not lost on the Australian public that Australian ships, soldiers and airmen had , from 1939 served with the British throughout the European and North African theatres.The bulk of them were not withdrawn until the Japanese threat was revealed.

But the War at Sea came home to Berala in 1944. My brother Pat finished his secondary schooling at Marist Brothers 'Lidcombe in 1943 at the end of Third Year as was the custom for most young fellows of the time - very few went on to Matriculate and go to University. The famed Parish Priest of Lidcombe was Father Lloyd who was a legend in Sydney for his ministry to the Boxing fraternity. He was equally famous in the Parish of Lidcombe for getting young fellows leaving school at the Brothers ' jobs. The Great Depression never really ended in peacetime and getting jobs was a tough assignment. Well, Father Lloyd did it regularly , and he got young Pat Dixon a job with the American owned JANTZEN ( "the Trademark is the Jantzen Diving Girl"said the jingle on the wireless) swimwear factory out on Parramatta Road, Lidcombe as a machine mechanic apprentice.This suited the young 16 years old for some months, but in 1944 he got the idea in his head that he wanted to join the Navy.

And so the War at Sea came to our home. By this stage of 1944 it was clear that we - the Allies- were winning the war and that nothing could reverse that trend.( In fact I grew up with the moral certainty that we would win the War , and except at the end of 1941 in the East, and a little later in Europe, I gather that was the case with adults as well.) My Mum and Dad were firmly opposed to their 16yrs old Pat, who had a good job, going needlessly into the Navy. The battle was largely engaged in the evenings , after I had been put to bed.The salvos were then fired back and forth. Sometimes pleading, sometimes angrily on either side. This went on for weeks it seems to me.It was so memorable because ours was normally a very peaceful household. Then a decisive intervention took place. Pat's boss at JANTZEN, a very nice fellow apparently , with the exotic name of Andy Ortega - himself an American I think, wrote a letter to Mum and Dad saying how pleased he was with Pat's work and what a bright future he had with JANTZEN, and urging them not to consent to their son enlisting (a  consent that was necessary for anyone under 18yrs). That put Pat's case back several paces and steeled Mum and Dad's resolve. I have an idea that Brother Loyola, the tough little Headmaster at Lidcombe was also pressed into service on Mum and Dad's side at some stage. Finally it was over. The family was to have no association  with the Navy. At least, not until I joined the R.A.N. Reserve in the 1960's.But that is another story.

*THANK YOU IRELAND !

My dear Mum & Dad on the right, but one of the heroes of this post is Father Cornelius "Con"Donovan a true son of Ireland and graduate of All Hallows Seminary.

Father Con Donovan was a big man by any measure.He was born in Araglen, County Cloyne on 2nd December, 1897 .His education began at the National School, and he went on to Mt. Melleray College. In due course he graduated from the National University in Dublin in 1920 as a Bachelor of Arts.He was ordained Priest on 15th June, 1924 at All Hallows College the famed Seminary in Dublin. He very soon left for Australia, arriving on Melbourne Cup Day, 1924.He served as Assistant Priest in Camperdown, Bondi, Annandale, Mt.Carmel, Gosford, Broadway and Enfield. He was briefly Administrator of Lawson Parish and on 14th July, 1938 he was appointed Parish Priest of Berala by Archbishop Kelly to replace another Irishman Father Carmody who was terminally ill.
He had been instructed to build a Presbytery. Many years later he recalled "I was ordered to build a presbytery when I came here but, you see, the numbers of children wanting to come to school increased so much that we were forced to build a Parish School first." so, Father Donovan came to live for 12 years under the care of the McLean family in the Regents Park Hotel...."the most difficult time of my life"he later recalled whilst praising the McLean family.
On 28th January, 1940 the new Archbishop, Norman Gilroy blessed the foundation stone of the new Church/School on Regents Street, where I was to be schooled from 1946 to 1949 - 1st Class to 4th Class. The day is recorded as being extremely hot at over 40 Degrees Celsius.The new building was opened less than 5 months later on 9th June, 1940.The old wooden Church/School up on Kingsland Road, which had originally been sited in Fourth Avenue behind Grandma Dixon's house in Third Avenue, would become the Parish Hall. It was in this aged building that the First Communion Breakfast for my classmates and me was set up in 1947.
The Church/School was a great success. At the Eastern end was the Sacristy, Sanctuary Confessional and three rows of pews.Here Father Donovan said Holy Mass each morning and, on Friday evenings after school was finished, we kids had immense fun opening the huge folding doors between the classrooms and the final one to the Sanctuary. Then there was the best fun , racing the seats down the length of the building to turn the whole into a Church for Sunday Masses.
None of your wimpy 9.00am Post Conciliar Masses then - morning Mass, winter through to Summer was at 6.00 am.- up the hill I would go on First Fridays , always beaten by the old gents and ladies who in these pathetic times are "too frail"for Mass before 9.00 a.m. There were good numbers of us kids. And the Nuns were there en bloc - an example to everyone . And then there was dear Father Donovan.The vestments we have come to know as "Roman"were always perfect, the Maniple from time to time a minor problem.we had a Gong struck by the Altar Boy, rather than a Bell. However, there was a small silver bell kept in the Nun's pews in case the designated Altar Boy failed to appear for any reason.Then one of the Sisters could do the necessary without entering the Sanctuary -  it was rarely necessary.
Several memories are stirred by this account. One morning after the 6.00 a.m.Mass Father Donovan beckoned to me and asked if I would take the Mass Kit Box up to the Convent on Kingsland Road. "Yes Father was the keen reply". Father brought the Box with its sacred contents of Chalice , Paten etc. and passed it to me , impressing on me its sacred character. Off I went up the grassed acreage toward the Convent full of devout concentration - too much so it seems, for I tripped and the box fell to the ground. I picked myself up, and the Box , which had not opened, and - grateful for my good fortune, delivered it to the Sisters who cared for it until the following day. That was that - I thought.
About ten days later, from his great height , Father Donovan called to me " Antonny!" - "Good Morning Father" "Antonny, when you took the Mass Kit Box to the Convent , was there a problem?"A benign look down from his great height....""Ummmmm, Yes Father, I tripped and the box fell to the ground ......But it didn't open!!" "Don't worry, it caused a little dint in the Chalice , but I have had it repaired and its OK - I just wanted to know. Don't worry now!"And that was that!
On another occasion a mate and I went into the chapel which the Sanctuary end of the building became during the week to pay a visit to the Blessed Sacrament. Somehow our devotion must have lapsed, and his eyes lit onto the silver Bell used by the Nuns when the Altar Boy wasn't present.He dared me to ring it. Evidently I was more daring at 6/7 years of age than later, because I did and then swiftly returned to my kneeler in the pew. But the tinkle of the silver Bell did not go unheard. To our horror we heard the rustle of a Religious Habit and the jangle of Rosary Beads as one of the Nuns came swiftly along the Verandah
About a year later, after Mass one morning Father Donovan asked me to be an Altar Boy - my head was full of wild confusion  - I really was delighted to be asked and desperately wanted to be an Altar Boy. BUT I was painfully shy, and I found myself saying against my real wishes "No thank you Father ". Father Donovan was obviously perplexed and once more urged me to accept but my embarrassment only grew - I said "No thank you"again  - and that was that. There was no reason Father should understand my decision, Heaven knows I was so conflicted in my head I didn't understand!!The subject was never raised again, and I was free of the risk of embarrassing myself by making a fool of myself on the Altar.
Father Donovan was far from being eloquent, in fact in one to one discussion he was a little awkward as became obvious when he made his Parish visitation and called at our home. My Father was even more awkward in any difficult situation, and Father sought to get him back to attending Mass. No luck....that would not happen until years later when Mum had been terribly ill.But we all loved Father very much and appreciated how much he had given up to leave family and friends and his beloved Ireland to come and look after our spiritual welfare. He was a good and faithful and true Priest whom I would love to be able to thank in Heaven.He completed a remarkable building programme Convent, Presbytery,several School expansion projects up to High School and a fine new Church - built before the Pizza Hut design era.Father Donovan died at age 78 on 30th December, 1975- Requiescat in Pace.

We had another gift from Ireland , in the person of Sister Austin . I have no photograph of her, but she was the Superior of the little communty of Sisters of Saint Joseph who taught at our Convent School in St. Peter Chanel's Parish. Sister Austin was kind and concerned for our well-being in every way. I loved the way, in her Irish lilt she called me "Ant'ny". She made our Primary schooling a very special experience along with Sister Alan, Sister Christina and others. They were devout and selfless women, kind and gentle and dedicated to our well-being.Nothing "I  gotta be me" about them.Saint Mary Mackillop of the Cross would have no trouble recognising them - unlike some to-day in Country Road clothes , bangle and necklaces and footy scarves!

Thank you Father Donovan, Sister Austin and companions AND THANK YOU IRELAND!

....AND TO-DAY YOU ARE SIX YEARS OLD!

Grandad and baby Josephine Dixon.

How beautifully she has grown!   HAPPY SIXTH BIRTHDAY      -   Josephine Alexandra Dixon!!!!

..........................."AND 23 MILLION BLACKS"

SOUTH AFRICAN NAVY FLEET OILER AND SUPPLY SHIP PROTEA BROADLY SIMILAR TO SAS TAFELBERG

Between October and November, 1968 two South African Navy frigates and the Fleet Auxiliary TAFELBERG paid a courtesy visit to several Australian cities. The squadron was in Sydney from 2nd to the 8th of November and the vessels were berthed at Garden Island with the TAFELBERG alongside the Northern most wharf.

As a member of the Executive of the Junior Australian- American Association I, along with a number of my colleagues, was on the Royal Australian Navy's hospitality invite list. So it happened that a group of us , among many others was invited to a Cocktail Reception aboard the TAFELBURG.

There was at the time the beginning of a thaw in South African - Australia relations which had been severely strained over the Apartheid issue.So there was a little anxiety on our part as to how the evening would go. It was to prove very revealing,

We had a very fine view up the Harbour to the Harbour Bridge. The hospitality was generous and the immaculately turned out officers were doing their best to be good hosts and succeeding well,despite a perceived awkwardness on both sides. Making small talk whilst sipping a drink and looking toward the Bridge backed by the declining Sun, I asked the young officer I was chatting with : "How many people are there in South Africa?" He promptly answered "" About 3.5 millions" and lapsed into a silence which lasted so long I expected to hear no more. Then after at least 30 seconds he said : "And about 23 Million Blacks."

I had lost any desire/curiosity to hear more, and could hardly wait until I could decently excuse myself and be gone. What got to me was that the fact that the appropriate answer of "26.5 Millions"did not occur to him. The 23Million Blacks were nothing but an afterthought, they didn't count.

I doubt anyone was more surprised than me when South Africa made a relatively peaceful transition to full democracy in 1994.

*1945 - END OF THE WAR - "I KNOW THAT!"

2nd September,1945 - Japanese Surrender
 aboard U.S.S. MISSOURI in Tokyo Bay.

H.M.A.S. Warramunga( I )

On Wednesday, 15th August, 1945 the Feast of the Assumption of Our Lady, I can recall be roused from bed by the sound of the elder daughter of our friends across the street calling out at the back flyscreen door. I got to the door at the same time as my Mum who had been busy elsewhere in the house. The young Judith Dryden called out joyfully "The War is Over!" - I was not impressed. "I know that", I said, "It happened a long time ago ""  - "No! That was the Germans! Now the Japanese have surrendered and it is all over!"

The interesting thing about this very clear memory, to me at any rate, is that I knew enough about what was going on at age 5 for the German surrender to register, but not enough to know that the Japanese were yet to be brought to heel.

The actual formal surrender of the Japanese took place on 2nd September,1945 in Tokyo Bay aboard the mighty battleship U.S.S. MISSOURI which enjoyed the nickname "Big Mo", also present was H.M.A.S. WARRAMUNGA which had been part of MISSOURI's destroyer screen. She was irreverently dubbed "Little Mo"by the Aussies.

The imposing figure of General Douglas Mac Arthur - not a perfect man - but one of my heroes nonetheless, accepted the Japanese surrender. He later ruled Japan absolutely under an Allied mandate, and did so with noble distinction, concluding with the transfer to democracy he had engineered.

*1945 -IMPRESSED? - IT KNOCKED MY SOCKS OFF!



H.M.S. ILLUSTRIOUS 23,500 tons WW II Aircraft Carrier.



The great Graving Dock at Sydney's Garden Island Dockyard - largest in the Southern Hemisphere.

In mid -1945, H.M.S.ILLUSTRIOUS was in Sydney's Garden Island Graving Dock for repairs after being hit by two Kamikaze suicide bombers off Okinawa.(Thank you internet.) The planes had caused damage deep below the waterline after penetrating her armoured flight deck with their bomb loads. The damage must have been severe, because she had initial repairs in the Phillipines , these repairs in Sydney and then again more repairs at Rosyth when she got home to England.

My Dad  worked at the Dockyard during the War, being unfit for military service due to an eye injury sustained in Newlands Iron Foundry near Central Station where he had commenced work when he was 11 years old (those were the days!). Now, in the declining days of the War, Dad was able to take me into the Dockyard on one of his days off. I have never forgotten the sight of the biggest hole I had EVER seen with a vast Aircraft Carrier sitting high and dry within it!

There are not too many details you recall from age 5, but the name ÏLLUSTRIOUS"was seared on my memory by that truly awesome sight for this little blond haired boy. It is probably there and then that the seeds of my love of ships and the sea were planted.

AN EVENTFUL ANNIVERSARY IS APPROACHING - STEEL YOURSELF!

On the day in question, the Nazis invaded Norway and Denmark to make their sources of iron ore secure.
That very day the SYDNEY MORNING HERALD carried the following item : "Canberra,Monday. The Federal Cabinet to-morrow will probably discuss the banning of all references in the newspapers to the departure of a certain ship from Honolulu.

The arrival and departure of the ship was broadcast by the B.B.C. short wave station, but, nevertheless, censorship authorities in Australia prohibited any reference to the vessel. When the Prime Minister Mr. Menzies, was asked to-day whether he had any comment to make, he said that Ministers would probably discuss censorship with particular reference to this question to-morrow."  Hmmm!

In the same copy of the SYDNEY MORNING HERALD, English "MORRIS"cars were advertised under banner headlines crying: "Buy from those who buy from you."and "If you don't buy MORRIS at least buy British." But in the case of locomotives....

3801 doubleheading with non-streamlined 3830 - two survivors , the first and the last of their Class.

On that same day, a 19 ton single piece 43'feet long steel casting arrived in Sydney from the United States. It was the very first cast steel locomotive bed ( or frame) to be used in Australia, Historically the frames had been built up out of steel plate and riveted together. It was to be used in the construction of the new C 38 Class Express Steam Locomotives capable of hauling heavy passenger trains over long distances at up to the maximum permitted 70 MPH.The first of the Class was the streamlined 3801 now well -advanced in a complete overhaul with a new (German it must be said) boiler!

On that same day, at around 5.00 p.m. at Nurse Bignell's Cottage "Hospital"on Nottinghill Road, Lidcombe....it happened ... and things have not been the same since.
We'll follow this up a little closer to the day. Steel yourself indeed!

*STIMULATED BY LIBRARY EXPERIENCES

Long before my time - the Western side of the Queen Victoria Markets as it was originally known, the York Street frontage lookins South to the Town Hall.

Also long before my time- the Assembly Hall Building on Margaret St viewed from across York Street .The picture evidently taken from near the entrance to the present Wynyard Station..The picture is full of interesting detail, note the early 1800's residences next door.These are occupying the site where new buildings were to later receive as tenants the USIS LIBRARY and the always exotic ( in my youthful mind )PFAHLERTS HOTEL. Note also in the R.H. corner the paling fence(!) - this suggests that the "cut and cover"excavation and construction for Wynyard Station had begun ( early 1920's).

Yesterday's post "1955 -1956 LIBRARY EXPERIENCES"stirred up a few quite varied thoughts:

THE QUEEN VICTORIA BUILDING

For all of my childhood and youth, the QVB stood virtually empty, save for the City of Sydney Library and their Cellar at the Northern end and a few shops and a Cafe on the George Street frontage. Access to the interior was not available to the public.

The great building, originally the Queen Victoria Markets, had not been a commercial success and , no doubt, the Great Depression finally set the seal on that. So it stood there like a great sandstone question - "what will you do with me?". There were many answers as I was growing up - most of them not respectful. Like its rival Melbourne, Sydney lacked, and still lacks , a fitting civic Square ( Melbourne's recently fabricated "Federation Square" still doesn't fill the bill and is just an eyesore.) Numerous "visionaries" wanted to demolish the QVB to create a Civic Square beside the Town Hall!Fortunately the inherent good sense of Sydneysiders of the time rejected the idea, besides, the suggestion crystallised in the public mind the thought that we really liked and admired the old girl, We just needed to find a suitable use for her! Urban shopping was evolving and in due course, that evolution and the QVB's potential crossed paths.

To-day the QVB with improved access via a Tunnel to Town Hall Station and under George Street at either end of the building, has created a pulsing, vibrant shopping heart thronged by local and overseas tourists alike.It is always great fun for a wander  each time we return to Sydney for a visit. The Metropolitan Museum of Art Shop on the top level is always a favourite and on several occasions our daughter Justine has taken us to High Tea in the grand restaurant in what was originally a Ballroom on the upper level at the Northern end.

MARGARET STREET

The sandstone houses in Margaret Street in the photograph above, were typical of houses of the vintage of 1840 onwards that were still common around Sydney into my early twenties  and could still be spotted here and there in one or two place until much later, I am thinking of Castereagh Street near Park Street for example. Earlier a very nice group on the corner of Phillip Street,King Street and Macquarie Street was demolished to make way for the ugly multi storey Courts Building.

LIBRARY IN MY POCKET?

Reflecting on those Libraries and their influence on my development, I came again to marvel at the phenomenon of the Kindle 3G E Reader which holds thousands of books in the size and weight of a small paperback, and offers the capacity to search in a particular book or across its whole library and make notes! The impact of this on my work will be brilliant, when I realise my goal and get one. How much more brilliant for a student in secondary studies  and tertiary studies. No doubt many not limited to a Retiree's means will even have the greater capacities of an I Pad! The acceleration in the rate of learning should be immense - but what of the depth of learning?Will they use the full potential of the E-Reader? Or simply skim further and faster?

Despite all the advances in technology, and the changes in the patterns of teaching, it is surprising how little many young people to-day know about history, even the modern history of our own society.And relatively few seem interested to find out.

*1955 - 1956 LIBRARY EXPERIENCES

The Queen Victoria Building -Southern/Town Hall end looking down George Street.

In 1955 and 1956 I went to finish my Secondary Schooling at Marist Brothers'College Darlinghurst - that will be the subject of a later post. My purpose on this occasion is to mention visits I started making to the City of Sydney Library which occupied two levels at the opposite end of the Queen Victoria Building to that shown in the photograph above. That Northern end on Market Street, across George Street from GOWINGS menswear store - famous for its location and its quirky , rather old-world stock and presentation, and its slogan "Gone to Gowings"was a landmark well into the 1990's when newer management had tried to modernise and popularise the brand. They finally failed  - things had moved on and they never did succeed in re-invention.

 The library was reached by climbing the stairs or riding the ancient lift cage to the first or second floor. Neither option would avoid the heavy odour of ancient wines from the City Council's Cellar in the Basement- a heavy mustiness that was not pleasant but not revolting either . It simply suggested something - in quantity - that was 'off".!

The library itself was not impressive in its reception or counters , everything suggested lack of money, care or attention.The collection however was full of items of interest. I usually visited with my classmate Tony Hannon, now my longtime Brother-in Law. We shared many interests in common especially history. We got a lot of satisfaction out of copies of The Illustrated London News, which were kept tolerably up-to-date. Both older copies and more recent ones were full of interest, especially when they did major photo essays on particular events or places. I regretted its passing in later years. The library also gave access to "Jane's All the World's Fighting Ships"editions from recent times back to the First World War. These were a remarkable source of FACTS and, if you know ANYTHING about teenage males, you will know that they are very keen on facts.The opportunity to absorb all of the interesting information from this large library's extensive collections was giving us a horse and buggy equivalent of the self education the Internet now provides at home. We, or at least I, did not use the library for study purposes on many occasions. For Tony it was a twenty-five minutes bus trip home on the little blue private bus from Bathurst Street to his home. For me it was a train trip to Lidcombe, change for Berala often, then a ten minute walk home - all up about an hour and ten minutes allowing for connections.

A few years later , Tony discovered the United States Information Service Library in Margaret Street. It was rather a different experience. In a smallish very modern building just down from the Assembly Rooms which contained the Scots Church where my Mum's sister Mable had married Robert Campbell Kerr before the War ( WW II).
 The USIS Library was the very model of modernity and efficiency and its carefully planned collection was recent and regularly up-dated with the latest books and selected magazines, all breathing  a healthy, happy optimism.By this time Tony was at University I think and I had left the Seminary ( another future post) and , due to an "accident "I was working for the Commonwealth Bank of Australia.
I had for a very long time been interested in steam locomotives and railways ( this is not so much an intellectual exercise- an act of the will- no, it is in some way " in the blood "or in the spirit - a type of romantic enthusiasm defying logic. Anyway, I particularly remember a very large format new book that the library took into its collection crammed with fantastic photography on the New York Central Railroad's newest ( and as it turned out,last) mighty steam locomotives the huge 4-8-4 "NIAGARA"Class with their massive 10 Wheel (I think) Tenders. They were the very last word( too true) in post war modern locomotive design, roller bearings on every turning surface and massive boilers to the very limit of the loading gauge , mission : beat the diesels for efficiency.They did well , but it was not "mission accomplished". How I would love to have a copy of that book. A Niagara is one of my 4 locomotive model collection , which I hope my Grandsons may  appreciate in due course. 4 Locomotive models, 3 Grandsons....Hmmmm!

Sadly, in one of those periodic expansion/contraction spasms that American short-term financial reporting recurringly causes, a whole host of USIS Libraries around the world was closed in the 1960s or 70s and the poor old Aussies "who are our Allies anyway" lost their USIS Library for a few years . In a later spasm it was re-opened up in Park St in the City - I never have been there - very big on security I believe. Sometimes I think the best times are behind us all, at least in that regard

*MY FATHER CRYING ? WHAT COULD THIS MEAN ?

                                                      My Dad John Joseph Dixon at about the age I was that morning.........

His Mother Eleanor Margaret Dixon  taken the same day as Dad above.

Friday , 20th August, 1948:  I was asleep in my bed, just clear of the inward opening door of my bedroom at the front right hand side (facing), of our two bedroom timber cottage in Second Avenue Berala NSW. I was woken when the door opened hastily.There stood my 41 years old Dad .A tumble of thoughts into my gathering consciousness : Dad doesn't wake me in the morning ( Shift work meant he was either at work, or not long in from work and sleeping at this hour),  why was his hat crammed on his head in the house? and....... what! My Dad was crying..... what could this mean?  "You'd better get up quick Anth, Ma has died ",and he sobbed even more. Turmoil, Mum was already up at Grandma's which was in Third avenue just behind us and a tad higher on the gentle hill. Up I got, dressed quickly, no breakfast and round we went. The 1900 vintage cream painted timber house, had originally been much smaller, but had been added onto. Up the front steps into the hall and I was taken down to Mum who was busy holding the family together, consoling this one calming that one and meanwhile getting them fed. My maiden Aunt Nell who was a very good hearted soul ,but at that stage of her life very tense, afflicted with a bad stutter, suggested while Dad was there that I should be taken into Grandma's room to see her body. You can perhaps imagine my horror - at eight years of age - at the suggestion. I had no experience of death and I had no desire to see the Grandma I loved so devotedly , and who loved me , in death. I would NOT go in. Dad was too absorbed in grief to intervene, but mercifully Mum across, asked what the fuss was, saw my reaction and put an end to that idea. I can't remember the rest of the day.

The funeral was some days later from our Church-School St. Peter Chanel's on the hill at Berala. My mind boggled at all the relatives and friends and fellow Parishioners - the Dixons were not the greatest Church goers( masterly understatement - I'm getting better at it!) , but in earlier times the wooden Church as well as the Convent, had been in Fourth Avenue behind Grandma's place  and there weren't many houses in those earlier days ,so " Mag. Dixon" was well known to the Nuns and to many Parishioners. That old wooden Church had been hauled up the hill to the new Parish location sometime in the 20's or 30's,and was now the Parish Hall.

Grandma was 66 years old.

Dad's Father, Thomas James Dixon died on the 2nd August, 1950. I had rarely seen him. He had left the family home many years before, had a major problem with drink, and was not a very endearing person ( actually, I'm getting better at it!) He was 66 years old also - I had never realised the coincidence of their ages at death until a minute ago ,when I came to write this !
Deaths in August were to become more common in the family for some reason as you will see if you bear with me.

*1947 FIRST ROYAL EASTER SHOW SINCE THE WAR

An odd view inside the old Showground, the lofty clock tower 
of the main Grandstand can be seen in the left background.

Me ( at the same age as the little boy with the beach bucket a few days ago) standing with my Dad at the Moore Park Entrance to the Showground- I had known nothing like this in my life; I had been told that we were going "to the Show", which I gathered would be good, but that was all. Now here we were being shoved through the turnstiles in these pokey little entrance gates with the rest of the crowds from the trams pushing behind.Then :

BAM! IT HIT ME LIKE A HEAVENLY REVELATION! "SHOCK", "AWE", WONDERMENT"I HAD NO TERMS OF REFERENCE : MY MIND REELED:

The ground fell away from the gates down a moderate slope, exaggerating the effect of the wonderful sights confronting me. Could this be real? So much , so pleasing and obviously all dedicated to fun - look : in the distance a huge Ferris Wheel turning, and I could hear a Merry Go Round, and there were people selling all sorts of colourful toys, rattlers, spinning coloured fans and kids everywhere eating ice creams, chocolates, hot dogs, pluto pups and real hot chips AND carrying large paper bags with string handles - in a very possessive manner! WONDERLAND!!

Dad began to instruct me in Show craft - it was neither possible nor desirable to try to see everything at once - we needed a plan of attack. The whole Showground was built around the Main Arena in effect. In the West where we had entered - this had to be the Main Entrance - were the Hordern Pavilion with all sorts of commercial exhibits and South of that was the Show Bag Pavilion. The Plan made this the last port of call before we exited to the Tram.To the East of the Showbags was a rowdy collection of garish, noisy, "rides"and freak shows and Jimmy Sharman's Boxing Troop. From there, further East and round the Eastern boundary Wall were all sorts of animal Pavilions - horses, cattle, sheep, dogs, cats, birds,by the hundred - each with their own intermingling unpleasant smells. Then around further was the Horticultural Pavilion, supplemented by a grand Merry Go Round and then along the Northern Boundary wall was the Wood Chopping. Various other odds and sods were sprinkled around the area - such as new car exhibitions and food stalls, mostly the latter were tucked in under the seating stands for the grand arena. But the two grand features of the Eastern side of the Arena were two truly huge brick Pavilions one in red brick and the other with a rendered surface marked out like stone blocks, The two of them were close together and they soared to a great height via stepped end walls and soaring steel arches supporting each roof.

In the red brick Pavilion we found a Spitfire hanging from the roof arches and a brand new and entirely novel centre aisle AIR-CONDITIONED railway carriage which was about to go into service on the "Newcastle Flyer"the crack inter-city Express.Amazing stuff! One of the key features of the 1947 Show was the British Empire Exhibition. Maybe the Spitfire was part of that - otherwise the B E Ex had no impact on me.

I don't remember what we had to eat or drink, except "Hot Tasmanian Potato Chips"excellent! It was good to know that Tasmania produced something good and useful instead of just Apples and more Apples.Tasmanian Chips were to become a ritual part of every visit to the Show for decades afterwards and I had the pleasure of introducing our three children to them in the 1970's. Sadly, in the early 1980's during some Tasmanian economy drive they ceased appearing - once again "all good things must come to an end".

In time, our day at the Show was coming to an end and Dad guided me back to the Showbag Pavilion. Wonders once again! The showbags were truly very different then and true to their original name : "Sample Bags". They always contained special small versions of the particular company's wares. The one I prized most, apart from the Hoadley's Chocolates Bag with its wonderful "Chocolate Polly Waffle"( which was still being produced until 2010!) , was the Pick Me Up Sauce Bag with about five or six miniature bottles of various sauces ( most of which I'd never tasted) I didn't care about the sauce - I was fascinated by the bottle shapes!As they clinked and clattered together, the bag proved to be a cause for friction on the way home. I think I got about 5 or 6 bags - at two shillings( one florin) and sixpence each [nominally 25 Cents] they were not expensive - as advertising they were heavily subsidised by the companíes and gaudily printed with their characteristic stylised name and colours.

So it was off home by tram to Central Station in Eddy Street,then up the ramp and stairs to the electric trains and home to Berala.

You may note that through this account I have not mentioned my Mum. I can't remember her being with us - which she was in most future years even though I believe she didn't relish the crowded experience. I believe Mum must have stayed home to avoid expected heavy crowding.

A 1947 Florin- two shillings - known as "two bob" nominal equivalent of 20 Cents.Note the Australian Coat of Arms and the Profile of George VI "By the Grace of God"! (D.G.) King of All the Britains "Defender of the Faith"! (F.D.) Emperor of India.

*TRANSPORTED IN TIME - SINEWS OF SYDNEY



Sydney Ö "Class Tram on its dedicated track on the Harbour Bridge, the track leads along to Wynyard Tram Station on the same level as , and visible from, the Platforms for the Western Suburbs and the North Shore trains

Through all of my school life and into my early  working life, trams were an integral, but increasingly contoversial part of the City's transport life. The network was, in its time , reputedly the second largest in the world.Most people to-day would be surprised at its extent shown in the following map:

The controversy arose after WW II when burgeoning motor vehicle traffic, combined with Sydney's mostly narrow streets, found the old ladies of the tracks too slow and too obstructive as traffic came to a halt each time the tram stopped. Perhaps the campaign was being supported by the bus producers( who knows? In the USA General Motors systematically bought up the tram companies and closed them down in order to promote bus sales!). I was not among the agitators - and I didn't care if it was the modern thing to do, and "the whole world"is getting rid of trams -which wasn't true in any case.

Sydney "O "Class Tram - my favourites.

I loved the trams, especially the older "O "Class on which I most frequently travelled. I loved the two open compartments at either end, sitting on the very side wedged against the curved brass handhold. The Conductors, standing on the footboards, which enabled passengers to step up into the tram, used to have to hold onto these brass fittings as they swung themselves along from compartment to compartment collecting fares. It was fairly dangerous considering cars and trucks whizzing past, and rather unpleasant in rainy weather.

The trams were heavily built and their old, but it seems , reliable electric motors were rather noisy, as were the wheels. It was great to hear the increasing rhythm of the motors, their heavy "run-run, run-run, RUN-RUN,RUN-RUN "sound rising as the matching rhythm of the wheels over the track joints( no spot welded joints then) added to the effect. Trams being what they are , they could manage 90 degree tuns on very tight arcs. My favourite was turning out of George Street in the City into King Street - the Tram car appeared to be well behind the wheels in getting around the bend and described a much wider arc than the track of course. The screech of the wheels was agonising as they protested their treatment.And there was the occasional flash and crack as the power pole contact made the transition from the George Street wires to the King Street wires.

The corner of George St. (L-R) and King street in an earlier era. Note on the right hand corner facing is the then famous Belfield's Hotel. The owner, J.B.Belfield was a famous Billiards Champion, Hotelier and wealthy real estate investor. He was renowned in Sydney society as a very fine Gentleman and doted on his beautiful wife who sadly died early. He was a relative of my wife on her Mother's side. Note that there was at that time no connection between the George Street tramway and the King Street line.

During my last two years of School - at Marist Brothers' Darlinghurst, I travelled daily on the tram from Eddy Street at Central station up to Darlo. It was great. Tram travel gave a real "feel"for the City.The wooden slats of the seats defied any desire for comfort and you were in the midst of everything, noise, weather ( good or bad) and the total ambience of the place. Other tram trips I had made often , but irregularly were to Bronte Beach whenever I went with the Drydens across the street from us.Their son Brien was the same age as me and we had been friends since the beginning of Primary School at St Peter Chanel's Convent School Berala. The trip out to Bronte was long and good fun until we turned into Macpherson Street at Waverley and I got the first whiff of the sea air - a cold chill would settle on my little tummy. I could not swim, and I knew, no matter how pleasant people were, that it was bound to be a background cause of humiliation. Oh well! There was always the Parkland at the back of the Beach to explore AND the ride on train to enjoy!

On one of these visits to Bronte we went across to the Milk Bar, and there I had my first Coca Cola. It had been unavailable during the War and now here it was , the great American treat! I enjoyed it very much.

The Tram Station at Randwick Racecourse.

On rare occasions, about twice a year, I would go with Mum and Dad to the Races.We went both Randwick and Canterbury. Randwick was a great tram ride from Central Station and Canterbury we went to by train and from time to time caught the tram to the City where we would have our evening meal in one of the ubiquitous "Sargeant's Pies Restaurants. If my memory serves me rightly you could get several different accompaniments to your Sargeant's Pie for dinner. There were about eight of these establishments in the City.This was a good indicator of the degree of sophistication of the average Sydneysider's dining choices, at least at our income level.

The tram trip from Canterbury to the City was quite long and somewhat "dampened"by parental supervision and tiredness after a long day. I quite enjoyed, and still do, the actual races, but, particularly as an early teenager I found the waiting between races boring and would read. Teenagers are impossible!

One particularly memorable tram trip was to The Spit and it must have been in 1944 or thereabouts travelling with my Mum and my Aunt Nell. We were headed to Manly - for some reason choosing tram and bus rather than the Ferry. There were four American Servicemen in our open compartment.They were very polite and very pleasant as they helped us down from the tram compartment . They were also very Black! This made a marked impression on me  because I don't believe I had ever met a black person before! I guess Mum and Nell were fearful I might say something out of place, but I didn't. Perhaps the fact that Mum had always drilled into me the equal value of all people before God had its effect.

As you may gather I really enjoyed my times on the trams and regret their having passed away. (P.S. That large lumbering "light rail"thing from Central to wherever doesn't count - it has no character!) And as for the wretched Monorail - don't get me started!)



BERALA STATION FOCUS OF MEMORIES

BERALA STATION LOOKING NORTH TOWARD LIDCOMBE

If only because I used it almost every weekday, from 1950 to 1970, BERALA Railway Station ( the Americanised "Train Station" only came into use with the "SESAME STREET"generations of the 1970's onwards) is the focus of many and varied memories. It looked different then, no blue seats and signs - the seats were Brunswick Green and the signs were Stone coloured with large black lettering. There were no spy cameras either - Big Nanny had yet to arrive.

Can you remember what you were doing on 7th May,1952?  O.K. - most of you were in no condition to do anything : the great "not born yet"majority. But I was walking toward Berala Station up Hyde Park Road just about opposite the three or four local shops ;I noticed something odd around the station.There seemed to be one long train stopped there, overhanging the Platform at both ends. The truth became quickly evident as police and emergency vehicles came into sight, and the full view of the Platform revealed carriages skewed at crazy angles and over the high embankment on which the tracks and Platform (accessed by a curved brick lined tunnel and stairs) stood.

The BERALA train crash cost 10 lives and injuries reported varyingly from 84 to 140. It had been a foggy morning and there was an eight car russet coloured electric train in the Platform heading toward Lidcombe and the City. Stopped at the Red Signal back toward Regents Park , was a similar following train headed for the City also. It was peak hour and there is always pressure to maintain the schedule. The second trains'driver slowly drove his train past the "Stop"Signal and was automatically brought to a halt by the trip lever at ground level. This lever raised itself whenever the Signal turned Red ,so that it would engage the trip lever on any electric train that tried to pass, stopping it(Steam locomotives had no such device). Drivers were allowed, in special circumstances to re-start their train and proceed with extreme caution. This procedure is called "tripping through". This is what the driver did. But here things become complicated to say the least.

The testimony of two men in a truck on the near parallel road observed the following train doing at least 30 -35 mph ( say,50 - 60 kph) at the moment of impact, and the force of the impact which drove the following train to telescope 4 carriages into the standing train attested to that observation. Yet, experts testified that the following train could not have accelerated to that speed from the "Stop"Signal. Press reports highlighted this contradiction. But I believe the following train's driver died in the collision and the mystery was left unresolved.

There were many heroes on that day, but prominent among them was Father John Gallagher from St,Joachim's in Lidcombe (the Parish in which my Mum and Dad had been married in 1927). Father Gallagher with stole about his neck and his Anointing Kit had climbed into the crazily skewed wreckage at considerable danger to himself, helping those in need and anointing those in greater need. He had done what any Priest should, but in those days it was reported, to-day , the reporting might be different.(He was a very interesting person, having brought to Australia the Canadian Antigonish credit union movement.) It was a terrible sight, a grotesque twist of everyday reality. The fact that outdated wooden carriages mixed with the normal modern steel carriages had been totally shattered in the impact, with great loss of life, was not lost on observers and investigators. Within a short time there were rows of them at the wrecking yards. Too late.

Happier Times

One of the great sights to behold at BERALA STATION was the MELBOURNE LIMITED EXPRESS thundering through the Platform on its way to Central Station in the City. Hauled in those days by the mighty green liveried C 38 Class Steam Locomotives and usually composed of very long and heavy Teak Varnished Carriages each  running on two big six wheeled bogies, it was a magnificent sight - especially on a Winter's morning when the exhausting of the 245 lbs psi steam would create quite a show. The great connecting rods of the locomotive used to flash around coming just above Platform level as they passed. This seemed to have an endless fascination for any dogs on the Platform, They would always try to keep up with the locomotive barking and snapping at the rods. Luckily for them they never made contact!



Two C38 Class Locomotives -5 were steamlined, 25 were not.

 To-day our Railway Stations abound with signs forbidding this, that and the other thing,warning that you are being watched and that Nanny thinks you should stand "Here"or "There"and urging you to be P.C. and save the world. 'Twas  not always thus. BERALA STATION like every other station on the New South Wales Government Railways had in its openish, austere Waiting Room two large signs with very fine print,which, when read after you had just missed the 7.30 am to the City and waited for the 7.45 am to the City, revealed that the Penalty for placing objects on the railway lines was up to "Life Imprisonment", and various other misdeeds like walking across the railway tracks carried similarly severe but rarely known penalties. The whole was presented in that marvellous, forbidding language that the lawyers of those days seemed to have inherited from Monarchs of the Middle Ages. Later in life I was to work for the Solicitor for Railways and inter alia ( like that??) had to serve Summonses from the Railway Court which included such phrases when commanding the Defendant's appearance as "Herein fail not!" Great stuff - that would scare the poor citizen witless!

*ALERT - BUT MORE CURIOUS THAN ALARMED

Baby Anthony Dixon Aged about eight months in the then common wicker pram.

No unkind remarks please - how good do you look when you've just woken up? This may be the oldest photo of me. The pram appears to be parked against the edge of the back verandah of our California Bungalow. Note the restraining harness!

In fact, my earliest memories are of being in that very Pram, looking out through lace curtains in the surgery of Doctor Mannion in Kerrs Road Lidcombe.

*1943 -1945 SIRENS AND SEARCHLIGHTS

Air Raid Siren

A monthly , or bi-monthly feature of life in suburban Sydney during World War II, at least in the vicinity of Berala , in what were then Sydney's Western Suburbs ( now the inner Western Suburbs!), was the sonorous wail of the Air Raid Sirens. As far as I am aware the Siren we heard was near the Park in Lidcombe - a brisk 20 minutes walk away. To me it was a marvellous bit of entertainment! We never believed that it could be a genuine air raid, not that that belief was based on any detailed knowledge of the disposition of Japanese Aircraft Carriers - we just knew we were going to be O.K. Similarly, but more irregularly, anti-aircraft searchlights would pierce the night sky - wonderful stuff causing people all around to run onto their verandahs or into their front/back yards to watch the show. There seemed never to be any aircraft around to give the exercise some semblance of reality, and very rarely a second or third searchlight to allow co-ordination exercises.

We had in our backyard a large hole dug as an air raid shelter, but it seemed to me even as a child, somewhat half-hearted and incomplete, and it  was never taken seriously and as time wore on , it was filled in.

WW II Searchlight

The War, so dramatic in the films, and apparently serious in the papers - not that I could read them- was somehow at one remove from our day to day lives.  At least that was true for children like me.

*BEEN THERE TWICE - AND BEEN DONE BY THAT!!

To-day with my dear wife,I went to the movies. We saw "COMPANY MEN".

Without hesitation I urge you to see it. It is very much a story of our times - the shedding of activities and employees by major companies seeking to ride out difficult times. Along the way , we are shown the degrading effects of being "let go" , of family and personal degradation by the rolling consequences of lost position and status. And interestingly and very accurately, we are shown how tough it is even for small business operators to stay afloat in hard times. We are still feeling the "crush of the wagon wheels"which a Wyoming Jesuit once hoped I would avoid.

The acting and direction are brilliant, the whole being very tightly managed and free of unnecessary theatrics, making it so much more effective.

Having been twice a victim of such a situation, though with very different backgrounds, I found the movie very realistic, and telling. In fact, afterwards I could scarcely talk about it without being moved to tears. Go! See it! Please, for my sake and yours - these are uncertain times.You may begin to understand.

I thank God someone has made this movie , and with such integrity.

*JANUARY 1947 - A "CULTURAL ICON" (peeping out!) MANLY BEACH

WITH MY DAD IN PITT STREET,SYDNEY OUTSIDE THE WATER BOARD HEAD OFFICE

 It may seem bizarre, but here I am with my Dad, going to the beach! Yes that was the way we and most others dressed for a casual day out! Did you spot the "Cultural Icon "peeping out? Take a close look at my beach bucket - made in good sturdy tinware - no plastics then. (There was Bakelite - widely used in the ever more popular mantel radios, but it was brittle and far from suitable for any knockabout purposes.) On the bucket you will see the reproduction of the bow of R.M.S. Queen Mary whose image wrapped around the bucket - what more could a boy want! 

"The beach", for us almost invariably meant Manly -"7 Miles from Sydney and 1,000 miles from care!"as the signs inside the stately, steam powered ferries used to say. I loved the trip! The ferries themselves were impressive to me with beach names like "Barrenjoey", "Dee Why", "North Head"and the latest and greatest was "South Steyne"- stories of her sailing out from England ( where else!) were listened to in awe, including the tales of the seating having been burnt when fuel ran low!!These steam ferries had engine rooms that were visible from the passenger decks - looking down onto the tops of the cylinders with glimpses of the great piston rods and the cranks of the driveshaft. Scent of steam, oil, grease, sounds of the engineroom telegraph bell, the hiss of steam and the mechanical throb of the thrusting pistons and turning cranks were all come together most powerfully and enchantingly for this little boy.

As is still the case, nature being what it is, the matter of boarding the ferry was always a changing task as the tides at Circular Quay or at Manly ebbed and flowed. There were pairs of short , simple wooden planks with guard rails on one side only - for the lower or main deck, and very large and heavy steel framed ramps on wheels which the wharfhands moved into place for the Upper Deck.

The scent of the sea water at the Quay was complemented by the salt on the "Smiths Crisps" which were an inevitable complement to the journey.I can taste them now. Calls of "Stand Clear!"and the boarding ramps were withdrawn, the faces of disappointed late arrivers littered the wharf.The engineroom telegraph gave its double ring and gracefully we began to move away as the last of the mooring ropes were being coiled down. Generally we stayed on the Starboard or right side, the better to see the naval vessels at Garden Island Dockyard which is still the largest Naval Dockyard in the Southern Hemisphere, and had and still has, the largest heavy lift crane in the Southern Hemisphere.
As we turned out of Circular Quay and headed East down the Harbour we passed on our right the red brick pile of Fort Macquarie which, its name not withstanding, was a large tram depot.( Someone later had the idea that this would make a fine site for an Opera House....and you know the rest!)

For all my later and continuing interest in the Navy and Naval Vessels, it is a cruel truth that I have no memory at all of the many USN, RAN and even RN ships of all sizes that I must have seen there. However I have a very clear memory of the Hospital Ship "MANUNDA" beautifully white with a green band around her hull and emblazoned with the Red Cross on her sides, passing our ferry on her way back to the war. I can still recall the appalled reaction of my parents when, having heard that "MANUNDA"was her name I, very pleased with my rhyme announced "The "MANUNDA"went under"!.Perhaps it was this audience reaction that led to my disinterest in poetry for very many years.

We swept past the homes of the rich and famous and the next point of interest was the Rose Bay Flying Boat Base - the Flying Boats themselves were sometimes to be seen at their moorings, and joy of joys, very occasionally taking off or landing - quite a show!


A gentle turn to Port (left) around Bradley's Head where I was taught to observe the masthead of HMAS SYDNEY ( I ) and reminded that "the SYDNEY sank the EMDEN"in WW I. No-one mentioned the too-painful mystery of the loss of HMAS SYDNEY ( II ), still unexplained at that time.

Then , by degrees we began to feel the influence of the sea as we ran by the Heads. At times this was almost a non event - a mere tummy tickle, but, at other times the effect could be challenging - everyone looking for a handhold and the occasional person being ill. As the ferry headed some of the heavier waves, water would spray on board , what fun!Sometimes it was necessary to cancel the services due to rough seas.

But "all good things must come to an end"and all too soon we were past the Heads and gliding into Manly wharf.Then we walked off down the Corso past the intriguing string of Milk Bars, Fish and Chip shops etc. etc. to the Promenade which gave onto the beach backed by the tall and pleasant Norfolk Island Pines. Looking up to the right we saw the imposing sandstone bulk of St.Patrick's Seminary. There are several points of departure from this point - but I shall take them up on later occasions.

*1943 - 1945 CULTURAL ICONS

R.M.S. QUEEN MARY

As I grew up, my mental wallpaper in matters civic was without question British. The great icons , cause of our pride were British -  R.M.S.QUEEN MARY. the steam locomotive "FLYING SCOTSMAN", the world's "best"car the ROLLS ROYCE, British crockery, British manufactured goods. Why not! We were British weren't we ?

Of course as Catholics we were just a tad sceptical of the underpinnings of all this. We knew about the English repression of the Irish before Home Rule. And we knew that the establishment in Australia was largely anti- Catholic. We could handle all that. We just knew that everything that was best and good in civic life was British.Of course it was! All the books we had available were published and printed in England ( save for a very few - not popularly distributed- which were published and printed in Australia).Things and people British were "proper"and to be emulated. On the Wireless, the ABC (Australian Broadcasting Commission) announcers were selected for their rather prim, well modulated British accents.

All of this worked subtly to establish a cultural "client "mentality in most of the population.Many of us felt our cultural isolation and longed to travel "overseas"- but most of the time, this simply meant London or England more broadly.Travel overseas was 98% by ship , and the ships were British ( of course) and such shipping lines as P&O(Peninsular and Oriental Steam Navigation Company), Orient Line, Shaw Savill and Huddart Parker were household names.

Oddly, before the War there had been a great number of American cars on our roads . Names such as Chevrolet, Buick, Oldsmobile, Ford, Mercury, Willys,Dodge and De Soto were still quite familiar even though restrictions on U.S. currency transactions had long since stopped U.S. car imports. So our cars were Vauxhalls ( who could forget the glittering chromed flutes down the edges of the bonnets), Austins, Morrises,Rovers(Doctors'cars), Wolseleys,Triumphs,Hillmans, and the rarer Lancasters, Alvises, Armstrong-Siddeleys, Humbers , Lagondas, Daimlers( very big with the Royals) and Bentleys etc.

Still other considerations of English origin, re-inforced our above view of the world. Architecture was a leading factor in this way. Most public architecture had its origins at least in the Victorian era. So it was that Government Buildings were designed and constructed to suggest permanence, authority and strength. Other buildings like Banks had developed out of the experience of hard times past. There were usually friendly glass inner doors , but strong, forbidding outer doors - everyone had in mind the runs on the Banks in the Great Depression - only  11-15 years earlier. Windows were high by to-day's standards, further enhancing protection against external assault.

But beneath the surface, there were several subversive streams at work.There had always been American films, movies they called them.As the war effort grew these American films came to be more and more the true mainstream. Their ideas were quite different and...somehow, more ...exciting.The presence of American Soldiers, Sailors, Marines and Airmen in Australia greatly expanded the Americanised way of thinking.The failure of the British to come to our aid ( largely due to inability and the failure of what they did try) was commonly known and resented in reality, no matter what the reason. There was a fairly natural affinity between Americans and Australians based upon openness and a lack of British type Class pretensions. We were more like the Americans then, than we are now I think. That may seem paradoxical given to-day's very free communications. But whilst these modern communications have made our cultural links much stronger, they have, it seems to me, facilitated in each society a more rapid development of particular tendencies which are drawing us further apart in essence, if not in superficialities. Hmmm Getting a bit deep. Might try to come back to this later.